Elsie had intended to get straight back to work after they returned to her cabin, but after the time they’d spent in the police department conference room reading through case after case, her eyes and heart needed a break. Too many people did not get found. Her job reminded her every day that she’d been lucky to not be lost on that island until hunger or exposure had overtaken her.
So instead of diving back in immediately, she found herself stalling. It wasn’t like being on the ground in an active search. She hoped that the time spent poring over these cases would be time well spent, whether they saw something that helped her approach a search differently or, even better, found a connection somehow between an old case and her current one. Anything that helped focus their energies so that when she and Willow did get back to the island they had a more targeted area to search would be helpful.
“Do you, uh...? Do you want anything to eat? I mean, I don’t have anything super interesting, but I’ve got sandwich stuff.”
“A sandwich would be great.” He smiled appreciatively, and then Elsie watched as he sank to the floor beside Willow and started to rub the dog all over. Willow, usually a bit standoffish around people who weren’t Elsie, rolled entirely onto her back, seeming to soak in the attention.
If she hadn’t already liked him, seeing him sitting on the floor with her dog certainly would have been enough to catch her eye. That was the problem with Wyatt. He was so much more than she expected, and she never seemed to be able to anticipate the ways he would be attractive to her. He just was.
“Here you go.” She handed him the sandwich and sank down onto the couch, grabbing a handful of chips from an open bag. She ate in silence, then looked over at Wyatt. “Those files depress me.”
“Seeing all the people you couldn’t help?”
She sighed and nodded.
“Which ones stuck out to you so far? Anything give you new ideas for how to search like you were hoping for?”
“This one...” She tugged a couple of pieces of paper out of a manila folder.
“A man wandered off hiking in the Caribou Hills and never came back?”
“Yes. I picked it just because it’s close to here. And because searchers found him by examining his life and patterns and analyzing how he was most likely to move and then following that path. That’s something I didn’t do enough of in the previous days of searching. I need to get to know our missing person better, guess how she thinks, get inside her head.” She reached for another example, handed it over to Wyatt, who skimmed it as he ate his sandwich. “Here’s another.”
“Boater who disappeared not far from here... Ever found?”
She shook her head. “Just the boat. I helped with that case, but we were never able to find him. Not alive or dead. It just catches my eye because it’s one of my failures.”
“Do you think of them that way, really? Like, do you carry them around like that?”
She scooted to the floor so she was sitting beside him on the other side of Willow, who was still stretched out, enjoying the attention he was giving her.
“I don’t know. I don’t mean to. But probably. It makes the wins sweeter, though...”
Elsie frowned, then stood up.
“Elsie? Where are you going?”
“Give me a second...” Her mind was spinning, something in what she had thought or said turning the wheels of her mind in a way that was confusing and clarifying all at the same time. Wins...
“Why did someone start coming after me now?” she muttered as she dug through the piles that had accumulated on her small table in the last couple of days.
There it was, the newspaper article from the successful rescue that had taken place only days earlier...two days before the threat against her had surfaced? No, only one. The rescue itself had taken place one day, the article had come out the next, and that night someone had broken into her cabin.
“What if someone...?” It was too strange to voice aloud the thoughts formulating in her mind, so Elsie paused and went back to the file. Pulled out another case.
“Here.” She handed it to Wyatt, who looked it over. She sat back down beside him.
“Three-year-old found...island... Wait—this is...”
“Yes. It’s me.”
She waited for his reaction, anxiety and excitement building within her, and she started to wonder more and more if she was right. “I know I said this earlier, but I can’t get it out of my head. What if someone wanted me dead? Like, what if it wasn’t just child neglect or abandonment? My whole life I assumed no one wanted me. Like I was forgotten there and not worth going back for or something.”
He recoiled like she had hit him.
Elsie held up a hand to stop him before he even started. “I know it bothers you that I would think that way, but you need to let it be. You can’t do anything to change all of that. What I’m wondering is... What if I was wrong? What if someone actively wanted to get rid of me?”
“Like murder instead of neglect? Like you really did witness a crime?”
He put into words what she could not, but she still flinched a little at the word murder. It seemed so harsh, but in reality, leaving a three-year-old on an island, even without such stated intentions, was just as cruel.
“Yes,” Elsie said even as she hoped it wasn’t true. Who would want that in their past?
She pulled her phone out and started googling. If different memories kept appearing when she was on the island, triggered by smells or sounds, would it be possible to trigger memories herself?
Every angle she could try to search, she did so. Murdered women and then the year. Alaskan women murdered. Domestic violence Alaska.
Nothing.
