It was still dark outside when I left my room at the Eden Tree. The foyer was empty. It was too early for the festival guests to start arriving, so the inn remained as quiet as an after-hours library. Porter was nowhere to be seen, which was a relief after our awkward parting last night.
I should have expected what would await me outside the Eden Tree. After all, I had announced on the most public forum in existence that Gemma Hill was missing.
Cameras flashed bright as bomb blasts in my face the second I stepped out the doors. I put up a hand to shield my eyes, blinking my whitened vision back to color. A group of disheveled men ringed the porch, all of them similarly dressed in baseball caps and jackets with excessive pockets in which to store their camera gear. All of them with cameras held up in front of their faces.
Paparazzi. I scanned the parking lot, but didn’t see any real reporters, only these vultures.
“Hey Liv, look over here,” one of them said, and snapped his fingers at me like I was a toddler getting my portrait taken at Walmart. The cameras began flashing again.
Instead of pushing past them and making a run for my car, I wordlessly raised my own camera and hit RECORD, panning across the lot of them. I hid my face behind my camera as I filmed them right back. I kept filming as I walked to my car, and only cut when I was behind the wheel.
As I drove away, I wondered if I had made a huge mistake, enlisting the Internet to assist in finding Gemma. I reasoned that the paparazzi would have found out anyway, but perhaps they wouldn’t have gotten here quite so soon. They must have hit the road as soon as they watched my video.
But who knew? Maybe the paparazzi would prove useful for once. The more people in town looking for Gemma, the better.
* * *
Despite @AnnikaKron’s insistence that I shouldn’t bother, I had no intention of skipping my sister’s search party. Not only would that look bad, but I didn’t trust @AnnikaKron. Whoever she really was, it was clear she was playing some kind of game with me, and until I knew the rules I didn’t intend to play by them.
When I arrived at the White Wolf Trailhead, there were already a dozen vehicles parked along the road, including the Bullshit Hunters’ van. I spotted Helene and Anders Larsen among those milling about, waiting for Sheriff Lot to call everyone to attention. I waved to them, and Anders nodded hello, but Helene turned her face away. Clearly, I was not forgiven, but Gemma must be since Helene had come out at the crack of dawn to look for her.
Niklas was not with his parents, nor had I expected him to be, which meant he was probably at the sanctuary. Alone. This might be my only chance to talk to him on his own without anyone intervening.
I parked and slung my camera over my neck before getting out. The sun had risen, but its light was blocked behind a bulky sweater of clouds. Another storm was coming.
Danny appeared to be milking my sister’s disappearance for all it was worth. He had the Bullshit Hunters interviewing search party members on camera. I made my way toward my former co-hosts. Their backs were to me, so I stood a few feet behind them, listening as they interviewed a woman with hair the color of tomato soup, the one I’d spoken to at the café where Gemma and I had lunch the day before.
“Brenda, you were one of the last people to see Gemma Hill alive,” Sasha stated. “What can you tell us about that final encounter?” She made it sound as though Gemma going missing was instant confirmation of her death.
“She came into the shop with another woman, a blonde,” Brenda said. “They looked like sisters, but things were tense between them. They got into a fight and Gemma—Ms. Hill—left abruptly without finishing her lunch.”
“Do you know what they were fighting about?” Sasha asked.
“I think—oh.” Brenda’s eyes had found me, and her cheeks reddened to match her hair. “That’s her right there.”
Danny and the rest of them revolved toward me, still recording. Danny whispered something to Sasha. She nodded.
“Liv,” Sasha said. “What were you and Gemma fighting about yesterday before she disappeared?” She had adopted some kind of perky “interviewer” voice a couple of octaves higher than her natural voice, trying to merge my character from Bullsh?t Hunters into hers. She’d added blond highlights to her brown hair, and had traded her usual dowdy ensemble for a curve-hugging bodycon dress and lace-up boots.
I looked Sasha up and down. “Nice dress. Good choice for a day of serious searching in the woods.”
I kept walking past them, catching Wheeler’s eye briefly and nodding when he gave me a covert thumbs-up.
