Chapter 30
THIRTY
Megan unlocks a door with a keycard and it opens into a bright and open hallway, with glass panels on either side instead of walls.
Soft light pours in, and on the other side of the glass, I take in the greenery, sparkling fountains, winding paths, and a group of teenagers sitting on the grass, playing cards with a counselor.
My stomach tightens when I scan their faces. None of them is my daughter.
I pull in a deep breath and hold it, swallowing down any doubts that she could be here, that we will be reunited soon.
As we walk, Megan and I carry out small talk until we go past the staff-only rooms and the office. It’s when we come across a large, framed portrait of Mrs. Potter on the wall that she stops.
Mrs. Potter looks almost lifelike, sitting behind her large desk. Her brown hair is touched with gray and smoothed back. The dark suit highlights the warmth in her rich complexion.
Her hands are resting on top of a stack of papers, wrists covered in colorful, mismatched friendship bracelets some children made for her over the years.
“She would have been so happy to know you came back home.” Megan stares at the woman who brought us together, the woman who saved us. “She would have been devastated to hear what happened to your little girl. She would have moved mountains to help you find her.”
Tears prick my eyes. “I’ll never forget what she did for me.” As we start walking again, I turn to look at Megan. “By the way, I noticed at breakfast that the other adults on the pilot program were wearing the silver bracelets.”
“Oh, yes.” She lets out a soft laugh. “After I gave you one yesterday, I thought it was only fair the other trial guests received one as well. A little welcome gesture. We might continue the tradition when we officially launch.”
She comes to a halt in front of two double doors. “This is the executive suite.” She unlocks the right door and ushers me in. We are welcomed by the fresh scent of eucalyptus.
“Mrs. Potter stayed here,” Megan says softly. “Even though we had counselors present at all times, she insisted on sleeping on-site during the week. Especially when we had new children. She wanted to be close in case they woke up in the night and needed her.”
It’s a beautiful space decorated all in white with silver accents. Huge windows overlook the ocean and a balcony stretches across the entire glass wall.
I take in the living room with its white couches, a bathroom whose door is slightly ajar, giving me a peek at a freestanding tub, a small kitchenette with all the appliances one would need.
“It’s lovely.”
“Yes.” She smiles. “Mandy renovated it after she took over. She stayed here whenever work ran late.”
“And now you do.”
“Only temporarily, while she’s in the hospital. I still have my apartment in town. But lately…” She glances around the room. “I hardly go back. It feels strange to leave.”
“So, you’re following in Mrs. Potter’s footsteps?” I blink a few times to clear the haze from my eyes.
“I guess I am. I love being here for the kids, helping them feel safe like she did. If I get the director position, I wouldn’t mind making this my permanent home.”
She ushers me out again, and we make a stop at the meditation room. Through the door I hear a low murmur of voices.
She puts a finger to her lips. “There’s a session in progress right now.”
As we walk on, everything around me shakes and I have to lean against the wall to steady myself.
“Judy, you’re not well. Maybe this tour wasn’t a good idea. I can send one of the nurses to visit you in your room?”
“No, I want to see Sadie’s room… the room she stayed in, I mean.” I push away from the wall and keep walking.
“If you’re sure. Let’s skip everywhere else and go straight there. That way you can get back to your room as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.” This time I’m the one who squeezes her hand. “I really appreciate you doing this, Megan.”
I’m sure she’s bending rules. She can’t be allowed to bring an adult guest to the kids’ side.
She smiles and pulls me close. “I never asked much about your life now. You mentioned you are married already, but what do you do for a living? What did Judy become?”
“I’m a child psychologist.”
“Really?” She pauses. “That’s impressive. I’m so proud of you. I love that you chose a profession that also helps children.”
I want to add that there’s nothing impressive about a psychologist who failed to help her own child.
“Wouldn’t it have been something if you worked here? We do great things for the kids, and your skill sets would find the perfect home.”
“Maybe if I lived in town.” I don’t want to dampen her enthusiasm, but I’d never work in a place that reminds me so much of what may have happened to my daughter.
We turn a corner, passing several dorm rooms until we arrive at one positioned at the very end of the hallway, with a narrow window beside the door.
Through it I catch sight of a group of children playing volleyball on the beach.
