Page 73 of Wildwood

For a while there was nothing. No chat bubbles. I would have thought she was gone were it not for the green “active” circle by her name.

Please, I added. It’s important.

Finally, the three bubbles.

They thought a neighbor, one of the Brooks, took you.

Now, sitting at the kitchen table, I tap into Facebook again. I scan the conversation between me and Anna. Of course the adults thought it was Madeline. The description would have fit her perfectly. Certain things make sense now. Why we left and never came back. Why my grandmother wrote that letter to Ezra. I still don’t know what the Brooks were hiding, but it’s clear my family saw them as a threat, willing to endanger a child’s life.

But while I can’t explain it rationally, I don’t think it was Madeline who led me out of the house that night. The memory, while hazy, doesn’t fill me with dread. It never filled me with dread. So I don’t think it was Madeline. I think it was Lydia.

It feels as though there is an hourglass hovering beside my head. I am running out of time to figure this out. Frustrated, I pour myself a glass of water, and slowly walk through the house. I need to stay focused. The answers are here, I know it. I just need to keep digging. I wander into the parlor, hear the familiar creak of the floorboards. The nail has risen up. I touch it lightly with my toe. I’ll nail it down later.

When I wander into the library, I notice that the red light on the base of the phone is flashing. There’s an unheard voicemail. I have no idea when it came in. We aren’t great at checking the messages.

I click the play button and a man’s voice comes on.

“Hello, Ms. Leighton. Mike here at ProTek surveillance. Returning your call about accessing your account. Please give us a call back, extension nine and I’ll be happy to help you.”

Another beep and the message ends.

I pick up the phone and dial back. Mike answers. His voice is warm and enthusiastic and seems out of place coming through the phone into this cold, bleak house.

“Hi, Mike, this is Elinor Leighton returning your call.”

He tells me how he’s been trying to get a hold of me, that he remembers Wildwood well.

“Sorry, I think there’s some confusion,” I say. “We don’t currently have an outside security system, but we want to install one.”

“Huh,” says Mike. “That’s odd, let me recheck the notes. I could have sworn we already have an account for that address.” He’s talking more to himself now.

My mind’s beginning to wander and I’ve almost forgotten who I’m on the phone with when Mike comes back on the line.

“Yeah, Elinor, you’ve already got quite a setup at that house. Ezra Bishop installed about ten cameras around the property. I have a note that he called back in June about canceling the account, but he couldn’t remember his passcode to do that, so he was supposed to call back, but never did. So, if you want to access the existing account, that’s easy to do. We’d just need to get some information to verify you are the current, legal tenant and then we can get you set up with the app.”

I’m staring out the library window, out into the back field. I remember an evening—when I’m not sure, as time has all started to run together like watercolor—that the sun was sinking into the trees, and a glint of light had caught my eye.

I tell Mike that I want to access the account, and that I’ll call him back with the right documentation.

When I hang up, I realize that my left hand is clenched, and my nails are digging into my palm.

Ezra called to cancel the service in June. But he had died in May.

Chapter 65

Topher sits on the bed in The Forest of the Dead watching me pack. We both leave today. I’ll take one car down to see Mia. Topher will take the other car to Logan Airport. He packed last night, his small suitcase ready by the door.

I do it slowly and methodically, trying to look like I am at ease. I carefully fold up pairs of underwear, avoiding the black slip that the keys are hidden in. It seems Topher didn’t notice that when he raided my drawer. I pack leggings, pajamas, toothpaste, a little makeup. I toss in a book. My phone charger. All the while, we are surrounded by the painted trees.

“I think I’m all set,” I say, looking up at him and smiling.

“Great,” he says. “Should you text Mia to check in?”

I force the smile to stay on my face.

“Sure,” I say, picking up my phone.

I type out a message to Mia.