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I shrug. I have no idea.
He’s frowning—I can feel it. And I know what he’s wondering—was I planning to come in here alone, without even a way to call for help? Without even a light?
If it wasn’t for his phone, we’d have nothing but the stars twinkling overhead to rely on. If the moon’s out there somewhere, it’s hidden from us.
Along the tops of the hedges, several feet above us, there are what look to be fairy lights strung up. But they’re not on, telling me we shouldn’t even be in here in the first place.
And yet?—
That’s exactly what I was going to do.
Something tells me Mason suspects as much. Perhaps that’s why he lets the subject drop. He’s here, and he has his phone, so it doesn’t really matter anymore what I had planned. Or even why…
“Look,” I breathe, snapping out of my thoughts.
Mason follows to where I point, hope momentarily overtaking both of us.
“I think this is it.” My steps quicken to a jog to where the narrow path leads to what looks like a fountain, one devoid of any running water.
I hear Mason jogging after me, and when I rock to a sudden stop around the corner, he bumps into me. Frozen, we stare into the expansive garden spread out before us.
Slowly, Mason brushes past me, stepping deeper into the garden, head swinging every which way as he takes everything in.
The orange and white flowers bathed in gray shadows.
The gazebo, white and specter-like, haloed by low-hanging trees.
The cobbled pathways between meticulously shaped hedges.
In the distance, I can just make out the sound of waves crashing along the beach.
Is this what she heard?
Was she here?
Did she even make it this far before….
Before…
Mason and I are both quiet as we start looking around, an unspoken understanding hanging over the garden that we don’t leave until we’ve scoured every inch.
The search parties, the police…
They had to have missed something.
Neither of us will accept anything else.
People don’t just…disappear without a trace. Sure, there’s the broken heel, and whoever’s blood they found near the entrance. But it’s not enough. There has to be more. Something they missed.
It has to be why I felt called out here—why I felt such a dire need to retrace her steps.
Maybe she didn’t get taken at all, I tell myself.
Maybe she did run away, for whatever reason. Maybe she left a note.
And while, initially, the thought of her doing something so selfish and impulsive and crazy was out of the question—offensive even, for the police to even propose…
Now I can’t help but hope that’s exactly what happened.
