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This is all my fault.
“Viktor Solokov’s alibi is solid.” The voice ringing out into the hotel suite is new. A man in a suit appears, flipping open his badge, just like in the movies, making this feel all the more ridiculous. “Detective Morris with the Violent Crimes Against Children unit, FBI. I’ve been assigned lead investigator to this case.”
My dad stands up and shakes the man’s hand. “So he’s been looked into?”
Morris meets his gaze, then my mom’s, and then he finds me. “Everything he told us was consistent with your statement. He offered up his full cooperation—even his assistance where he could.”
I frown.
“Viktor is a very powerful man. He’s got contracts and connections with some of the best security firms out there, and has already put out feelers.”
My dad grunts at that. “Sure he isn’t just trying to cover his tracks?”
The detective looks down at the floor, clearly holding something back.
“He…he did admit to…to somewhat cornering your son in the bathroom.”
My dad spits out a curse, but the detective keeps going.
“He sends his apologies for scaring you.” His gaze lifts to mine, sincerity shining from their dark depths. “From what we’ve gathered from witnesses, other guests tonight who know Viktor…the man is a little odd— eccentric—but otherwise harmless.”
I stare at him.
“And according to numerous testimonies, he was exactly where he said he was. All night.”
Swallowing tightly, I duck my head, staring unseeingly at my sock-clad toes. I don’t remember taking my shoes off after having gone outside to help search. Where did I put them?
“It should also be noted that…well, your daughter’s not exactly someone who would be a target of his advances. If you know what I mean.” I feel him staring at me, and despite the implication of his words, I just feel hollow. “We have no reason to believe he had anything to do with this.”
The bed creaks as Dad sits back down. He says roughly, “So we’re back to square one.”
My eyes fall shut.
“Afraid so.”
“What about the cameras?”
“They show your daughter wandering into the maze. She doesn’t come out.”
Why, Izzy? What the fuck were you thinking?
“The search parties have combed every inch of that maze. The dogs… Other than the traces of blood we found, and the broken heel…there’s nothing.”
“And the blood? Who does it belong to?”
A beat passes, then— “We don’t know. It’s being sent to forensics to see if anything’s in the system. But it’s definitely not a match to your daughter.”
All four of us did a DNA test online a couple years ago, to see our heritage. Izzy’s in the system. Never in a million years did we think that would come in handy in a practical sense, such as this.
Detective Morris is speaking again, but a whooshing has taken up in my ears, drowning everything out but the sound of my own heart beating, sluggish, like it’s failing.
Like without my sister here—without knowing if she’s even alive—my body has started to shut down.
I’d feel it though, right? I’d feel it if she was…gone.
My eyes burn with unshed tears. I haven’t cried. Every time I think I might—every time the panic seems to flare—it’s immediately replaced with this odd icy tingling sensation all over my body, and I have to touch my hands or my neck or my cheeks to make sure everything’s still intact.
That I’m solid.
