by A J Rivers
The little girl walked around the edge of the rack, examining the small collection of remaining boats. She chose a purple one, its paint sun-bleached and fading, and he dutifully took it down for her. They each put on life vests and Violet climbed into the boat before they pushed it off the shore.
Travis and Carrie laughed together as they climbed in and leaned across for a kiss. The sun shone down on them, warming skin just beaded with water from the lake. Travis paddled slowly out into the quiet water, then let the gentle current take over. As they floated in the dark water near the center of the lake, he noticed Carrie staring toward land.
"What are you looking at?" he asked.
She nodded her head in the direction she was staring. "That woman."
He followed her gaze and saw a woman sitting on the rocky shore, her feet just barely in the edge of the water. She had a plastic shovel in one hand and was methodically scooping up the pebbly sand beside her and letting it stream back down. Occasionally she looked up and glanced around. A couple of yards away, a group of little children ran around in some game only they knew the rules to. Further up on the beach, a couple of teenagers tried to balance wanting to look adult with their compulsion to play in the water.
The woman's long blue sundress stood out against the muted colors around her. It only emphasized the empty space on the ground. Surrounded by families and groups of friends, she was alone. Travis looked at the others who were gathering close to the edge of the lake, then nodded toward the other shore.
"Look."
A man sat on the other side of the water, wearing the same shade of blue, surrounded by the same empty, muted ground. Like Carrie’s and Travis's walk along the path toward the lake, it looked like a set moment just waiting to happen.
Sixteen years ago …
* * *
The knock on the cabin door was cautious, but before Adrian could take even three steps toward it, it came again. By the time he reached the door and released the latch, the person on the other side had knocked three times. That couldn't be good.
One set of knocks was a neighbor needing some sugar.
Two was a pissed-off wife looking for her husband.
Three was desperation.
The eyes of the woman at the door told Adrian he was right. They were wide, and a slight sheen of tears had started to form over them. But she was choking it back in that way that people do when they know if one tear falls, there will be no stopping a flood of others.
"Hi," she said in a shaking voice. More knocking was audible somewhere behind her. "My name’s Carrie. Have you seen a little girl? Brown curls. Pink shorts, and a white top with a flower on the front. She's four years old."
"I'm sorry. I just got here this morning. I haven't even left the cabin. I'm still unpacking," Adrian said. "Is everything all right?"
"My daughter is missing. Her name is Violet. I was rinsing out our bathing suits after swimming this morning while my partner was getting things ready for lunch. We both thought the other one had her. But when we met out at the picnic table right in front of our cabin, Violet wasn't there," Carrie said. "We haven't seen her since. Are you sure you haven't seen her?"
Adrian shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. Which cabin are you in?"
Carrie pointed away from Adrian's cabin. "Up on the hill. The one with the green porch light. I've stayed at that same cabin for years. I always felt safe there. I told my daughter to look for the green porch light. If anything happened and she got lost, to find the green porch light. She's so little. What happens when it gets dark?"
"Carrie!"
A man shouting from down the pathway made Carrie run down the steps and toward him. Adrian watched after her for a second, then went back into the cabin to put on his shoes.
On the pathway, Carrie caught up to Travis. His hands reached for her, latching onto hers before she even stopped.
"What did they say?” Carrie asked.
Travis shook his head. "Nobody has seen her."
"What do we do?" Carrie asked. "What do we do?"
"Have you called the police?" Adrian asked, coming down the path from the cabin.
And with those words, everything melted into chaos.
"I'm Detective Fitzgerald. Tell me what happened, Carrie."
"We need to be looking for her. We need to look for Violet."
"In order to search, we need to know what happened, so we know where to start looking."
"In the woods. Start looking in the woods!"
"This is a very big park, Carrie. We can't send people over every inch of it right now. It's important to focus on the area where she is most likely to be so we can find her. Now, tell me what happened."
"We were getting ready for lunch. She was supposed to be with Travis while I rinsed out the bathing suits, but when I went outside with him, she wasn't there."
"What did he say?"
"That Violet was supposed to be with me. That she was in the house when he went outside."
"Was she?"
"No. I just told you, she was with him."
"You said she was supposed to be with him."
"What does that mean? What are you saying?"
"I'm not saying anything, Carrie. I just need to know what's going on."
"Stop saying my name. You're trying to manipulate me. What you need to do is get out there and find my daughter. She's tiny and alone."
"Travis, I'm Detective Fitzgerald. I've just spoken with Carrie."
"Where is she?"
"She's with another officer right now, going through the cabin."
"Why? Violet isn't in the cabin. You're supposed to be looking for her."
"There are people searching the area, but we need to find out exactly what happened. If we can figure out her movements, it will be easier to narrow down a search area. Every minute is important."
"I know that."
"Then why don't you tell me where you last saw Violet?"
