As if she didn’t register what Vincent said to her when she walked into the room, Valerie turns to look at him with shock in her eyes.
“Why would you do that? I thought we agreed this is just some sick joke, and you shouldn’t give the person who did it the satisfaction of acknowledging it,” she says.
“I know that’s how you feel about it, but I can’t just pretend I didn’t find these things. They might be a joke, but they might not be. Sam asked for anything that had to do with these children, anything at all, to be brought to his attention. I think this qualifies as that.”
“All you found is some pictures and words that don’t mean anything. Everyone around here knows you’re a reporter and will likely be covering this case. Someone just wants attention. Making a big deal out of it is going to distract the actual investigation,” Valerie says.
“Not necessarily,” I tell her. “I admit, this is strange, and you don’t see things like this happening all the time, but that doesn’t mean it’s nothing.”
“You did the right thing by getting in touch with me,” Sam says. “I don’t want to miss a single possible detail or clue that could lead us to these children. I’d appreciate if you could show us the rest of the papers.”
Valerie lets out a sigh of exasperation and starts out of the room.
“You’re welcome to stay,” I call after her.
She turns back around slowly and looks at me with a condescending smile.
“No thank you,” she says. “I have more to do with my day than to waste it on a prank. Vincent, is Singer up?”
“Singer?” I ask.
“Our son,” Vincent explains. He looks over at his wife. “Not yet. He was up late last night, so I thought I’d let him get some extra sleep.”
“You can’t let him sleep the day away. That’s not good for him,” she says.
“It’s only seven-thirty,” I say before I think through it.
Sam looks at me, then flashes a smile toward Valerie.
“Exactly. And it’s summer,” he says.
“Be that as it may, I won’t allow my son to be lazy. Just because he’s not in school during the summer months and doesn’t mean he should just turn his brain off. He’s attending a day camp through the library this month. By the time he goes back to school in September, he’ll be well on his way toward reading through the classics. I find that a bit more beneficial than him lying around the house.”
Having made her point, she whips her dark red hair around and stalks out of the room.
“Don’t mind her,” Vincent says. “She doesn’t want to get involved. This is something she’s always worried about.”
“Children going missing?” I ask.
“Not exactly. I mean, I think every mother worries about that. I’m talking about me getting wrapped up in one of the cases I’m following. She thinks I put too much of myself into it, and it’s going to catch up with me,” he says.
“I thought she said she thought it’s just a joke,” Sam says.
“And I think part of her really believes that,” Vincent nods. “She doesn’t want to take it seriously. It worries her.”
“She might have something to worry about. These two pictures together are obviously referencing Alice Brooks. It could be just like she said, a sick joke, someone trying to get attention. Or it could be something a lot more serious. Whoever’s responsible for her disappearance could have chosen you to act as a messenger. The question is why,” I say. “Show us the other papers.”
Vincent moves the drawings and pulls out three more documents. The first is a copy of the camp schedule for the night Alice disappeared. A blue highlighter draws attention to the blank space after ‘Lights Out’. The second is a packing list distributed to the parents of the campers. The word ‘hammock’ has been added into the personal equipment section in the same blocky print as the envelope. The final piece of paper has words typed in huge bold font.
“’She’s sleeping beneath the stars’,” Sam reads. “Vincent, we’re going to take these with us. Thank you so much for getting in touch. For now, please keep this to yourself.”
“I can’t print anything about it?” he asks.
“Not yet,” Sam tells him. “I need to keep this from the public. Don’t tell anyone or print anything until I tell you.”
He stacks the papers and slips them into the envelope. We rush out of the house and into his car. Sam is already on his radio by the time my seatbelt clicks into place.
“I need every available officer and volunteer search party members. Organize searches of every field, empty lot, and campground in the area. Make sure there is a uniform at all locations.”
He ends the transmission and starts driving toward the station.
“Is her sleeping bag missing?” I ask.
“What?” he asks, looking over at me.
“Her sleeping bag. When you searched through her belongings at camp, did you find her sleeping bag?”
“Yes. It was with her other gear.”
I reach into the envelope and pull the papers out again.
“Sam, turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn around. We need to go to the camp.”
“The camp has already been searched. I think we need to focus on more open spaces,” he says.
“No, Sam. We need to go to the camp and search again,” I tell him.
“Why?” he asks.
We stop at a light, and I hold the papers out in front of him.
“Because this doesn’t say she’s sleeping under the stars. Look at it more closely.” I run my finger along the heavily bolded word. “The font has been condensed. The space between the letters has been reduced down until it’s almost invisible, but it’s there.”
“What is?” he asks.
“An ‘I’. It doesn’t say ‘stars’. It says ‘stairs’. She’s sleeping beneath the stairs.”
Chapter Sixteen
Him
Where was she?
Anger burned on the back of his neck and made each heartbeat feel like the pounding of a war drum through his hollow chest. She wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Her name was right there, written on the reservation. Nothing fake. Nothing veiled. Nothing undercover. It was her name, the one he had spoken countless times. The one he’d let roll through his mind many more. Emma Griffin.
He knew her travel plans as well as she did, had checked them several times and confirmed the details to make sure he didn’t miss her at any stop along the way. He needed to keep his eye on her. He couldn’t just let her be out there alone, without him close by. Even if she didn’t know he was there, he did. He couldn’t help but hope there was a part of her that sensed it, that knew he was nearby and that she was under his watchful eye. She had already been through so much. She felt alone for many years of her life and likely frequently wondered if there was anyone she could completely rely on.
She had to wonder that. Of course she did. It wouldn’t make sense if she didn’t. There was so much betrayal in her past. All the stories she was told, all the lies people led her to believe until she didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. She grew to understand some of it. Some of those stories were thrown away years ago when she opened her eyes and realized what was really happening around her. But in many more ways, she was still in the dark. She didn’t know the extent to which her mind was twisted, how much her world was manipulated and changed to suit the needs of others around her without any regard for her future. Or her sanity. She didn’t even know who she was.