Page 62 of Wildwood

And then I hear a noise on the street up ahead and see the dark shape of a figure. I start to run, ignoring the pounding in my toe. My flashlight bounces and as the light pans across the street, I realize that it’s not Hugo who is in front of me. It’s a tall figure, hooded with dark gaping holes where the eyes should be. I drop the flashlight and scream.

Chapter 54

“Elinor! Jesus, Elinor, are you okay??”

I recognize the low voice. A small beam of light shines in my eyes and through it, I can make out Alice’s broad face. She’s wearing a rain jacket and is holding her hands out in front of her as though calming a wild animal.

I realize I’ve staggered back several steps and look, probably, like I’m about to bolt. It was Alice. Just Alice.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, as though she is the one who must explain herself and not the other way around.

“I was outside tending to the goats and heard shouting. I came down the road to see what was going on and then I saw your flashlight. You shined it on me and . . .” She almost looks amused. “And you shrieked like a banshee.”

“Hugo took off. My dog.” I take her hand and stand up. Her grip is rough and firm, much as I’d expect.

“The German shepherd?”

“Yes. You didn’t see him, did you?”

“No. Sorry. Where’d he run?”

“Into the woods. He was barking like crazy. He must have seen something.” I feel the worry rising in me again. “There’re bears in the woods, right?”

“Yeah, but they don’t usually attack dogs. They’d sooner run.”

“Damn. I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s not much you can do now,” she says. “You should go home. Leave the lights on. Odds are he’ll show up on his own, pretending like nothing’s happened.”

I nod, looking around uncertainly.

“Want me to walk you home?”

I almost say yes, but something holds me back. “No, it’s okay. I have the flashlight.”

She looks at me, expressionless, for a moment. The flashlight casts unnatural light on her face, and I’m reminded of telling ghost stories around a campfire. “Okay then. Take care of yourself. Stay on the road.”

And with that she turns and walks into the darkness, her tiny flashlight tucked unused into her coat pocket. From behind, I can tell that she walks lurching forward, arms hardly moving by her sides. What was she doing outside at this hour? What would the goats need after dark?

I turn and head back toward my house. The gravel crunches under my feet, the trees glowing eerily in my periphery. Shadows seem to dance and jump, stretch and contract, and my gait quickens from a walk, to a jog, to a run. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I could swear I hear footsteps behind me. A soft yet persistent thud thud. I turn once, praying to see Hugo, but the dirt road is an empty tunnel.

I don’t stop until I get to my house, slam the front door, and arm the security system. It’s not until I hear the double beep that I exhale and realize I’d been holding my breath nearly the entire sprint back.

Chapter 55

The morning fog snakes through the meadow, blanketing everything in gray. The air is quite cold at this early hour. It’s not even seven. I’ve pulled a flannel hoodie on over my pajamas and am walking back and forth through the meadow, calling Hugo’s name. The grass has frozen overnight and each blade cracks under my boots. I left a bowl of food for him on the deck last night, but when I checked this morning, the food was untouched, and half frozen.

“Hugo!” My breath clouds in front of me. He doesn’t come. He’s never done something like this before. Later, I’ll drive up and down the streets. I have to find him. I literally cannot imagine losing him. I bite my upper lip to stifle a sob. But then I let out a howl instead and kick at the ground.

The screams echo across the meadow. Breathing hard, I stand for a moment, looking up at the three Brook houses, staring down on me.

I don’t want to do it. But I have to, for Hugo.

I wait until nine, and then I huff it up Madeline’s curving drive. I pound on the door, not caring that it’s early.

Madeline answers, wearing a long black sweater, her red hair, curling and piled up on her head. I hate that I notice her clothes, at a time like this. That I notice they are beautiful and expensive and effortless. The fucking Queen of Cashmere.

“Elinor!” She sounds surprised when she opens the door. “So good to see you. Is everything okay?”