Page 53 of Lost in the Never Woods

Wendy jumped into the shower to wash the sticky, stale sweat off her skin. Drying her hair would take too long, so cold drips hit the back of her neck as she rushed around her room. She pulled on a pair of green shorts and a navy tank top before sliding on her tennis shoes. Grabbing her bag, she bounded down the stairs and nearly tripped on her laces.

Wendy was halfway across the living room when her father’s voice rang out. “Where are you off to in such a rush?”

She whirled around to find her father standing in the doorway of his study. He wore a dark blue suit that was a little too tight across his barrel chest. He had somehow managed to wrangle his hair with gel into an uneven comb-over. Even his bushy mustache was trimmed.

Wendy frowned. He never dressed this nice for work. And why was he home in the middle of a weekday?

“Why aren’t you at work?” Wendy asked, momentarily distracted from her mission by his odd appearance.

“I’m not at work because I need to take you down to the police station, remember?” Mr. Darling grumbled as he hooked a sausage-like finger over the knot of his tie, trying to wiggle it loose. “I’m taking a half day to deal with this.”

“What?” Wendy said, starting. Her mind went into a panic with visions of handcuffs and mugshots and dark interrogation rooms.

Mr. Darling furrowed his thick eyebrows. “Those detectives still want to talk to you.”

“Oh, right.” A wave of relief washed over her. Wendy rocked onto the balls of her feet so she could read the clock next to the TV: 11:54 a.m. She was supposed to meet Peter any minute now, and she had so much to tell him. “Can we go a bit later?” Wendy tried, wincing in anticipation of his answer.

Mr. Darling scowled. “No, we can’t go later,” he barked, waving his hand in the air. “Where do you have to get to that’s so important?”

“Nowhere,” Wendy answered quickly, smoothing her hands through her wet hair. “I just made plans to meet up with Jordan at the hospital, you know, after her shift.” Another lie. The more she told, the easier it got.

“This is more important,” he told her. He waved his hand dismissively. “Text her and tell her you’re going to be late. I can drop you off at the hospital after.” Mr. Darling snatched his keys from the kitchen table and started for the door. “Let’s go.”

Wendy gave a nod and pulled out her phone, pretending to text Jordan as she followed him out the door. She’d lied herself into a corner. She wanted to see Peter, and she especially didn’t want to leave him waiting for her, but what choice did she have? This wasn’t really something she could talk her way out of.

In the car, Wendy tried to look for Peter as they drove down the street, but there was no sign of him. How was she going to find him when she got back? She’d have to wait at the hospital until her mom got off work to get a ride home. It wasn’t like he had a cell phone she could call him on, and there was no way she was going to just wander around the woods calling his name.

But for now she had more pressing matters to deal with. Like what Detective James wanted to ask her. Were they going to accuse her of having something to do with Alex’s disappearance? Was she a suspect? Was Peter?

Her mind grew frantic. She tried to distract herself by focusing on the quiet rhythm of music flowing out of the speakers. Her dad only ever listened to classic rock.

The police station was located on a main road that paralleled the shore. The ocean funneled into a large bay that eventually turned into the Columbia River. With her window rolled down, the ocean breeze felt cool in the heat of the midday sun. The air smelled like salt water. Large ships laden with crates trudged along, and behind them she could make out the blue mountains of Washington across the river.

Her father didn’t say anything, so Wendy didn’t, either. The awkward silence stretched on until they pulled up to the old brick building.

“Let’s go,” Mr. Darling said, trying to loosen his tie again as he got out of the car. Wendy followed.

As they walked into the lobby, Wendy tried to shrink behind her father. She shivered and fidgeted with the strap of her bag. She didn’t like being back here. It felt like walking into a cemetery crowded with ghosts.

The police department was all but devoid of color. Everyone was either wearing gray or black suits, or else they were dressed in police uniforms. Desks were placed in rows and detectives and officers walked around, speaking to one another, talking on the phone and handing off documents. Usually, the police didn’t have much to worry about in their small town, but the string of missing kids appeared to be keeping everyone busy.

Wendy stood in the middle of the lobby, arms wrapped around her middle as her father went to ask for Detective James. On the wall behind the front desk was a bulletin board. Tacked to it were the missing posters of Benjamin Lane, Ashley Ford, and now Alex Forestay. There was also the poorly done police sketch of Peter.

Quickly, Wendy cut her gaze away. She tried to avoid making eye contact, but she’d already spotted Officer Smith. When he saw Wendy, he stopped talking to a female officer. He stared at her for a moment before nudging his fellow officer’s arm and nodding in her direction. Wendy stared at the floor. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger.

“Ah, Mr. Darling, Wendy.” Detective James rounded a corner and approached them. He looked exactly the same as he had in her living room, in a perfectly pressed suit with his black hair parted to the side and a forced smile on his face. He held a thick file under his arm. Wendy noticed a silver ring on his middle finger. “Thanks for coming in. This shouldn’t take long,” he said.

Mr. Darling grunted in response.

Wendy kept quiet, but Detective James turned to her. “Wendy, if you’d follow me, we’ll head back to my office.” Wendy nodded and began to walk, but when Mr. Darling started to follow close behind, Detective James held out a hand. “Sorry, Mr. Darling, you’ll need to wait here until we’re finished.”

Wendy wasn’t used to people telling her dad what to do. Her eyes cut back and forth between the two.

Clearly Mr. Darling wasn’t used to it, either, because he puffed out his chest.

“She’s my daughter—you can’t talk to her without me being there,” Mr. Darling all but growled. Now even more people were starting to watch. Mr. Darling was very big compared to Detective James. An angry bear lumbering in front of a guy in a fancy suit.

To his credit, Detective James remained placid and unaffected by this show. “Actually, as of four days ago, Wendy is no longer a minor, so I need to speak with her alone,” he said plainly.