HOURS LATER, I could still taste acid in my throat.
I sat on a plastic chair under a set of stark fluorescent lights. A thin gray blanket was spread over my shoulders. It scratched my neck whenever I tried to crane my head to see what was happening around the corner in the small workspace shared by the town’s deputies. The room was full now; it looked like every deputy and secretary in the force was on hand; plus, Julie Harper was pouring coffee in one corner, and a few townspeople milled about, having wandered in to see if they could lend a hand—or just to find out why the sheriff had been called to the woods at ten o’clock at night.
Sheriff Harper himself was on the phone, calling in for more reinforcements to scan the woods near the “scene.” And to collect the bodies.
He hung up and made his way over to the small hallway where Micah and I were sitting. Micah was hunched over in his own plastic chair, staring at his tennis shoes with wide, unblinking eyes. We hadn’t spoken a word to each other since he’d picked me up off the clearing floor and led me to the small access road by the lake. He’d been the one to call the police and explain what we’d found. He’d stood silently by my side as we waited for the squad car to drive up the dirt road and take us back to the station.
Micah barely glanced up as the sheriff came our way. Micah’s face was bone white against the shadows made by the harsh lighting of the hallway. The anger I’d felt toward him just an hour before felt so far away I could barely remember it, like trying to recapture the emotions of a dream. I had an idea of what was running through his head because it was the same thing running through mine—the smell, the darkness, the misshapen lumps on the forest floor that used to be parts of people. People he knew.
Sheriff Harper looked to me, then to Micah, then back again. He had bags under his eyes, and I wondered if he’d been sleeping when the deputy’s call came in. I pictured him on the brown La-Z-Boy where he used to fall asleep watching baseball games while Reese and I played in her bedroom as kids. Maybe the jangling phone call had startled him out of sleep, or maybe it had been a gentle nudge from Julie, waking him to let him know what had happened.
Either way, he couldn’t have been prepared for it in the slightest. Teenagers never died in Bone Lake. Not like this.
“Your mom is on her way to come get you,” the sheriff said to Micah. He turned to me. “And Cindy Wallace is coming for you.”
I gave a small nod.
“We have your full statements, so the best thing you can do now is go home and try to get some rest,” the sheriff continued. When neither of us responded, he cleared his throat and shuffled awkwardly in my direction. He put one hand on top of the gray blanket on my shoulder and patted it once, then twice.
“It was Bryan and Cassidy, wasn’t it?” Micah’s voice was flat and lifeless.
“We can’t know anything for sure until we identify the bodies.”
The sheriff’s words bounced around my skull. The bodies.
Micah just shook his head, slowly. “It was Bryan’s truck. I recognized it.” His voice lowered, so I could barely hear him when he added, “I was there when he bought it.”
The sheriff inhaled deeply before speaking. “I know you’ve both been through a trying experience. But we should really be careful not to jump to conclusions on what happened tonight until all the evidence from the woods is collected. There’s no need to upset folks until we know for sure, do you understand?”
Micah didn’t move or say a thing. I couldn’t stop seeing that burned hand, the one with the blue and gold nail polish. The colors of Bone Lake High School. The colors worn by cheerleaders like Cassidy.
For a moment, I thought I might be sick again. But some of the sheriff’s words got caught among the swirl in my brain and stuck there.
. . . until all the evidence from the woods is collected.
I thought of my dad’s photos. Shot after shot of trees, grass, and sky. And my dad was probably out there, right this moment. . . .
I shot up out of my chair, barely noticing when the gray blanket fell from my shoulders. Surprised, Sheriff Harper took a step back. Even Micah whipped his head up, seeming alert for the first time in hours.
“My dad,” I croaked. My voice sounded stiff. “He’s out there. He took his camping stuff. He’s in the woods—”
“Now, Penny—”
“Sheriff, what happened to those . . . what happened to . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say Bryan and Cassidy. Even more, I couldn’t bring myself to say the bodies. “. . . And then, the hiker that was found a few months back, and the deer . . .”
“Slow down, now,” the sheriff said, reaching out for my arm. I yanked it back, feeling panic course through me. Blackness swirled at the corners of my eyes, and a vibrating noise grew louder in my ears. If I didn’t sit down soon, I knew I would fall.
Sheriff Harper reached for my arm again and helped me down into my seat. Dimly, I could tell the workspace around the corner had gone quiet, and I wondered how many people had heard my little outburst. Micah reached out with one hand, his long fingers brushing briefly against my shoulder before falling away. I sat back in my chair.
