“Wait, what? That Barbara woman came to the shop?”
“She waited for me in the Christmas trees.”
I told her of the two names Barbara had given me to research, and how I went to the library and found that the girl, Amelia Shrank, had vanished in 1935, and that the hunter, Josh Stone, disappeared a decade later.
“And they both went missing in the woods behind my house. In the same month William disappeared.”
“We’re talking nearly three missing people in a century’s time, Lynn, how can there possibly be a connection. I mean, don’t get me wrong. It sounds strange.”
“It gets even stranger.” I took a deep breath, and told her about seeing my father and the men in the woods. Then, I reached into my purse and brought out the letter Daddy had written to Steven.
When she was done reading it, Roxy looked at me in astonishment. “Is this real?”
I nodded. “It’s Daddy’s handwriting.”
“Lynn… your father believed you were abducted as well? From the woods?”
“I still have trouble accepting it. But this is my father’s letter. And… I believe him. That he and Mama found me once. I can only hope I can do what they did.”
“Did they find you here?”
“I don’t know.”
“I still can’t believe any of it.” Roxy looked out the windshield. “I need a moment to wrap my head around all this. As long as you have no more revelations for the moment, I suppose we need to figure out where the hell we go now.”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, I’m old and cranky and scared and need caffeine. I don’t suppose they have a Publix out here anywhere, so that charming country store sign must indicate our only option.”
We rolled down the street to stop at the end of the businesses. A sign hung from the porch; it depicted a man waving from atop a mountain, with the word “Climbers” underneath.
“I’ll go in,” I offered. “If there are any customers, I’m going to show them William’s picture while I get you a drink. It can’t hurt to ask.”
“That depends. You realize that everyone in the country knows William’s picture. And if they have a TV, or a radio, or wifi, they’ve seen the video and may be talking—at this very moment—about the alien-obsessed wife of the senator.”
“Oh God, you’re right.”
“Let’s stick with me asking about William. You can’t see me in that video. And if anyone makes a joke about it, I’ll give them a fat lip. Just keep that sock hat and your sunglasses on if you run into anyone. And be quick with that Diet Pepsi. I’m dragging.”
I slid out of the car and walked across the wooden porch, entering the building that smelled like pipe tobacco and cardboard. Three rows of boxed goods, limited produce, and random medical supplies made up the entire shop.
“Can I help you?” asked an older man sitting at the front counter, a pipe in his mouth. He had hair that curled like ducktails around his ears.
I almost asked for the sodas, but all I could think about was that video released online. How dare those people use William’s disappearance to try to shame me into supporting them? They only made it harder for me to find him.
“Yes, I’m actually looking for someone.”
“By the ring on your finger, I’m sad to say it’s probably not me,” the man said, smiling kindly.
I brought out the picture of William. “Do you happen to recognize him?”
The man squinted and looked closely, then shook his head. “Sorry. Never seen the handsome devil. And I know everybody in this town. Let me guess: custody dispute? You the grandma? Your daughter won’t let you see your grandson or something?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s a long story. He’s my grandson, and I’m trying to find him.”
“His parents hippies or something? Come up here to take a stab at the marijuana trade? Can’t think of any other reason someone would bring a little boy this far out here. We don’t have many kids. All the ones I know are locals.”
“I wish it were that simple. Well, thank you. Oh, do you happen to have any sodas?”
“Got a few Diet Cokes and some Mountain Dew from my quarterly trip to civilization for supplies. Can’t get any of the delivery trucks to come here.”
“I’ll take a Diet Coke.”
The man reached under the counter, and I heard the faint whoosh of a small refrigerator door. The man placed the bottle on the smooth wooden surface. “On the house for the pretty lady.”
“Thank you.”
“I have to be honest with you: If there was a new kid in town, I’d know. We only have a few hundred people anyway.”
“I understand. But I have to try.”
“Good luck!” He added a small wave.
I opened the door of the Suburban to Roxy’s scowl. “Jesus, I hate Diet Coke.”
“You’ll survive. Let’s start at the bar.”
“OK, I’ll go there. I carry a flyer with William’s picture on it wherever I go, so I have something to show.”
“I’ll wander up and down the main drag, see if I run into anyone.”
Ten minutes later, having only seen abandoned stores and no people, I found Roxy sitting in the Suburban. “Sorry, Sis, no luck. In the laundromat, there was only a stoned couple—thanks for that, Colorado. Apparently, TV—and the internet for that matter—isn’t big around here, so they hadn’t seen him. Nor had the three people inside the bar, and their TV was set to SportsCenter. Let’s leave this booming metropolis and just start driving.”
We got in and drove for an hour, up and down the few quiet streets, seeing no one. “It’s getting dark now. And I’m beat. Let’s find somewhere to eat.”
I nodded. “I think that Scotty’s bar is all that’s open.”
At Scotty’s, we took a booth and ordered two small salads and grilled chicken sandwiches.
“What if he’s not here?” I asked.
“Honey, all you could do was check it out. And you did. You have done everything you could for William. And Brian. And Anne. You were supposed to call her tonight. I’m actually surprised there haven’t been any calls or texts. But I guess no news is good news.”
We ate our meal in silence. After a short drive back to the inn, we climbed the stairs to our room. Roxy opened the door and a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor.
“They didn’t wait long to stick us with the bill,” Roxy said.
I picked it up, realizing it was no bill. The old postcard had an artist’s rendering of the Argentum Inn back in its prime, perhaps the early twenties, surrounded by images of small waterfalls landing in creeks. Written in flourishing cursive were the words: “Stay at beautiful Argentum! Where the Water Falls.”
My arm immediately tingled in pinpricks.
“Where the Water Falls.”
The poem on the cards that I, and untold numbers of Researchers, had given so many times to the families of the missing came whispering in my mind.
All those years ago, Steven had dismissed the poem. He grumbled that he didn’t even know why we handed it out. He’d only said one of his colleagues started doing it and insisted all Researchers follow his lead.
Steven hadn’t realized the poem wasn’t intended to comfort families. Whoever that colleague was, he had meant it as a guide.
You are where the water falls.
“Sweet God,” I whispered. I looked again at the picture and quickly turned it over to show to Roxy when I saw the writing on the back.
In all capital letters, someone had scrawled: “LEAVE BEFORE THE STORM.”