Page 107 of Lost in the Never Woods

Wendy shrugged. “It’s dark in the middle of the woods at night. I couldn’t keep track of him.” She’d heard Benjamin, Ashley, Joel, and Matthew give a similar story. Alex had only given nods and shakes of his head. They couldn’t see their kidnapper properly. Joel said they’d been forced to wear blindfolds, to which the others quickly agreed. It was a flawed explanation, but the Astoria police officers seemed too relieved that the children had all been found safe and sound to start poking holes in their stories yet.

Except for Detective James.

He clicked his pen. “How did you get so banged up?”

“Running through the woods,” Wendy told him, wincing as Dallas moved to a cut on her temple. “I fell a few times. It was dark, and I was scared.”

Detective James observed her. Wendy sat there, staring back, afraid to move or blink under his watchful gaze.

“Wendy!” Her father’s voice boomed in the distance, echoing off the trees. She started so hard, she nearly fell off the back of the ambulance. “Where’s my daughter?”

Wendy jumped down. “Dad?” she called, trying to look between the people standing around, squinting in the bright headlights of the cars.

Mr. Darling came barreling into view, pushing people out of his way. “Wendy!” Mr. Darling took her by the shoulders, practically lifting her off the ground. Dallas quickly moved out of the way. “Are you all right?” he demanded, his wide eyes showing the whites as he looked her over. His hands clasped the sides of her head, her arms, her hands, taking inventory. “Are you hurt? What happened?” He stood over her protectively and everyone backed up to give them space.

“Dad, it’s okay, I’m fine,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze.

In her father’s wake, Wendy saw Donald Davies jog up, looking pale and frazzled. His eyes darted around to all the cops and detectives.

Instinctively, Wendy shrank closer to her father.

Detective Rowan’s attention swept to Wendy. She looked at Wendy, then over to Mr. Davies before her gaze settled back on Wendy. Almost imperceptibly, Detective Rowan shifted closer. Her hand moved to rest casually on her duty belt.

“Where’s Matthew and Joel?” Mr. Davies asked, sweat glistening on his forehead.

“They’re with your wife en route to the hospital,” Detective James told him.

“I came as soon as they called me,” Mr. Darling said. “We were on the other side of the woods, looking for the kids—but you found them?” His words spilled over one another. “I told you to stay inside when your mother and I weren’t home!” he barked angrily, but Wendy could feel the way his hands trembled.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Wendy said.

“Mr. Darling.” Detective James stepped forward. “We—”

“I know where John and Michael are, Dad,” Wendy said quietly. All eyes swung to her.

Her father froze, and she rushed on before he could get his hopes too high.

“They’re buried under the big tree in the clearing,” Wendy told him. Maybe if she said it softly, it would hurt a little less.

Mr. Darling’s hands dropped to his sides. He stumbled back a step as if she had slapped him. His breaths sawed in and out.

She glanced at Detectives James. “I remembered,” she told him, “when I saw the tree.”

Detective James cut a look at Detective Rowan. Immediately, she called over two CSI agents and murmured an order. They headed for the clearing, but Detective Rowan stayed where she was.

Wendy’s words hung in the air for a moment. Everyone was quiet.

Mr. Darling was rattled, but not surprised. Maybe he already knew and had just been waiting five years for someone to confirm it. He opened his eyes again.

Mr. Darling turned to Detective James. His face tried to pinch into the angry expression Wendy had grown to know well, but his chin wobbled and his eyes glistened. “What happened to them? Who did it? Was it the man who took the other kids?” he demanded, his voice thick.

“It was Mr. Davies.”

All the eyes that had been glued to Wendy swung over to Mr. Davies.

Wendy braced herself, expecting him to immediately deny it, to argue and push back. Maybe he would even start shouting about his innocence.

Instead, Mr. Davies took on a sickly pallor. His eyes fell to the ground. He bent forward and buried his face in his hands.