Reese
Now
It’s uncomfortable in the crawl space. It’s maybe two feet tall, which is not enough room to ever sit up. I lie on my back
or sometimes on my side when my back gets numb. The ground is hard. There is a single exposed lightbulb that they leave on,
the pull string within reach if I wanted to turn it off or on. I have options. A blessing. Something to do to pass the time,
pulling the string, turning the light off and then on, off and then on, or wrapping the end of it around my little finger
and watching the tip of my finger turn purple, wondering if the same would happen if I could tie it around my neck.
They bring food and water down for me to eat and drink, though all I can do is prop myself on an elbow to eat. They let me
out sometimes to stretch my legs, to use the bathroom, one keeping an eye on me, the other on the front door. They put me
back when I’m through, opening the door and watching me crawl back into my cave, and I don’t ever resist, because the memory
of what the man did to Emily and Nolan is always there. Ever present.
And then one day when the little wall hatch opens, the face on the other side is not theirs. It’s someone else, a man with
red hair.
“Reese?” he asks. “Are you Reese Crane?” I nod, my hair in my eyes. “We’ve been looking for you.”
Aunt Courtney is the one who tells me they’re dead, sort of.
She sits on the edge of the hospital bed, her face splotchy like she’s trying not to cry. She pats my leg over the blankets
and sighs, having trouble finding the words.
I say, “They’re dead right?”
She nods, confirming it. And then we sit in silence, because neither of us knows what to say, until she says, “It will be
okay. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but we’ll get through this together.”
She didn’t have to tell me. I already knew, because if Emily and Nolan were alive, it wouldn’t have been Aunt Courtney to
come into the hospital room to see me first. It would have been them, my mom and dad. But they couldn’t because they’re dead.
Because that man killed them, because he thought I was his missing daughter, Kylie. Why he thought that, I don’t know, except
I think it had something to do with the necklace Daniel gave me; I think that maybe it was hers. Still, I don’t know how or
where Daniel got the necklace, and I don’t know how that man knew where to find me. I ask Aunt Courtney if she knows. Her
eyes get all wet again, and then she takes my hand into hers and says, “We’ll talk through everything later. For now, rest.
Let’s take care of you and get you all better so we can go home.”
Home. It’s a word that doesn’t make sense to me anymore, like when you say something so many times it loses meaning in your head.
Home. I don’t even know what that is anymore.
I nod anyway. “I . . . I didn’t tell them.”
“Tell who what?”
“Those people,” I say. When I was locked in their basement, I had time to kill and nothing to do but think. I thought about dying. A lot. I thought about what it would be like to be dead and buried. I thought about the cemetery that Daniel took me to.
“The Matthewses?” I nod. “What did you want to tell them?”
“I think I know where their daughter is.”
The police officer is in the room with us now. He stands at the foot of the bed. He turns his head too fast when I say that.
I have a startle reflex that I didn’t have before. When someone moves, I jump. When someone coughs, I jump. When someone breathes,
I jump.
“I’m sorry,” he says, seeing me gasp, jerk, pull away from him in bed though he’s ten feet away, not even close to entering
my personal space. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, telling myself I am okay. I’m in the hospital room with Aunt Courtney and the police. I’m okay. Still,
there are burning hot tears in my eyes. Aunt Courtney scooches closer to me on the bed. She squeezes my hand, holds my eye,
gives a sad smile.
“Can you tell me where?” the cop asks.
I nod. “There is a cemetery by the resort. In the woods. I was there one day. I saw that lady from the resort there too.”
“What lady?”
“The one who owns it. Ms. Dahl or whatever. She was laying flowers on an unmarked grave. Maybe that’s where their daughter
is. Maybe she’s who’s buried there.”