by Harlan Coben
Wilde looked at him.
“Someone hurt her.” His eyes were wet now. “And I’m not talking about the usual bullying.”
“What are you talking about then?”
“Physically.”
The room went still.
“You better explain,” Wilde said.
It took him a little time to gather himself. Pine stared down at his hand. He had a school ring with a garnet stone. He started twisting it around his finger. “When I came home from work the day before she disappeared, Naomi had a frozen bag of peas on her right eye. It was black the next morning.”
“Did you ask her about it?”
“Of course.”
Wilde waited. Bernard Pine started biting hard on his thumbnail.
“She said she walked into a door.”
“Did you believe her?”
“Of course I didn’t believe her,” he snapped. “But that’s all she would say. You ever try to get a teenager to tell you something? You can’t force it out of them. She said she was fine and went up to her room.”
“Did you check up on her?”
“You don’t have kids, do you, Wilde?”
Wilde took that as a no.
“It’s all connected,” Pine said.
“What is?”
“That game of Challenge, those kids who were picking on her, the fact that she’s gone again. Something isn’t right.” He tilted his head and looked at Wilde as though seeing him for the first time. “Why were you so invested in my daughter?”
Wilde didn’t reply.
“Did you even know Naomi before that night?”
“No.”
“Yet you broke into my house to find her. A girl you didn’t even know. Why would you do that?”
That was when Bernard Pine pulled out a handgun.
Wilde didn’t hesitate. The moment he realized what was happening he was already on the move. No one with a gun expects that. Not at first. One of the two men in this room—Wilde—was highly trained in combat. The other wasn’t. Pine had made the mistake of standing too close. Wilde took a quick step toward him. With one hand, he snatched the gun. With the other, he formed a classic chop and delivered it without much force to Pine’s throat. If you throw that blow too hard, you do permanent damage. Wilde was just aiming for a choke, a gag reflex, a muscle release.
It did the trick.
Pine staggered back, one hand on his neck, the other waving in some sort of surrender. The weapon now in Wilde’s hand felt light. He popped the revolver’s chamber open and checked.
No bullets.
Pine had his voice back. “I was just trying to scare you.”
Idiot, Wilde thought. But he said nothing.
“You get it, right? You break into my house, you start some kind of relationship with my daughter—you, the weirdo who lives alone in the woods. I mean, if you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you wonder?”
“I don’t know where your daughter is.”
“So explain it to me then: Who got you involved in finding her during the Challenge game?”
Wilde wasn’t about to tell him. But when he stepped back and looked at it objectively, Pine did raise an interesting point. Matthew had never really explained it all, had he?
“Give me your phone,” Wilde said.
“What, why?”
Wilde just held out his hand. Pine handed it over. Wilde clicked the message button and found the text from Naomi saying Don’t worry, I’m safe. He skimmed up to see the rest of the conversation. He stopped.
“What?” Pine asked.
There were no other texts between the two of them—between father and daughter.
“What happened to the rest of the messages?”
“What?”
“I assume this wasn’t the first time you and Naomi texted.”
“No, of course not. Wait, what are you doing?”
Wilde checked the call history. Yes, there were phone calls to Naomi. But not many. The last had been more than a month ago.
“Where are the rest of the texts between you two?”
“What, I don’t know. They should be there.”
“They’re not.”
Pine shrugged. “Can someone delete them?”
Someone can. The user of the phone.
“Why would you get rid of your messages with your own daughter?”
“I didn’t. Maybe Naomi cleared them out.”
Not likely.
Wilde started typing.
“What are you doing?” Pine asked.
Wilde ignored him. He typed into the message field:
Hey, Naomi, it’s Wilde.
She may not think it’s really him. She may think it’s her father tricking her.
Aka Boo Radley.
Only she would get that reference.
I’m using your dad’s phone. He’s worried about you. So am I. Let me know you’re okay.
Wilde gave his current burner number and told her she could text or call. Then he tossed the phone back to Pine, but he pocketed the weapon.
It was time to talk to Matthew. He headed for the door.
“Will you help me?” Pine asked.
Wilde didn’t break stride. “I’ll help Naomi.”
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
As soon as he was out of the Pine house, Wilde checked the burner number he’d texted to Naomi, hoping for a quick response.
Nothing.
If Naomi had just run off, wouldn’t she reply to him right away? He might be deluding himself, but he thought so. There had been some sort of connection between them in that basement, two outcasts who kind of understood one another, but again maybe that was more him projecting than anything substantive.
He texted Matthew:
You home?
The dots danced before the word “Ya” popped up.
Mind if I come by?
Matthew’s reply was a thumbs-up emoji.
As Wilde took to the woods, he called Hester.
“Articulate,” she said as she picked up.
“What?”
“A friend of mine says that when he answers. I thought it was cute. What’s up?”
“Naomi Pine is missing again.”
“I heard.”
“How?”
She cleared her throat. “Oren told me.” Her voice sounded a little funny.
“What did he say?”
“That her dad came to him. That he made a big fuss but she probably ran away again.”