“One more idea...” she mumbled. Elsie typed in the phone number for the Office of Children’s Services and asked around until she found someone who could pull up her old file.
“Is there anything in my file,” she asked, hoping desperately that her one last attempt to trigger some kind of flashback wouldn’t be a failure, “that points to domestic violence or violence of any kind?”
If the woman on the other end of the phone thought it was a strange question, she didn’t say so. She just told Elsie she was looking.
“No... There’s really just not enough detail...” The woman stopped. “Maybe one thing.”
Elsie definitely believed in leaps at this point. “I’d love to hear anyway. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”
Across from her, Wyatt had looked up from the files and was watching her, though she knew he could only hear her end of the conversation.
“There’s a note that you kept repeating ‘Mommy crying.’ No mentions of violence specifically, but...”
“Thank you for the help,” Elsie said even as a chill ran down her arms. She hung up the phone.
Crying.
The darkness. No, not just darkness. The hall closet. Hidden behind the coats. Screaming. Crying. Her mother.
Her mother had been crying. The woman in the dream was her mother.
Breaths coming rapidly now, Elsie nodded. “It fits.” She swallowed hard against the emotion building, tears threatening to fall even as her throat stung. “I think someone wanted to get rid of me—murder me—” she stumbled over the word again “—because the flashback...there’s more to it and...I think they killed my mother and...I was there.”
“Oh, Elsie.”
He reached for her and Elsie was surprised at how easy and natural it felt to be in his arms. The longer he held her, the more she felt herself relaxing into him and the more what had started as a hug of reassurance moved, at least for her, into a deep awareness of how close she was to Wyatt.
And how much it could take her mind off even the darkest elements of her past.
He pulled away, his face a muddle of emotion.
It was a lot to take in, Elsie realized, even for someone who, well, wasn’t her. Wyatt looked stunned, and she’d, of course, not delivered any of those thoughts as graciously as she could have because she was still stumbling through explanations and guesses herself.
“Even reading this...” He trailed off as he waved the packet she’d handed him about her rescue. “And you saying you didn’t think anyone wanted you...”
“When I was a kid,” she felt the need to clarify, as she definitely didn’t need his pity.
But he was already shaking his head. “You act that way now, living out here without people nearby, refusing the help of law enforcement that first night. Refusing my help initially.”
“Really? I’m the one who lives like they’re not wanted?” Elsie said defensively.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Wyatt’s voice was calm, so calm. Low. Serious.
“Maybe it’s good that you’re not a player anymore, but now you act like...like...like no one would want you.”
“That’s completely different.”
“How?”
“’Cause I’m not you. You’re different. You deserve better.”
“And you don’t?”
They were facing each other now, sitting on the floor.
“We aren’t talking about me.”
“Maybe not then, but we are now.” She’d told herself she wouldn’t be so bold again, not after how awkward that last conversation had been, but something had snapped inside her when he’d shown such care and concern, trying to convince her she wasn’t unwanted. As though that wasn’t just the most ironic thing she’d ever heard.
His eyes were fixed on hers, and he was sitting inches away. She had the sudden desire to...to reach over and pull him closer...maybe to kiss him.
Yes. That was exactly what she wanted, if she was honest with herself. For days she had watched as he proved he had changed.
She believed in that change, but he didn’t. He didn’t see himself the way she did.
Wyatt Chandler was never going to start something with her. Earlier she’d have said it was because he didn’t want that, and now...
Maybe it was because he felt like he didn’t deserve it. Or maybe he was just scared.
Either way, Elsie could control very little in her life right now. But she could control this.
Before she could stop herself, she moved closer, her breaths growing shallower the closer she came, her lips parting, eyes flicking to his mouth. Then his eyes.
He knew what she was doing.
He didn’t stop her.
The whisper-soft brush of Elsie’s lips across his, followed by a second kiss with more intensity but not less gentleness, didn’t catch Wyatt off guard, but nor would he say he was prepared for it.
This was what he’d wanted for days, what he’d tried to stop himself from dreaming about since he started to see Elsie differently. Wyatt didn’t know why he hadn’t paid attention to Lindsay’s friend back then, but he’d noticed now.
Just as slowly as she’d begun it, she ended the kiss, pulling back just enough that they weren’t touching, but lingering close to him for a moment longer. He could freeze time right there. Forget about finding redemption and proving himself. Forget about murder investigations and stalkers.
“Wyatt?”
Her voice was soft and hesitant. Much more hesitant than her kiss, which had been confident. Unwavering.
“Yeah?”
“Are you sorry I kissed you?”
She was so honest, so willing to drag conversations into the light. She was missing the self-protective instinct to hide her feelings, or maybe she simply didn’t play games.
