Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
After getting off Saul’s boat, Gabriel and I slide into the car, the vinyl seats still hot from the afternoon sun.
The slip of paper trembles in my hands. I unfold it carefully, revealing three names written in blue ink: Eliza Bennett. Marisa Lane. Anthony Hoggins.
I grip Gabriel’s hand. “What do you think? Do you think Sadie ran too?” Even though I thought about it when I went to the library, it’s the first time I’m saying it out loud to Gabriel.
My husband starts the car and slides his hand from mine to handle the wheel. “Why do you think that?”
“Well, Saul did say some kids leave, right, that they don’t want to stay? I hate to think it, but maybe Sadie was one of them. Maybe she heard their stories from others at the camp and was influenced. Maybe she’s out there.” Not drowned. Not kidnapped.
Gabriel says nothing and I watch his jaw tense.
“Gabriel,” I say quietly. “You didn’t say much back there. When Saul told us, you didn’t react like someone who was hearing about those kids for the first time.” My voice is just above a whisper now.
“I didn’t want to say anything until…” He glances at me. “Until I was sure. I didn’t want to upset you.”
“What does that mean?”
He exhales slowly. “The investigator I hired… he found out about the missing kids a while ago. He was looking deeper into it to see if there’s more, a connection—”
My stomach drops. “You knew about this already?” I wrap my fingers around the piece of paper. “You knew children had run from that place and you didn’t say anything to me?”
When I found out about the detective, he should have said something.
“I was trying to shield you from going down a rabbit hole that might lead nowhere near what happened to Sadie.”
I grip the paper tighter. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle!”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
Again with that nonsense.
“From what, Gabriel?” My voice is loud in the car’s stillness. “From information that might help me understand what happened to my child? Or from the truth that our daughter might have chosen to leave me?”
“That’s not fair, Judy.” His jaw visibly tightens. “She was my daughter too, my little girl.”
“Is,” I correct, my voice tight. “But you secretly hiring someone to dig into our daughter’s disappearance, then only feeding me scraps of information when it suits you, is what’s not fair.” I inhale sharply. The heavy smells of diesel and salt linger in my nostrils. “What else did he find?”
“Nothing that proves Sadie ran.”
“And why hide that information?”
He grips the steering wheel tighter. “Because, like Saul said, one of those kids didn’t make it.”
When we get home, I go straight to our bedroom, unable to be in the same room as my husband. As I walk away, Scarlett’s voice floats from the living room, low and urgent.
“What did the fisherman say?”
“Nothing helpful,” Gabriel mutters.
Liar.
I find Alice folding towels in the en suite bathroom and, perhaps seeing the tension on my face, she excuses herself.
“Thanks, Alice,” I say as she closes the door, but not before Coco slips through and comes to me, raising her little paws until I pick her up. Maybe she senses I need comforting.
Together, we pace around the room for a while, then I lower myself onto the bed, unfolding the scrap of paper, staring at the three names again. Focusing on Eliza Bennett, who met a tragic end.
Do I really want to know what happened to her after she left the camp? Was Gabriel right in not telling me?
Coco settles against my leg with a sigh. I reach for my phone with one hand while my other hand moves rhythmically through her fur.
No new messages or calls, so I lie back on the bed and close my eyes, wishing I could block out all the terrible thoughts my mind keeps conjuring up.
Failing at harnessing my thoughts, I get my laptop and respond to some of my patients’ parents’ emails. I work for almost an hour, and then I’m about to call Rayline Green, my assistant at my child psychology practice, when a knock at the door startles me and Gabriel pokes this head through.
“Dinner’s ready in five,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice still tight. “I’ll be out in a bit.”
When Coco and I step into the kitchen, ten minutes later, Gabriel and Scarlett are already sitting at the island, in front of them pan-roasted salmon, roasted vegetables, and a big green salad. The smells make my mouth water.
“Hope you enjoy,” Alice says before returning to wiping down the counters.
“Alice, thank you so much for everything you are doing, but you really didn’t have to cook. We can more than handle that ourselves. There are three of us to take turns.”
“I know, but I had a bit of extra time on my hands.”
“It’s very kind of you.” Gabriel eyes the food with a smile. “This all looks delicious.”
“It does,” Scarlett confirms, but she isn’t looking at the food; she’s studying my face, worry darkening hers.
“I’m heading out now,” Alice says when she’s done with her task.
Instead of sitting down immediately, I follow her to the door. “Thanks again, Alice. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
She squeezes my arm. “You’ve got so much on your plate. Anything I can do to help, just say it.” Her sincerity makes my throat close up for a split second, so I just smile.
It’s when she’s walked through the door that I remember something I wanted to ask her.
“Did you ever find out anything about that new adult program at the camp? The one you mentioned?”
Alice hoists the handle of her jeans handbag higher up her shoulder. “Oh, sorry. I forgot to ask. But I will. I’ll ask around tomorrow. I know one or two people who are counselors there.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
Dinner is quiet. The clink of cutlery against porcelain sounds too loud. While Gabriel digs into his meal with gusto, Scarlett and I push our food around our plates more than we eat it. She does not ask me about what Saul told us, which means she already knows everything.
After dinner, I excuse myself and return to the bedroom. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I unfold the piece of paper again. Then reach for my laptop. Moving on from Eliza, my fingers fly over the keyboard as I type in the next missing kid’s name: Marisa Lane.
Nothing.
I add Saltspray Cove. Then Saltspray Cove, Florida.
Still nothing.
I try Anthony Hoggins. Again with Saltspray Cove.
Nothing.
No online articles, no memorial pages, no trace that these children existed.
My pulse starts to race. It’s like they were not important enough to be remembered.
I’m about to search from another angle when my phone buzzes with a notification from Instagram.
Lucille, one of the kids who was at the camp with Sadie, has finally responded. My lips are pressed tightly together as I open the message,
Yeah, I remember Sadie. So sad what happened to her. May her soul RIP
That’s it.
No answer to my question and no mention of the night Sadie disappeared.
Biting back tears, I type back carefully.
Thanks for responding, Lucille. I appreciate it. Did she say anything unusual before she disappeared? Anything at all?
I stare at the tiny screen.
No response comes. After fifteen minutes, I give up waiting and call Rayline to tell her I might need to stay in Saltspray Cove for longer than I planned.
I know she won’t mind me calling outside office hours because she often works late.
She’s a single mom to an autistic child and I often encourage her to take care of the important things in her personal life as long as she catches up after her son goes to bed.
She takes me up on that offer more often than not.
“There’s my favorite boss,” she says, and I can almost hear her smile.
“Hey Rayline. Just wanted to give you a heads up, I might be here longer than I thought. Please move the rest of the week’s appointments to next week.
And if you don’t mind, check with the families of my patients and let them know.
You can say it’s a family emergency, if they ask. I’ll be available by email.”
“Absolutely,” she says. “Is everything… you know… okay over there?”
“Yes,” I lie smoothly. “Just tying up loose ends.”
“Glad to hear it. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“I hope so too,” I murmur and end the call.
After the call, I take a shower and when I reenter the bedroom in a bathrobe, Gabriel is sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry.” He stands up and comes to wrap his arms around my waist, kissing my collarbone. “I messed up. How can I make it up to you?”
I look up at him without pulling away. “I want to see the report tomorrow. The one your investigator sent you about those missing kids.”
Gabriel turns to walk back to the bed. “You’re not going to like it.”
“I don’t like being kept in the dark either.”
But I’m not strong enough to see it now. I need to sleep off the tension from today first. I have a feeling I’ll need a clear head tomorrow.