“The dad came to me too.”
“What does it look like?” Hester asked.
“Like she ran away on her own.”
He filled her in on the missing clothes and backpack and text to her dad not to worry.
“The text I dismiss,” Hester said. “If someone grabbed her, they could have taken her phone and sent anything.”
“Right.”
“But the clothes plus her past suggest she ran away.”
“Agree.”
“Either way—and I don’t know how to put this subtly—”
“Not your strong suit anyway, Hester.”
“—but this isn’t our business anymore. Unless you need the money.”
“I don’t.”
“So?”
“So two things,” he said.
“Let me guess,” Hester said. “Thing One: You met Naomi. You liked her. You want to help her, even if she ran away. You’re worried about her.”
“Yes.”
“And Thing Two?”
“You know Thing Two, Hester.”
There was a sigh. “Matthew.”
“He didn’t tell us everything that first time. We let it go when we found Naomi. The dad said she had bruises. Like someone hit her.”
“Oh come on, you don’t think Matthew—”
“Of course not. But I don’t think he’s told us everything either.”
“And you like the girl.”
Wilde thought about it. “Yes. And she’s alone. She ha
s no one.”
“How about that teacher you were bedding?”
Wilde frowned. “Did you really say ‘bedding’?”
“You’d prefer ‘shtupping’?”
“Better than ‘bedding,’” Wilde said. “We can try Ava, but in the end she’s just a schoolteacher, not a relative or friend.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“I’m going to talk to Matthew.”
“Now? I wouldn’t push him.”
“I won’t. Do you have contacts with the phone company?”
“I may,” she said.
“Can you ping Naomi’s phone? Find out where it is?”
“I can try.”
“Or you can ask Oren to do it,” Wilde said, “after you bed him.”
“Funny.”
Wilde pocketed the phone. The woods were never silent. Some days he got all intuitive and insightful about that, about the effects of quiet without silence, but for him it was different. It wasn’t necessarily enjoyable—it was what he needed. He didn’t lose his mind when he went to the “big city” or anything like that. He liked the change sometimes. But this was home. If he stayed away too long—if he didn’t escape to this quiet for long periods of time—it was something akin to a diver and the bends.
Sounded like Zen-level bullshit. Maybe it was.
Matthew was waiting for Wilde in the kitchen.
“Mom’s not home,” Matthew said.
Wilde knew. Laila had told him she’d be out late. “Naomi is missing again.”
Matthew didn’t reply.
“Did you notice? At school or anything?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
Shrug. “And I figured she’d run away or something. The last week has been brutal. I figured she needed a break.”
“You were very concerned last time.”
“And that ended up being nothing.”
“Why were you so concerned?”
Matthew shifted his feet. “I told you.”
“You got wind of this Challenge game?”
“Right.”
“Yeah, I’m not buying that, Matthew.”
His eyes went wide. “You think I’m lying?”
“Probably by omission. But yes.”
Matthew shook his head, feigning offense. Then he said, “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I don’t feel comfortable—”
“Then feel uncomfortable,” Wilde said.
“Hey, you’re not my father, you know?”
“Really?” Wilde gave him a hard gaze. “You want to play that card?”
Matthew looked down. His voice was soft. “Sorry.”
Wilde waited.
“I hurt her.”
Wilde felt his pulse pick up, but he stayed silent.
“There was this dance thing. Like a party.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
Matthew stopped.
After some time passed, Wilde said, “Where was the party?”
“Crash Maynard’s place. It was like a party, but it wasn’t really a party. It was more like a school function. A few years ago, a bunch of kids got wasted at a school dance, so we aren’t allowed to hold them in the gym anymore. So the Maynards volunteered to host. The whole class was there.”
“Naomi too?”
“The whole class, yeah.” Matthew kept his eyes on the floor.
Wilde folded his arms. “Go on.”
“Naomi brought a stuffed animal. A penguin. I think for her it was like a therapy pet or something, I don’t know. It wasn’t like she was being freaky about it. It was small. She kept it in her handbag. But she showed it to some of the girls. They started giggling about it. Anyway, Crash goes over and starts talking to her. He’s being all nice, showing her his stupid skull ring. Which means something is up. Anyway, it’s just to distract her. She’s smiling and so happy…and then two of the other guys run over and it’s like they purse-snatch her. She cries out and runs after them toward the woods behind the estate. Everyone’s laughing.”
Matthew paused.
“Including you?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s funny.”
“But you see this happen?”
“I was talking to Sutton Holmes.”
Sutton Holmes. Wilde and Matthew don’t have too many of those man-to-mans, but Wilde knew about Matthew’s crush. The only person who had ever been in Wilde’s Ecocapsule was Matthew. When the boy needed to get away, Wilde brought him there. Something about the outdoors, the camping, the being one with nature, whatever label you wanted to use, it seemed to always lead to opening up.
