Page 8 of Lost in the Never Woods

“No—not a tree branch, it was like…” Wendy thought about the strange black thing she had seen. It hadn’t been solid enough to be a branch. It was murky and whatever it was made of swirled and shifted, like if you tried to touch it, it would just slip through your fingers.

But how on earth could she describe that to the police? “It dented my hood and scratched my windshield.”

“Like a tree branch,” Smith insisted, shifting moodily.

Wendy lifted her chin and tried to sound firm. “No.” Of course he didn’t believe her. “I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t a branch.”

“The medics said there were no signs that the victim”—Wendy grimaced at the word—“was hit by a car,” Cecco continued. “And you said he talked to you. Did he say what had happened?”

“No.”

“You said he knew your name.” His voice went all soft again. “Do you know him?”

She opened her mouth to say no, but the word lodged in her throat. She hesitated.

Wendy’s eyes shifted to the nurse’s desk.

Nurse Judy was watching the two officers talk to Wendy, startled. Her face was splotchy red, and for a moment, Wendy thought she was going to stomp over and tell the officers off. Instead, she marched quickly in the direction of the break room.

Wendy’s grip around her legs tightened. Her breathing quickened. She hoped Smith and Cecco didn’t notice. “No.” But she didn’t sound nearly as confident as before. She couldn’t tell them that she thought she had almost run her truck over a boy she only knew from make-believe stories.

Wendy’s head gave a painful throb.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Smith’s cold gray eyes narrowed. “How did he end up in the middle of the street?” he asked. “Did he come from the logging roads?”

Wendy finally looked directly at the faces of the two officers. She smiled, squinting her eyes. “Maybe he fell out of the sky?”

Smith’s lips pressed into a hard line, the muscle in his jaw clenching. It gave Wendy a small feeling of satisfaction. Cecco uselessly rubbed at the back of his neck. After cutting Smith a nervous glance, he pinned his attention back to Wendy. “How does he know your—?”

“What’s going on here?” The voice was quiet but stern.

“Mom,” Wendy breathed.

Her mother appeared, standing between the two officers.

Mary Darling was in a pair of faded blue scrubs, her light brown hair done up in a messy bun. Her hands were at her sides, fidgeting, as her sharp brown eyes looked back and forth between the officers. The stern authority she’d once had was belied by sagging shoulders and dark circles under her eyes.

Wendy stood up, pushing past Smith and Cecco to get to her mother’s side.

“Are you all right?” Mrs. Darling asked, giving Wendy a sidelong glance. “What happened? Your father—?”

“No, I’m fine,” Wendy said quickly. Her mom could sort this all out, she could make sense of all this. “There was this boy—”

“Mrs. Darling, we need to talk to your daughter,” Smith cut in.

“And why is that, Officer Smith?”

He took off his hat, clearly ready to launch into an explanation.

“Wendy!”

Everyone turned. The blue drapes around the boy’s bed rustled. Nurses ran behind the curtains.

“WENDY!”