Sheriff Lot stood next to his cruiser, talking to two deputies. I approached them, and they fell silent. Lot gestured for the deputies to give us some space, and they drifted away toward a pickup truck with its tailgate down. The owner had been kind enough to bring a catering-size thermos of coffee and an array of pastries.
“What’s the plan?” I asked the sheriff.
“We’ll wait a few more minutes for stragglers to arrive, and then we’ll get started,” Lot said.
“How many more people do you expect?”
“This might be it. The call went out late last night. More searchers will join us throughout the day.”
“I hope so.” For someone like Gemma, I would have thought the entire town would show up. But maybe after four previous victims vanished without a trace, they felt there was no point in looking. I did notice that several of the paparazzi had followed me, but had yet to emerge from their vehicles. They stayed put in the driver’s seats, telephoto lenses at the ready. I had a bad feeling there would be nothing for them to capture and sell to TMZ.
“If there’s nothing else—” Lot turned away to consult the map laid out on the hood of his cruiser, but I stepped in front of him.
“I need to ask you something.”
“I’m busy. Make it quick.” He’d been more impatient with me since Danny suggested to him that I’d set this whole thing up for the benefit of my series. I’d done my best to convince Lot otherwise, but he didn’t fully believe me. Maybe if I spilled my guts, told him everything I’d been holding back, I could get him on my side again. But @AnnikaKron’s last message stopped me.
If you tell anyone about me, I’ll disappear for good, and so will your sister.
I couldn’t risk what might happen if I defied her, or whoever was pretending to be her.
“I read Annika Kron’s file,” I said.
“You got it all figured out, then?” Lot asked.
I brushed off his sarcasm. “Was she in the Wolf Woods during the fire? Is that how she burned her hands?”
The mockery in his eyes shifted to uncertainty. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know, Sheriff. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, but shook his head. “As far as I know, there’s no connection between her burns and the wildfire.”
“But she went in for treatment three days after the fire. Doesn’t that strike you as a notable coincidence?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Of course,” he said tersely. “That’s why I contacted the doctor who treated her to ask if he remembered anything about her visit. It was over fifteen years ago, so he didn’t have much to say. The only thing he could tell me was that she seemed numb to the pain, and didn’t make a single sound as he cleaned and dressed the wounds. He said it was like she didn’t even feel it.” The sheriff paused a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek, and then added, “I asked him if he thought the burns were fresh, or if Annika had waited to get treatment. He admitted it was possible, but it was a long time ago. He couldn’t say for sure.”
I nodded. “What’s the closest medical center to Stone’s Throw?”
His answer was reluctant. “There’s a general practitioner in Stone’s Throw who could have treated the burns.”
“Then why do you think she felt the need to drive over two hours to a hospital in San Francisco?”
“Maybe she didn’t trust small-town doctors.”
“Or maybe she wanted to go somewhere no one knew her. Somewhere she could be anonymous.”
“Fine. But I still don’t see what any of this has to do with the Dark Road.”
“What was Annika’s relationship to Niklas Larsen?”
“They knew each other. She spent a lot of time at the wolf sanctuary, filming for that movie, and Niklas was there.”
“Were they friends? They were around the same age.”
“Nik didn’t really have friends. His parents didn’t know it at the time, but he’s severely autistic. Not quite Rain Man, but definitely not high functioning. But he and Annika talked, mostly in Norwegian. As far as I know, their shared first language was the only reason they spoke.”
“Can you think of any reason why Annika and Niklas would have been in the woods together the night of the fire?”
“I cannot.” He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefingers. “Look, you clearly have some kind of theory you’re running down. Do you have any evidence to support it, whatever it is, or is all of this just speculation?”
“I don’t have any yet, but—”
“See, that’s the pesky thing about real police work in comparison with reality TV. You need more than guesswork. Let me know when you have something solid. In the meantime, I need to get back to doing my job. Or don’t you want me to find your sister until you’re good and ready for her to be found?”
“I have nothing to do with Gemma’s disappearance,” I hissed at him.
He leveled his black eyes on me. “I can’t ignore coincidence,” he said.
“Neither can I.”
“Fair enough.”