"She was in the cabin. Carrie was in the bathroom. The water in the bathtub was running, so she probably didn't hear me tell her I was going outside. Violet was sitting on the floor with one of her dolls."
"And you were right outside?"
"Yes. Getting things ready for lunch."
"And the cabin only has the front door?"
"Are you asking me if my four-year-old daughter walked out of the cabin right in front of me without my noticing?"
"I'm asking if there are other ways she could have gotten out."
"What did Carrie say?"
"I'm interested in what you have to say."
"What I have to say is whatever it will take to make you leave me alone so I can go look for my child."
"And your name is?"
"Adrian Slatton."
"Adrian, my name is Detective Fitzgerald. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"Not at all. Go ahead."
"What do you know about what's going on?"
"I know a little girl is missing."
"How do you know that?"
"Her mother showed up at the cabin where I'm staying. She asked if I saw a little girl and told me she was missing."
"Had you seen her?"
"No. Like I told the mother, I just got here this morning. I've been getting everything in the cabin fixed up and settling in. I hadn't even gone outside since getting all my gear in."
"And did you see the family when you arrived this morning?"
"No. I got kind of a late start leaving home and when I got here, I was concentrating on getting everything inside. I didn't really look around."
"What was the rush?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're coming out to a campground. It's supposed to be a relaxing vacation. Why were you in such a rush to get settled in?"
"It's not a relaxing vacation. Not completely. I'm here for work."
"Work? What do you do?"
"I'm a photojournalist. I'm here doing research. I have a meeting scheduled with a local amateur historian
to learn more about the lore of the area, and we need daylight to look around."
"Well, with everything that's going on, you'll need to stick close to your cabin rather than going out into the woods."
"Of course. I've already called and canceled."
"I appreciate your cooperation."
"What did you find?"
"I need you to stay calm, Travis."
"Don't tell me to stay calm. This is my daughter. Tell me what you found."
"It might not be anything. It's a single shoe. That's it."
"That's it?"
"Yes. It's not damaged. There's no blood."
"Blood?"
"Please, calm down. There is no blood. The shoe looks to be in fine condition. Like a child was wearing it while playing and it came off. I need to know if it belongs to Violet."
"I don't know."
"You don't know if these are the shoes she was wearing?"
"I said I don't know. Where did they find it?"
"In the woods. It was sitting on a log."
"No. That's not Violet's shoe."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Don't you think I know what my own child was wearing?"
"Carrie, I am only being thorough. This shoe was found only a few yards from your cabin and Travis couldn't be sure if it was hers or not."
"That doesn't surprise me."
"Why is that?"
"Where is my daughter, Detective?"
"We're looking."
"I'm going to look, too."
"No. You need to stay at the cabin."
"Why? I should be looking for my child."
"You need to stay there in case she finds her way back. You don't want her to show up to an empty cabin. Oh. One more question. Did you hear anything unusual before you realized she was missing? Voices? A car? Anything?"
"Don't you think I would have mentioned that?"
"Sometimes details don't stand out until you think about them later."
"No. I didn't hear anything."
"Can I talk to you again for a second?"
"What can I do for you, Adrian?"
"I thought of something that might matter. I don't know if it actually means anything, but I thought I would mention it."
"A lot of times people don't think anything of something, but it turns out to be exactly what we needed. If you think I should know about it, go ahead and tell me."
"Alright. I told you I hadn't left the cabin since getting the last load of luggage inside, but I realized that wasn't exactly true. After the last load, I realized I'd brought my trash bag from the car inside, so I brought it out to the trash can behind the cabin. When I was back there, I heard a scream that sounded like a little girl’s. It was just a short scream. Not like constant or anything. And I didn't really think much of it because I figured there were probably kids running around in the woods or playing at the lake."
"Can you show me where the trash cans are?"
"Sure."
"Where was the scream coming from?"
"I couldn't really tell. Everything seems to echo around here."
"But it was loud? A distinct scream?"
"Yes."
"I wonder why she didn't hear it."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh… the mother. Carrie. She said she didn't hear anything unusual."
"You know, she was a little strange when I talked to her."
"How do you mean?"
"She came to my cabin to ask if I'd seen the little girl. When I told her I hadn't, she described everything that was happening. That she was rinsing bathing suits and that her partner was getting things ready for lunch. She even pointed out the cabin they're staying in, and that there are green lights on the front and she always told the little girl to look for the green lights if she got lost. That just struck me as really odd."
"Why?"
"Because if my daughter was missing, I wouldn't be taking the time to rattle off all those details to a stranger. I'd be looking for my kid."
Detective Fitzgerald
* * *
Two months later…
* * *
He thought he was familiar with the area around the campground by that point. Since that first day nearly nine weeks before, when he was first called out to investigate the little girl who went missing, Ray had been out in those woods every day. Some of those days he was there when the sun came up and only left when it got too dark to see. Others, he brought a flashlight.
