She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,202

months, others put the illness at bay for a full year. Ms. Oliver, somehow she knew which would work the longest. The people she brought me always quenched the hunger, always for a full year.”

“August 8 to August 8.”

She nodded.

“And back at Cammie’s house, she said she had someone ‘picked out.’”

Stella nodded again. “Bad people, that seems to be the key. They’re the ones who work the best. She may have already taken someone.”

A small gas station came up on the right—Manchester Fill ’n Go. I pulled in and eased up to one of the pumps. Shutting off the engine, I turned to Stella. “We’ll solve this, I promise you. We’ll find a way.”

Again, she nodded, but there was doubt behind her eyes, a growing sadness.

You’ll lose her soon. This is her saying good-bye.

The thought came into my head, and I forced it back out.

We’ll find a way.

But even I was beginning to doubt that.

Three cars in the parking lot—a green Ford, red Dodge, and a white Toyota. The driver of the Toyota was a teenage girl wearing a loose N’Sync tank top over a pink bikini, no doubt skipping school for the beach.

“We should get some snacks, something to eat.” I handed her a twenty and she took it from me without another word, climbed out of the car, and went into the small gas station.

I was back in the car, nearly ready to go in after her, when she finally returned with an armful of items—potato chips, three sandwiches, three bottles of water, and a road map. She dumped all but the map on the floor at her feet.

I eyed the discarded food. “Sure, I’ll take a sandwich. Thank you, Stella.”

“Manchester,” she mumbled, spreading the map out on the dashboard. “Manchester.”

“Stella? What’s going on?”

“Manchester is a city in England,” she muttered, studying the map.

“And a city here in California, Illinois, Connecticut, Georgia, Indiana…probably all over the world. It’s a common name.”

She reached for her copy of Great Expectations and opened it to the map on the inside cover, studied it for a moment, then opened the copy I had found in my Father’s grave beside it, also to the interior flap. “These are both the same editions. Your father’s copy and the one I got from my parents.”

“So?”

Stella’s gloved fingers slipped gingerly over the cover of her copy. “Great Expectations was first published by Mr. Dickens in July of 1861 as a magazine serial, then later as a full novel. One hundred years after his death, the novel entered the public domain, meaning it became free for all and could be published by anyone. As a result, hundreds of editions have been published since, all over the world, with so many attempting to capitalize on his wonderful words. If you were to walk into a bookstore, you would no doubt find numerous copies on hand, printed by various publishers. The underlying text will be the same in all, the only thing to differentiate them would be the packaging—the dust jacket, the binding, the quality of the book itself. From cheap knockoffs to insanely expensive original editions dating back over a hundred years. Many people own a copy of this book, but few of those copies are alike. The numerous print runs are fleeting as publishers repackage and print again, out with the old, in with the new.” Her fingers paused, her thumb running along the edge of her book. “This copy belonged to my parents. It is the only original possession of theirs I own, and I treasure it above all other things in this world. This book has been with me every day of my life and will be there for my last day, of that I’m sure. The memory of my parents, their essence, travels with me within the covers. Through this book, I keep them close.”

Stella’s hand moved to the edition I found in my father’s grave. “This one was in the possession of your father, hidden in his grave with the Penn State yearbook. Important enough to him that he would go through such trouble to conceal it from the world in a fake grave, hoping you would eventually find it. Look at the maps—he told you exactly where he’d be, Jack! Do you see it?”

I leaned in closer. The maps were beautifully rendered, both detailing various cities throughout the UK. Nothing necessarily specific to the novel, just a map the publisher felt filled the space nicely. No doubt just an afterthought by the