“Sheriff,” one of the deputies called. “We’re ready over here.”
Lot snatched the map off his hood and started toward the deputy, but I grabbed his arm. The muscle felt hard as glass under my hand. Lot looked at me, eyes simmering. “Something else?”
“What’s your opinion on Soren Kron?” I asked.
“My honest opinion? You should stay away from him. Morrison, too.”
“Porter? Why?”
“Because you don’t get one without the other, and Soren Kron makes Donald Trump seem virtuous.”
My cheeks heated, thinking of Soren’s unabashed leering. “Why are he and Porter still friends?” I asked.
“That’s a question you’ll have to ask Morrison,” Lot said. “Best guess, it’s because Morrison has a hard-on for Soren’s daddy.”
I let my hand drop, and Lot walked away. I watched him until the crowd of searchers closed around him. When he was out of sight I reached into my coat’s breast pocket to adjust my body camera. I had been recording since the moment I arrived. I couldn’t use the footage for my series without getting everyone to sign a release, but I didn’t care about that anymore. It was for me, so I would have a record of what was said. So I could review the footage later to see if I’d missed anything.
By the time Lot gathered the searchers, there were about twenty-five people present. The deputies handed out walkie-talkies while Lot explained the system, how we were to fan out in teams of two to cover as much ground as possible. When he said this, my eyes flew desperately to Wheeler’s, but he gave me a helpless look and gestured to Danny, mouthing, I can’t.
I watched the remainder of the searchers pair off with people they knew. There was an odd number. I had no one with whom to partner. I glanced at Lot to see if he noticed, but he was addressing the group again, paying no attention to me.
“One last thing,” Lot said. “Unfortunately, many of you have done this before, and you know the drill. If you see anything—a strand of hair, a scrap of clothing, a footprint, a drop of blood—I need you to use the walkie to radio me directly, but do not touch anything. I repeat, do not touch anything. I have to stay behind to wait for the canine unit. It looks like there’s weather coming our way, so we don’t have any time to waste. Let’s get moving.”
The searchers headed into the woods on either side of the road. I started walking, avoiding Lot’s eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice that I didn’t have a partner. When I heard my name, I froze, caught, but the voice didn’t belong to Lot.
I turned to find Porter jogging after me, in a heavy anorak and hiking boots.
“I thought you had to work,” I said when he reached me.
“I do, but this is more important. I can only stay for a couple of hours, but I want to help.” He reached out as though to pull me in for a kiss hello, but my expression stopped him. “You don’t look happy to see me,” he said.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about his sudden arrival. I kept thinking about Lot’s caution to stay away from Soren, and Porter, too, by association. But I needed to know more about Soren, especially after learning he had plagiarized and possibly terrorized a writer and his family. Maybe Porter was too goodhearted to realize that his best friend was a bad guy. And maybe that could work to my advantage. If Porter didn’t think Soren was guilty of anything, it might be easier to coax potentially damning information out of him.
“I am,” I told Porter. “I’m happy to see you. I’m just worried about Gemma.”
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now,” he said, brows drawn together in sympathy. “Did you get any sleep?”
I shook my head, willing my eyes to fill with tears. I rarely cried genuine tears, but I could summon the fake ones when I needed them, something Gemma and I had in common.
“I have to find her,” I told him, and he put his arms around me, pulled me in for a hug, which felt strangely inappropriate considering Porter’s dick had already spent time inside of my vagina. But somehow this hug felt more intimate than sex, and the intimacy felt too sudden, like we’d skipped a few essential steps. Sex without intimacy I could do, but sex without intimacy that then led to an actual emotional attachment…I wasn’t sure what to do with that.
Porter’s hand moved to the back of my neck, massaging lightly. His touch felt good, but I had to resist the urge to recoil from him.
“We should get moving.” I pulled away and started into the blackened trees in a different direction from the rest of the search party.
“Aren’t we supposed to be going the other way?” Porter asked, hurrying to catch up with me. He pointed toward the few searchers we could still see through the trees. “They’re all headed south and east.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why we’re going west. To cover more ground.”
“Is that what Lot said we should do?”
“Trust me.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “This is the way we need to go.”