He wasn't going to give up. There was a team assigned to continuing and broadening the search for Violet Montgomery. As soon as the first several hours had passed without any sign of her, and they knew she wasn't just going to be found walking along one of the tree-lined hiking trails, he’d mobilized a task force dedicated to scouring the area and finding that little girl.
Ray knew it wasn't going to end well. He felt it in his gut. That was why he never left the team. He knew they would do their jobs. They would work hard and search the thick forests and dark, long-abandoned trails that cut through the national park. They would do everything they could.
But this was his responsibility. It was sitting on his shoulders. Late in the evening of the day she went missing, Carrie Montgomery had shown him a picture of Violet. It was just a candid Polaroid image snapped that morning while she played, but it was enough to connect him to the tiny girl who seemed to have vanished while camping with her family.
The picture caught her in mid-laugh, the sun glowing in her bright blue eyes. Those eyes never left Ray's mind. Her little mouth was tinged blue by the ice pop she was eating. It stood out to him, a reminder of what it really was to be a carefree child. The sweetness of an ice pop cold on her lips, bringing down the temperature of a morning spent swimming and playing. What felt like an endless stretch of life packed into the hours before lunch.
When they’d first seen that picture, he’d hoped there would be many more for Violet. Many more good mornings getting the first hint of summer sunburn on the tips of her shoulders. Many more ice pops right after breakfast. Many more laughs. He wanted to be the one to find her so she could have those again.
But as the hours ticked further into the night, the imagined images he carried in his mind faded away. He didn't want them to. He struggled to hold on to them, to keep them where they were. If he could keep envisioning her getting back to her family and continuing the trip, it could happen.
He couldn't stop thinking that way. If he stopped, he was giving up on her. He wouldn't let that happen.
That moment of laughter brought him into the woods every day. The campground sat in the middle of a sprawling park made up of broken, age-weathered mountains and stretches of trees so thick their shadows hadn't fallen on a human face in more than a century.
For those willing to venture deep enough and look hard enough into the thick shade and plant-tangled ground, there were the signs of those who had walked that way before. Not the hikers and campers. Not the photographers looking for the perfect image, or the transients looking for a place to exit. Or even the wandering looking for themselves.
Beneath the footsteps of all of them were those of the people who’d called these mountains home generations ago. Brave, proud, industrious people who stayed strong in their homes and their way of life even as the world changed around them. Those who took the time to walk the mountains might find themselves stepping into the midst of those lives.
They never really ended. They just became part of the mountain again.
Ruins of homes became like the rocks scattered across the ground. Some were gone completely, leaving only stone steps leading to nothing. Walkways and paths, once foot-worn, were given back over to the forest. They could only barely be seen if a person knew exactly where to look.
Then there were the graves.
They appeared like the ruins. Like the stones and the pads. These weren't sweeping cemeteries contained within wrought iron or carefully manicured. There were no smooth marble markers with clear inscriptions.
Nothing separated the dead from the living. Some were together in small clusters: families who stayed together or generations who merely died together. Some were on their own, the houses that once would have stood by no longer visible. Markers made up of rough stone and slate, or even just large rocks, delineated these pieces of ground from all the others.
But so many of the names were no longer visible. The outlines of the graves had blended into everything around them. As unsettling as it could be for some to turn a corner or walk over a ridge and come up on one of the graves, it was very easy to get comfortable with them.
People saw the stones. They saw the dates if the numbers were still there to see. Maybe a name or even just a few letters. They knew the rough markers represented what had been there before, but it was easy to forget that beneath each stone lay a body. That they weren't just walking in the footsteps of the dead, but trodding directly over them.
For many who came to these woods to hike the trails and camp among the trees, it never occurred to them to think that, when they spread their sleeping bags on the ground at night, they could be lying just feet above where someone else rested. So close they could reach their hands down and take hold of the ones beneath them.
Not this burial place, though.
This one would never be that way.
"What do you have?"
He crossed long, adamant strides to the tape cutting through the trees with. The yellow barrier was garish against the lush summer flourish of the woods. It stood out even more under the cloud cover that only worked to highlight the harsh color.
"A backcountry camper came out here to spend the night. Apparently, he heard there was a small cavern up this way. Because of the rain coming, he was hoping to find some shelter. When he came up here, he thought he saw the cavern in that rock outcropping, so he went into it. That's where he found it."
The detective didn't stop plodding through the woods, forcing the younger officer to fall into step beside him and follow as he made his way to the yellow tape. He grabbed onto the tape, pushing away with such force that he almost ripped it down from the tree. He knew what he was going to find in the cavern. He didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to see it. And at the same time, he couldn't keep himself away.