All Wyatt had done as a kid was play games.
He wanted to be different now. Wasn’t completely sure if he knew how.
Help me, God, he prayed, meaning it as much as he’d ever meant any prayer. He couldn’t return her honesty with anything but the same.
“No, Elsie. I’m not sorry.” He should be. Shouldn’t he?
Shame. Guilt. Peace. Forgiveness.
He was overwhelmed.
“I just...” He moved back slightly, ran a hand through his hair. “I need a second.”
She backed up. “Take a second. It’s fine. As many seconds as you need.”
Was it hot inside her cabin? Wyatt needed space. Air. Away from Elsie, even though at the moment all he could think of was how he wanted to pull her back toward him, kiss her until he forgot all about who he used to be and until she knew how much he cared about her.
But wouldn’t that make him who he used to be?
“I need... I’m just going to step out...” He stood, moved toward the door. “Just for a second.”
Her eyes were wide. Clear. Questioning, maybe. He hated that she wondered how he was feeling right now, but as much as he’d like to reassure her, he was so entirely overwhelmed that he couldn’t put any of it into words. “Lock the door behind me.”
“I will,” she promised, and he stepped out into the cool, damp air.
Wyatt walked into the woods, realizing another reason Elsie might want to live out here. You could have all the space to think you wanted when you lived on the edge of the woods like this.
For years all Wyatt had wanted was to convince people that he had changed, to get them to believe him. Now Elsie did believe him, but it was somehow still overwhelming to him.
God, I don’t get this. I’m trying to get better, to be a different kind of man.
Sure, he hadn’t been to church, he didn’t pray too often. Surely God would rather he wait until he’d proved himself. Until he had really changed.
As quick as the thought came, Wyatt knew it was wrong. Without thinking, he looked up at the sky. Blinked. Was that God, correcting him without a word?
The truth that he’d learned as a kid, he remembered now standing in the woods, was that God wanted His people to know Him. To talk to Him. Not to wait until they were some impossible version of perfect that they would never be.
I’m sorry, God. I shouldn’t have stayed away. The list of things that would have been easier to handle if he’d taken them to God first seemed to run through his mind all at once.
God... Wyatt started walking again as he prayed. About Elsie. What do I do? It would be so easy to fall in love with her, but what do I know about love?
Again, almost as soon as he had the thought, the moment the prayer had left his heart, there was an answer. Verses from the book of 1 Corinthians in the Bible came into his mind. “Love is patient...love is kind...”
Okay, so God had spelled out some things about love. He could work on those. He could show her differently that he loved her, not just with words that could be empty, not just with kisses that could be motivated by something besides love.
Not that the kiss they’d shared had been like that. Wyatt was sure he’d never felt a kiss with so much genuine emotion in it. Elsie kissed softly, but with her entire heart. It seemed to fit with who she was as a person. Gentle. Sweet. But strong.
He had told her the truth. He didn’t regret the fact that she’d kissed him. Was it possible for them to start a real relationship? When this was over and Elsie didn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder, would she still be interested in him?
“I think I’m falling for Elsie,” he whispered to himself, to God, to the silence of the woods.
Elsie.
The woods were quiet. So quiet, and a sense of discomfort crept over him, causing him to tense his muscles. He shouldn’t have left her. He’d been gone too long already.
Wyatt started back toward the cabin, reminding himself that no one liked to be smothered, and Elsie had been living on her own for years before now without any trouble at all.
The cabin in the distance looked the same. The warm glow of light coming from the windows reminded him of Elsie herself. Everything was fine. He’d overreacted.
He hurried to the front door of the cabin, pushed it open.
The kitchen looked the same. The living room looked the same. His eyes were drawn to the spot in front of her couch where they’d been sitting on the floor beside Willow when Elsie had kissed him.
But Willow wasn’t there.
Elsie wasn’t there.
Everything was so very quiet.
“Elsie?”
She wouldn’t have left after that, would she? He’d told her that he’d be right back, but what if she hadn’t listened? She could have gone looking for him.
He had to find her. Shutting the door behind him, Wyatt hurried back into the woods.
“Elsie!” The woods that had felt so welcoming only minutes before now seemed to have darkened, become somehow malevolent. If Elsie had been taken out of the cabin against her will, she could be hurt, or worse. He’d seen no sign of blood, but that didn’t mean very much.
He hoped Willow was with her, though he almost wished she was with him so they could find Elsie together.
Come on, help me. He prayed to God, desperate and with no other plans for finding her. Wyatt knew it was a long shot, but he had no idea what else to do other than search.
God would have to work out the rest.