Page 13 of Lost in the Never Woods

Run away. Disappeared. Lost.

Wendy found herself dismayed, almost panicked at this information. But a part of her, a very cowardly part, was relieved.

“Had he been kidnapped? Was that why he was in the middle of the road? Are we sure someone didn’t take him from the hospital?” Wendy asked, the words spilling from her lips. Various horrifying scenarios cycled through her head.

“No, no, nothing like that,” her mother said gently. “The strange part is no one saw anyone go in or out. They even checked the surveillance tapes, but there was nothing. It’s like he just vanished.” She frowned at her cup.

That was odd. The hospital didn’t have the most high-tech setup, but at least one of the cameras should’ve showed him leaving. “Did—did he say anything?” Wendy ventured, bracing herself for the answer.

“He woke up a couple of hours after he got the sedative,” her mom explained as she squeezed another wedge of lemon into her mug. “I never saw him, but the other nurses kept saying he was talking gibberish, maybe an aftereffect of the sedative … He kept talking about a shadow?” She frowned in a way that made her look much older than she was. “I don’t know. Maybe he was just lost in the logging roads and dehydrated, delirious … They had a social worker there but she couldn’t get anything clearer out of him, either.”

She was quiet for a moment before she finally looked up at Wendy. Those keen brown eyes bore into Wendy’s with inquisitive intensity. “He also kept asking for you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she said, because it didn’t. Wendy crossed her arms, uncrossed them, and then crossed them again.

Mrs. Darling ran the tip of her finger over her bottom lip as she watched Wendy for a quiet moment. “Do you know him?” she finally asked.

“No, of course not!” she said, a little too forcefully. Frustration started to crawl under her skin. This mystery boy was making it look like they knew each other when they didn’t, but more importantly, he was making her look like a liar. Now she even felt like a liar, like she was hiding something, but how could she when she’d never seen him before?

And no, her imagination of what a make-believe boy could maybe look like did not count!

“He’s some random kid that came out of the woods, how would I know him?” Wendy insisted, desperation starting to claw up her throat. She didn’t need her mom, of all people, to doubt her, too.

“How—”

Knock. Knock.

Wendy jumped and they both turned to the front door.

Mrs. Darling frowned but rose from the table and answered the door. Standing on the porch were a man and a woman, both dressed in suits and ties.

“Mary Darling?” The man spoke first as he dug in the pocket of his jacket. He was tall and broad shouldered.

Mrs. Darling’s fingers flexed on the doorknob. Wendy slipped into a seat at the table, leaning over to peer around her mom. “I told the officers we would be at the police station later. I need to—”

“I’m Detective James, and this is my partner, Detective Rowan,” the man said. Wendy tensed. He held out a badge, as did the woman behind him. Her black hair was shaved to a shadow, revealing every inch of her angular face: sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, and deep brown skin. She looked past Mrs. Darling to Wendy, her expression unchanging.

“Detective?” Mrs. Darling repeated, sounding confused.

“Yes, ma’am. We’re with the Clatsop County sheriff’s office. Do you mind if we come in?” His hazel eyes cut to Wendy. “We have some questions for your daughter.”

Wendy mentally urged her mother to just say no and turn them away. She could tell her mother didn’t want to let them in, but did you have much choice with detectives?

To Wendy’s dismay, her mother stepped aside and let them in. Mrs. Darling walked over to Wendy and stood next to her, arms crossed over her chest.

“Wendy?” asked Detective James.

She didn’t know why he was asking when he obviously knew.

“Yes.” Sitting there, Wendy suddenly felt very small. Detective Rowan stood with her hands clasped in front of her while Detective James went into his pocket again and pulled out a notepad and pen.

“We just have a few questions for you and then we’ll be out of your hair.” He smiled at her, but it was the fake kind that didn’t wrinkle the skin around his eyes. His hair was dark and he had stubble and a scar running through his left eyebrow. Wendy wondered how he’d gotten it.

“Right.” She knew it was never as simple as that.

“We already got the paramedic and police report,” he said, flipping through at least five pages of notes. “So we don’t need to go over that again. However, what we do need to know is if you knew the boy, Peter?”

So much for no repetitive questions.