Their bare feet kick up sand as they lunge for the ball.
Beyond them, the tide rolls in and out, and farther still, a white sailboat cuts through the blue water while two seagulls circle overhead, their wings silver in the sun.
“We’re here,” Megan says finally. “This is the room. Ready?”
I nod and she unlocks it. The room is dim, so she pulls back the blinds to let the light in.
There’s really not much to see aside from four bunk beds covered in baby-blue sheets, two bare desks, and three wardrobes. One of the wardrobe doors is half-open and I spot a few empty hangers inside.
“Which bed?” I ask through my tight throat.
“The one by the window.”
I hold my breath as I scan it for any sign that Sadie was here, but of course there’s nothing. “Doesn’t anyone stay in here anymore?” It feels a little cold and untouched.
“Of course. We just don’t have enough kids right now to fill all the rooms.” She folds her arms as though she feels the chill too. “Shall we get back to the other side? You should get some rest.”
“Would you mind if I stay a moment in here… alone?”
“Sure. I’ll step outside.”
The moment she walks out, I grab the notebook and pen I shoved into my jeans pocket before leaving my room and scribble a quick note. If Megan sees me do this, she’ll think I’m crazy, but I have to do something. The alternative is this crushing helplessness.
Sadie Sutton, if you see this, call me. We want you to come home, please. We miss you. Mom
Even though my number hasn’t changed in six months and she knew it by heart, I write it down anyway then slide the note beneath one of the mattresses, tucking it just far enough to be hidden.
“Feel any better?” Megan asks when I emerge. I force a nod.
“I’m glad.” She embraces me with an unexpected intensity that leaves me a little breathless.
As we walk back in the direction we came from, I stop and turn to look back. “I’d really love to see the room we used to stay in.” I actually thought she would show it to me without my prompting. “Room seventeen, right?” I ask, already changing direction.
Without waiting for her answer, I’m moving, my feet remembering the way, past the next corner, toward the fire exit. Muscle memory guides my steps.
“Judy, wait!” Megan hurries after me, catching my arm. She’s breathing hard. “That room—it doesn’t exist anymore.”
I stop. “What do you mean?”
“It’s in the process of being repurposed. It will be turned into a recreation room. In fact, this entire hallway is under renovation. We’re currently in a restricted area.”
I frown at her. “That’s odd. The map still shows it as a dorm room.” I push forward, my legs unsteady beneath me. “I just want one peek. Won’t take a minute.”
My pace quickens despite the dizziness, and as I round the corner, memories flood back. That first night in room 17, the pond glimmering outside the window, the unfamiliar safety of walls around me, the luxury of closing my eyes without fearing what might happen while I slept on the streets.
“The signage needs updating. We should really get you back to your room. You don’t look well.”
I push forward until I reach a stretch of hallway cordoned off with red caution tape, strung loosely from one wall to the other.
A plastic-covered notice dangles from the center of the tape. area closed: construction underway.
Ignoring the warning, I duck beneath the tape.
“Judy, stop—”
I don’t listen as my legs carry me the rest of the way to the final door.
Standing before it, I inhale deeply, and my fingers close around the cold metal handle.
It doesn’t move.
“It’s locked,” I say as Megan joins me.
“I told you this is a restricted area. We don’t want anyone going in these rooms and getting hurt. Contractors are in and out. It’s a liability thing.” Her hand touches my elbow. “We shouldn’t even be here. And I need to get back to work. I’ve got paperwork waiting.”
“Right.” Still, my hand tests the handle again. It’s locked tight.
Then a sound stops me cold.
Was that a sob?
“Judy, we really need to—”
I press my ear against the wood. “Shh! Someone’s in there… crying. Hello? Is anyone there?”
The soft sobbing continues.
“Did you hear that? Someone’s trapped! Do you have a key?”
“No, I don’t. Don’t worry, no one is in there.” Megan’s voice is a touch impatient now. “It’s probably something in the pipes.” She tries to take my hand but the sound comes again, a broken little sob.
“Hello?” I call, knocking. “Are you all right?”
No response.
I exchange a glance with Megan before knocking harder.
For a long second there is nothing.
Nothing. Then—
A voice, scratchy and faint.
“Mom?”