“It’s dark by now,” Matthew continued. “The Maynards rented these portable lights like you see at an outdoor baseball game. Half the kids are carrying flasks, so they’re mixing in vodka and grain alcohol with whatever sweet concoction the Maynards are serving. But I’m watching the woods. I’m waiting for Naomi to come back. Five minutes passed, maybe ten. Then Kyle emerges from the woods. He’s holding up his hand. At first, I can’t see what’s in it, but when he gets closer”—Matthew shut his eyes—“it was the head of the stuffed penguin. Just the head. Like the stuffing is leaking out.”
Wilde felt his heart sink.
“Everyone is cheering.”
Wilde tried to keep the judgment out of his voice. “You?”
“You want to hear this or not?”
He was right. There would be time enough later. Matthew looked so small right now. Wilde reminded himself that Matthew was the little boy who lost his father in a car crash. He’d just been trying to fit in, something Wilde never quite got because he’d wanted the opposite for himself.
“I was pretty wasted by now.”
“Wasted meaning…?”
“Drunk.”
“High too?”
“No, I didn’t take any drugs. But I had a lot to drink. I know that’s never an excuse for anything, but I think it matters. I was stumbling around and somewhere along the way, as it got later and later, I realized that no one was leaving. See, a parent had caught on to the fact that a lot of us were wasted and figured it’d be safest if we stayed on the estate until we sobered up.”
Made sense, Wilde thought.
“So I’m watching Crash take out a lighter. He flicks it and there’s a flame. And then he sets Naomi’s penguin on fire. Just like that. He had this big smile on his face. He looked around, I think, because he wanted to see Naomi’s reaction, and I realized that she hadn’t come back since she chased those guys who took her penguin.”
Matthew grabbed an apple and moved into the living room. Wilde followed him.
“What happened next, Matthew?”
Matthew stared down at the apple, cradling it in his palm, and Wilde wondered whether he was seeing that penguin. “I wish I could explain how I felt.”
“Try.”
“Crushed. Depressed. Sutton was with Crash now. Couples were starting to hook up and disappear. I just felt, I don’t know, out of place and angry and stupid and I’m drunk so all that is just…so I go looking for her. For Naomi. It’s dark. But thanks to you, I know my way around the woods. I stumble at one point, and my face smacks a tree. I’m even dizzier. My lip is bleeding. And then I found her. She’s just sitting on a rock. I can see her profile, and in the moonlight, Naomi looks really pretty. I move closer. She doesn’t turn, even though she has to hear me. There are no tears on her face. Her eyes are dry. I ask her if she’s okay. She says, ‘It’s just a stupid stuffed toy.’ And she seems to mean it. Like she really doesn’t care. I move a little closer, and my legs kinda give way, and I collapse next to her. We’re by that brook behind the Maynards’. I guess the noise is supposed to be nice and all, but you know what I remember thinking at the time?”
“No.”
“The noise makes me need to take a leak. So I excuse myself. I duck behind the nearest tree. That’s how drunk I am. Right there. I drop trou and…anyway, I zip
up and come back and sit with her. We start talking. It was nice. I’ve known Naomi my whole life. I don’t think we ever talked before. Not like that anyway. And again, I’m drunk and the brook babble is now kinda soothing and there’s the moonlight and I got a million things rushing through me. I don’t know how late it is. In the distance I see the stadium lights go off. So at some point, I kiss her. Or maybe she kisses me. Whatever, it’s consensual on both our parts. I don’t want you to think it wasn’t. It was definitely okay by her. We make out. And in my mind, I don’t know how to describe it. Part of me is so into it, right? I mean, most of me. I don’t know if I like her or not. I don’t even think that matters. I can’t explain it better.”
Teenagers, Wilde thought. A boy and a girl at a party. We may not like it, but it’s a tale as old as time.
“You want to hear something awful?”
Wilde gave him a small nod.
“We start going at it a little harder. Her hand is on my leg, all that. And part of me is like, Yeah, awesome. And part of me is like, Wow, look at you—you’re with the biggest loser in the school.” Matthew stopped, raised his hand, shook his head. “I’m not explaining this right. And it doesn’t matter. Because right then, with her hand on my leg and my hand under her shirt, a big spotlight hits us in the face. We both jump back. I can hear laughter. Hard to make out, but for sure I can hear Crash and Ryan and…Naomi runs. Like a rabbit. She jumps up and takes off. I can’t even see. The light is still in my eyes. I raise my hand to block it. Everyone is laughing and mocking me for being with her. I’m all blinking and I can feel tears start coming. I just want to die, you know? I’m thinking I’m never going to live this down. And for the next two months, I don’t. Wherever I was on the social ladder, I’m tossed down to the bottom. Not as low as Naomi. But down there.”
“What did you say?” Wilde asked. “To the guys laughing at you.”
“That it was nothing. That I was just having fun.” He swallowed. “I…I said that she’s easy.”
“Classy.”
Matthew closed his eyes. Wilde backed off.
“Did you talk to Naomi about it?”
“No.”
“Seriously?”
Matthew didn’t reply.
“When did you next see her?”
“At school, but we avoided each other.” Matthew thought about it. “It was more me avoiding her, to be honest. It was really bad for a few weeks.”
