When Taylor and I get back from the chapel talk, Anna is visibly frustrated. As she helps Taylor get her swimsuit on she expresses that frustration. Why were we so late. We must have gone somewhere afterward—no doubt to interview someone about Magdalene’s disappearance. Why does everything always have to be on my schedule. I cost her valuable beach time because I’m selfish and inconsiderate.
As I listen, I wonder again what happened to my sweet, supportive wife. She really doesn’t even seem like the same person.
Several times I start to challenge what she’s saying, but each time decide that as bad as it is for Taylor to being hearing all this, it would be worse for her to witness an argument.
“You didn’t have to wait for me, Mommy,” Taylor says. “You could’ve gone without me. I wouldn’t mind.”
“I was happy to wait on you, sweet girl,” Anna says.
Happy is not how I would describe the way in which she waited.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say to Taylor.
“You didn’t either, Daddy,” she says.
“Okay,” Anna says. “You’re all ready. It’s beach time. Let’s go.”
I give Taylor a hug. As I do, Anna quickly picks up her beach bag and cooler, and when I attempt to hug her uses them as shields to block me.
When they are gone, I change clothes and get ready to go join the search. As I do, I pray for Anna, for answers and healing, to get my wife back. I then pray that I will have the patience and the grace to be kind and loving no matter what she says or does—something I’m too often failing at these days.
Realizing I have a few extra moments before I need to leave, I sit at the small desk, open my laptop, and begin watching the security camera footage again.
I open the file named 12/21.
At 5:56 a.m. Keith exits the back door. At 6:47 a.m. Hal Raphael exits the front door. At 7:11 a.m. Keith enters the back door. At 10:15 a.m. Christopher exits the front door. At 10:18 a.m. Christopher enters the front door carrying mail.
At 10:57 a.m. a female UPS delivery person enters the front door carrying a tall stack of parcels. At 11:01 a.m. the UPS delivery person exits the front door carrying several small parcels. At 11:29 a.m. a male FedEx delivery person enters the front door carrying four medium-sized packages and three small ones. At 11:35 a.m. the FedEx delivery person exits the front door with two large packages. At 11:09 a.m. Scott Haskew and Henrique Arango enter the front door. At 12:33 p.m. Hal Raphael enters the front door. At 1:27 p.m. Hal Raphael exits the front door. At 1:33 p.m. Henrique Arango exits the front door.
At 2:27 p.m. a woman carrying a backpack exits the front door.
At 3:17 p.m. a young man exits the front door. At 4:21 p.m. Scott Haskew exits the front door. At 5:28 p.m. Hal Raphael enters the front door carrying two plastic shopping bags.
At 9:26 p.m. Hal Raphael exits the front door.
I open the file named 12/22.
At 6:16 a.m. Keith exits the back door. At 6:17 a.m. Hal Raphael enters the front door. At 7:17 a.m. Keith enters the back door. At 7:19 a.m. Hal Raphael exits the front door. At 10:17 a.m. Christopher exits the front door. At 10:21 a.m. Christopher enters the front door carrying mail that includes a newspaper and a few packages.
At 11:07 a.m. a female UPS delivery person enters the front door carrying several parcels. At 11:11 a.m. the UPS delivery person exits the front door carrying a few small and medium parcels. At 11:39 a.m. a male FedEx delivery person enters the front door carrying a single medium-sized package. At 11:43 a.m. the FedEx delivery person exits the front door with two large packages. At 12:09 a.m. Scott Haskew enters the front door. At 12:37 p.m. Hal Raphael enters the front door. At 1:17 p.m. Rake Sabin enters the front door. At 1:33 p.m. Charis Tremblay enters the front door carrying several Christmas gifts. At 1:43 p.m. Demi Gonzalez enters the front door carrying three small Christmas gifts. At 1:51 p.m. Sarah Samuelson and Brooke Wakefield enter the front door carrying large cardboard boxes of what looks to be decorations.
Glancing at the time at the top of the screen, I realize I’m running late. Closing the computer, I jump up, and rush out the door.
I arrive at the staging area to find a loving and supportive group of dedicated volunteer searchers who rather than being overly earnest and somber are upbeat and jovial.
Clarence and Sarah Samuelson, the owners of The Sand Witch, have tables of food and drinks set up and are serving everyone in a manner reminiscent of the way the gracious and generous angels of mercy have been back home in the aftermath of Michael.
“Would you like a gourmet grilled cheese and a cup of tomato basil soup?” Sarah asks as I approach the table.
I remember that I haven’t eaten anything today and realize how hungry I am.
“Sure,” I say. “Thank you. This is incredibly generous of you.”
“It’s the least we can do,” Clarence says.
“Where’s that cute little girl of yours?” Sarah asks.
“She and her mom are headed down to the beach.”
“We sure enjoyed our time with her yesterday,” Clarence says. “What a bright, sweet, mannerly little girl.”
“Thank you,” I say. “She enjoyed y’all.”
“She enjoyed our ice cream,” Clarence says. “We know what’s what.”
“You feed the volunteers every time they search?” I ask.
“Feed them then help search,” Sarah says.
“It’s the least we can do,” Clarence says. “The time we could’ve done more than the least we can do was that night.”
He doesn’t have to say any more than that for me or anyone else to know which night he’s talking about.
“That poor little darling,” Sarah says. “I can’t believe that I . . . that I didn’t . . . wake up. I’m usually such a light sleeper.”
“We drank too much,” Clarence says.
She nods slowly and frowns. “I suppose so.”
“Do either of you remember anything odd or off from that night?” I ask.
“I remember we drank too much,” Clarence says.
“Anything else?”
“Nothing that means anything,” Sarah says.
“Mind telling me anyway?”
“It was just an off year,” Sarah says. “Nothing big. Everyone was just sort of over it all before we ever got started good. The holidays, you know?”
“I remember Keith and Christopher checking on her a lot throughout the night,” Clarence says.
“They always did,” Sarah adds. “They were great parents. Very attentive. Some parents . . . well, if something happens to their child you might think . . . you know, that it was inevitable, but with parents like them . . . it’s so unfair. Anyway, mind if we do this another time? We need to get everyone fed and get the search started.”