“I understand you’re upset, Penny,” the sheriff said. His voice sounded smooth, his words logical. “We’re going to have to close off North Lake while we investigate this, and bring in reinforcements from other counties to search the area. We’ll find your dad.”
He sounded so sure. I managed a small nod, but the blackness stayed in the corner of my vision.
“I’ve known Ike for a long time, and I’m sure of one thing—that guy can take care of himself. I’m sure he’s over in Cheboygan or even up in Mackinac as we speak. He’s probably popping open a cool beer, sitting by the fire—”
I flinched at the word fire, and the sheriff caught himself.
“Don’t you worry about it,” he said.
But I was already beyond worry.
“Penny?”
I turned to see Cindy half jogging, half walking down the hallway. She was dressed in flannel pajamas and an orange robe, and her tennis shoes slapped against the linoleum floor. She gathered me up in a hug, squeezing me as if she hadn’t seen me in weeks.
“Are you okay?”
“She’s had a pretty big scare,” Sheriff Harper said. “Thanks for coming to get her, Cin.”
“Of course.” Cindy kept one protective hand on my arm. She lowered her voice. “Any luck reaching Ike?”
My stomach twisted.
“We’ll get hold of him soon. I was just telling Penny,” the sheriff said. But he was looking down at his hands instead of at Cindy or me.
Cindy nodded, then looked to Micah. “Do you need a ride, hon?”
Micah shook his head. “My mom’s coming.” His voice was stilted, robotic.
Cindy looped an arm through mine and led me away from the room, keeping me close to her side as if I were suffering from hypothermia and needed body heat to survive. I looked back at Micah to say goodbye, but his eyes were once again open wide and fixed on the ground. He seemed far, far away in that moment. Too far for me or anyone else to reach.
Dex was waiting up for us to get home. As Cindy and I came in through the front hall, I saw him pacing the living room in an old T-shirt and Spider-Man pajama bottoms that were at least three inches too short. He noticed us come in and took two giant steps in my direction, as though he was going to pull me into a hug. But right before he reached me, he stopped abruptly, his arms falling awkwardly to his sides instead of wrapping around me. He cleared his throat.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”
Cindy put one arm on my shoulder. “Penny will be staying with us tonight.” She looked down at me. “No arguments.”
I wasn’t about to argue. The thought of going home and sleeping alone in my cold bedroom, worrying about Dad and trying to shut out the images of the night, was less than appealing.
“Is it true?” Dex asked. “Was it Bryan and Cassidy?”
Cindy’s brow furrowed. “Where’d you hear that?”
“They said on the news that two bodies were found in the woods with a truck. They didn’t give names, but . . .”
“That was fast,” I said. I doubted the sheriff would be happy that the discovery in the woods was already part of the news cycle.
“So . . . was it them?”
“Dex,” Cindy warned. Her hand tightened on my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I mean, it’s not okay, but . . . there’s no use hiding from it. I’m pretty sure it was them.”
A sound escaped from Dex’s mouth then, something between a sigh and a gasp. Like the air was being involuntarily pushed out.
“I think maybe it’s time we all get some rest,” Cindy said. “Dex, why don’t you sleep on the couch and let Penny take your room?”
“No, really—” I started.
“Of course,” Dex said, already heading toward the linen cabinet in the hall.
“You don’t have to go to any trouble. . . .”
But Dex and Cindy were already moving in tandem, taking sheets out of the closet and arranging pillows on the couch.
Then Cindy’s hand was on my back and she was ushering me into Dex’s room. Though I hadn’t been here in years, it was almost exactly the same as I remembered it. A small television sat in one corner, surrounded by a variety of game consoles and clusters of wires. The walls were covered in posters from sci-fi and fantasy television shows and movies. A line of dusty action hero figurines lined one shelf near the door.
Dex’s bed was the only thing that was truly different. Instead of a narrow twin bed covered with a bright Pokémon spread, there was a larger queen with a dark blue bedspread pulled aside to reveal twisted maroon sheets. It didn’t look like a child’s bed anymore, but like somewhere an adult would sleep. It was disconcerting, suddenly, to picture Dex in that bed. Alone, or maybe even with a girl . . .
“You’ll be okay in here?” Cindy asked me gently. I turned to look at her and managed a smile. I wanted to talk—about what I’d seen, about how scared I was for my dad, but she looked so tired in that moment as she pulled her robe more tightly around herself.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay.”
Cindy nodded and left, easing the door half-closed behind her.
