And now he couldn’t find her. Despite all his planning and the careful way he mapped out his journey to ensure he never let Emma too far, he had lost track of her. He was at the airport when she was supposed to land. He wanted badly to be standing there waiting for her when she stepped off the plane. He could hold up a sign the way her friend from the Bureau did. She would be so surprised, and with the whole vacation ahead of her, they would have all the time to talk. He could answer her questions. She could answer his.
But he couldn’t. Still couldn’t. He would have to be satisfied by being in the terminal and watching her walk from the plane, her carry-on over her shoulder. She wasn’t one of those women who dressed up to travel like they were still stuck in a generation that was long since irrelevant. Her small collection of high heels and the dresses, skirts, and suits that took up the back half of her closet were relegated to work and very special occasions. Everything else meant a simple wardrobe that left her comfortable, if not glamorous. Yet she still managed to look elegant. People looked at her as she passed not because of the effect of her clothes or bold makeup. They looked at her because it was impossible not to. Emma always had a presence that took up the space around her unapologetically. She didn’t wither or blend. Even when perhaps, she should have. He admired her for that. He loved to watch the way people reacted to her without her realizing it was happening.
He’d watch and think to himself: mine.
But when the plane touched down, and the doors opened, she wasn’t there. He traveled ahead of her, which meant it was possible she missed her flight or chose another one without him knowing. He went to her hotel and waited for her to check-in, but she never did. Late that night, he approached the desk clerk and told her who he was and asked for her room number. The young man would have given it to him. Of course he would have. He had no reason not to. But Emma had never checked in.
Something was wrong. It had to be. She planned this vacation weeks ago and was looking forward to it. She wouldn’t just decide not to go. Something must have happened to her. He shouldn’t have gone ahead of her. It was too risky. It kept his eyes off her for too long. The last time he did that, the results were almost catastrophic. He didn’t want anything like that to have to happen again. He took care of it then, but the next time neither of them might be so lucky. He had to find her to make sure she was safe. He was the only one who knew her, the only one who could protect her.
Now he was back in town, but he couldn’t find her here, either. As far as he could tell, she wasn’t at home. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, and nothing seemed to have changed in the house. He couldn’t get too close. There were police crawling around the area, and he never knew when they’d be there. If they were a 24-hour surveillance, it would be easier to circumvent them. He could learn their patterns and find ways to get past them far more easily when they were always there than if they only showed up occasionally. Their random appearances shook him and made it harder for him to plan. He needed to find a way to get into the house again. He might be able to find where she went.
This would never have happened if her mother had listened to him.
Chapter Seventeen
“Everywhere. I need you to be absolutely sure you have searched every place where there are stairs of any kind. The dining hall, cabins, bleachers, the dock. Even if it doesn’t seem immediately like a flight of stairs, check.”
The teams nod at me and a few mumble acknowledgments of what I said before they split off in different directions to cover the sprawling space of the camp. All the children were sent off the camp property for the day, so the searches could go unimpeded. Sam didn’t want to pull all the search teams out of the other locations, so we only have a handful of people to help us search the grounds. He and I start at the most centralized spot, the camp office. This is where Sandy Brooks, the girl’s mother, found out her daughter was missing and where several interviews and investigations have already occurred. It’s unfathomable to think Alice could be right here, just tucked out of sight, and has gone unnoticed. But you can never be too sure about anything. You can never just make the assumption that everything is as it seems or as it should be. That’s when things are missed.
We start at the front of the office cabin and together search under the steps leading up to the small porch. They are made of simple slats of wood arranged in an open structure that make it easy to see directly under the porch. The clouds have burned away in the morning sunlight somewhat, but it’s still hazy, creating shadows and making pockets of darkness that are hard to see through. Sam shines a strong flashlight through the steps and sweeps the beam back and forth through the space. I’m braced for finding something even though I know the chances of Alice being under the office all along are very slim. It takes only a few seconds to eliminate the porch and that set of stairs. There’s nothing beneath it but dried leaves.
Continuing around the edge of the building, we come to the back door and the two steps that go up to it. Even more quickly, we eliminate that space as well. Next, we move on to the nearby dining hall. It’s a much larger building, and the porch on the front stretches the width of it. Sam and I separate and go to opposite ends of the porch. Pulling out the flashlight he gave me out of the trunk of his car when we got to camp, I shine the bright beam into the corners and then let it spread out wider. It meets Sam’s beam in the middle. The pool of illumination reveals nothing.
The clouds keep the glare of the sunlight out of my eyes, but the oppressive humidity is still there, and after two hours of searching, I’m soaked with sweat. I guzzle through a bottle of water and refill it at an outdoor faucet, taking a second to splash a handful on my face to rejuvenate me. So far, we’ve found nothing. The teams have covered all the cabins where the campers sleep during the sessions, paying particular attention to the one where Alice was last seen. They’ve scoured the recreation buildings, the counselors’ quarters, and the sports fields. Some have roamed deeper into the woods to go to the lake, where they’ll check under the dock designed to help young swimmers step down easily into the pool, and the boathouse filled with stacks of platforms and racks holding various watercraft.
Sam walks up beside me and reaches around to fill his own bottle.
“Anything?” I ask.
He shakes his head after gulping his own water down. “No sign of anything.”
“Have you heard from the teams outside of the camp?”
“They haven’t seen anything, either,” he says. “They’re going to start searching public buildings next.”
I shake my head. “I still think we’re supposed to be here. Those papers were chosen purposely. Whoever sent them to Vincent had a specific meaning for each one. Let me look at them again.”
Sam takes the envelope out of the backpack slung on his back and hands it to me. Stepping into the shade of a small event pavilion, I empty the papers out into my hand and spread them on a picnic table. I move the two drawings to the side and lay the other three out.
“This highlighter,” he says, pointing out the streak of blue across the bottom of the page. “Do you think Alice put it there?”
“No. It’s part of the message. It’s bringing attention to the time after ‘Lights Out’. Remember the girl who told the counselors Alice was missing said she saw Alice go to bed, but then when she woke up a little while later to go to the bathroom, her bed was empty. This was when she was taken.”
“But we already knew that. Why would he point out when he took her?” Sam asks.
I shake my head, looking at the other papers. “He didn’t. That’s not the point. It’s not just about this piece of paper. The two drawings went together. Alice and Brooks. The schedule isn’t about letting us know what she was doing or when she was taken. It’s a part of a message. That’s why I asked about the sleeping bag.”