I sat down on the edge of Dex’s bed and looked around the room. There was no way I was getting any kind of sleep tonight.
A shadow passed by the door.
“Dex?” I called softly.
After a moment, Dex stuck his head in.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s my dad,” I blurted.
Dex’s features softened and he stepped into the room, lightly closing the door behind him.
“People are showing up dead in the woods, and he’s out there. I don’t know if he’s camping, like the sheriff said, or chasing down a lead like you seem to think, but he is out there. Somewhere.”
Dex took a step toward me and sat down next to me on the edge of the bed. He smelled like shampoo and sleep and boy.
“Before tonight, I was worried about Dad. But I was also mad at him. I really thought I might be able to find him, and he’d have some lame excuse . . . but what if something happened to him? Something really bad?” I asked. It felt awful, saying the words aloud. It gave them more weight, more meaning. More of a chance they were true.
Dex was silent for a long moment.
“You think something did happen to him,” I pressed. “You said that from the beginning.”
Dex sighed and shifted on the bed. “I know . . . but I am wrong about most things, remember? You’ve said that from the beginning.” He gave an attempt at a smile. “I’m sure he’s okay.”
“Do you really think that, or are you lying to make me feel better?”
Dex sucked in his bottom lip and fixed his eyes on the floor, as if he was seriously considering my question. Finally, he shrugged. “Maybe I’m lying to make myself feel better.”
I thought his answer would make me feel worse, but it did the opposite. The sheriff had done little more than shrug off my concerns, but Dex was here, sharing them. He was just as worried as me.
“Do me a favor, okay?” I asked. “No lying. Not even to make us feel better. If something did happen to my dad, we have to face it. We have to figure out how to find him.”
Dex nodded enthusiastically. “Deal.” He paused. “Does this mean I can talk about the Visitor theory again?”
“No.”
“Because if what happened to Bryan and Cassidy is the same thing as what happened to that hiker—”
“Dex,” I said, my voice a warning. “Let’s stick to the facts.”
“Facts. Got it. I can do that.”
He didn’t sound totally convincing.
“I mean, I can try,” he said.
I smiled a little despite myself.
“So what are we going to do?” I asked, pulling my legs up so I sat cross-legged on Dex’s crumpled sheets. “The sheriff said he’s going to look for my dad, but I can’t just sit around and wait.”
“How about first thing tomorrow morning, we stick to our plan of looking through your dad’s important files, the ones in the safe. I don’t know the combination, but maybe we can figure it out together. And maybe there’s something he left behind, some clue to tell us which direction he went in at least.”
“Okay.” I sat up straighter, my breathing more normal. “It’s a place to start, anyway.”
Dex sat next to me in silence for a few more moments, as if unsure what else to say. His fingers drummed a beat against his knees. “Do you want some company for a while? We can watch a movie or something. Something light. Like Pixar, maybe.”
It was almost tempting, and I wasn’t eager to be alone. But I didn’t want to lose myself in a fantasy world, either. I wanted to stay in this one. I wanted to sort through all the weird facts twisting through my head until they came together in a clear pattern. Until they revealed something true.
“I’ll be okay, Dex. Thanks, though.”
“Right,” he said, pushing himself up from the bed. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
As soon as the door was closed again, I lay back down against Dex’s pillows. I shimmied out of my jeans and put them on the floor next to my purse. I took out my phone and checked the time—1:13 a.m. I wondered if it was too late to text Micah. He probably wasn’t sleeping, either. But what would I say?
Thanks for getting me out of that pit full of bodies?
Sorry your friends are dead?
Are you okay?
He wouldn’t be okay, I knew that. And no text could make what happened tonight any better. I set my phone down on the floor and leaned back in the bed.
I kept telling myself to reach up and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, but dreaded the moment that the room would plunge into darkness. I left the light on. But my mind kept going back to the woods, to the leaves and darkness, to the charred skin and fingernails of kids I once used to pass on the playground every day.
To my dad.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, but didn’t really get more than ten minutes of sleep at a time. The light burned red dots through my eyelids, but still I didn’t reach up to turn off the lamp. After what felt like several hours, I heard a familiar chiming noise and jumped nearly a foot in the air. I reached over the side of the bed and picked up my cell phone, sighing heavily when I saw it was only 4:00 a.m. The chiming noise had been my email notification.
I lay back on the pillows with my cell phone in my hand. It wasn’t like I was going to get any real sleep that night, anyway.
I clicked open my email to see I had one new message. And then I stopped breathing.
It was from my dad.