by A J Rivers
“Well, the doctor says we’ll probably have to stay for at least another day. She’s doing really well, except her bilirubin is higher than they like to see. Nothing dangerous at this point, but they just want to monitor it and see if she’s going to need any other intervention.”
“Maybe she’ll get to be a glow-worm,” Xavier says. “That would be fun.”
Bellamy laughs and shakes her head. “I’ll remember to tell her that when she gets older.”
I settle on the side of the mattress and give the baby a nuzzle with my nose. When I look up, I notice Xavier watching us. He has that same look on his face that says something is turning around in his brain.
“What, Xavier?” I ask.
“Oh, I was just noticing something,” he says.
“What?” Eric asks.
He sounds a little nervous, which I can’t really blame him for, but Xavier doesn’t look worried. There’s a hint of an amused smile on his lips.
“When they sit like that,” Xavier explains, pointing to each of us in turn. “B - EB - E. Bellamy, Emmabelle, Emma. Bebe. Like ‘baby’ in French.”
Bellamy grins and kisses the tiny head snuggled up in the curve of her neck.
“Bebe,” she says. “I like it.”
And just like that, Xavier has given Emmabelle her nickname.
We tell Bellamy and Eric about our plans to go explore the location we finally identified and then take Xavier for his birthday celebration at a local theme park we found. I feel bad about leaving again, but Bellamy shakes her head.
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “We’re going to be here in the hospital for at least another day, and then my mom’s coming into town to help when we first get home. Everything’s going to be fine. Take advantage of time away while you have it. I’m absolutely going to be milking the Auntie Emma card as much as humanly possible when you get back.”
I laugh and lean down to hug her. “Deal.”
We leave the hospital and head out for Sherando Ridge and Ashley’s former stomping grounds. Now that we know what we’re looking for, it doesn’t take long for us to find the abandoned old elementary school. Sam and Dean did some research and found out that this school shut down decades ago. It was meant to be repurposed, but the community never got around to it.
That left the building and the schoolyard around it empty and unattended. The perfect place for teenagers wanting to get away from the watchful eyes of adults. We park out in front of the building and walk around to the back.
“Can you see it?” I ask Sam.
More specifically, I ask Sam’s face on the screen of my phone. He headed back to Sherwood this morning after we visited Bellamy in the hospital. But he’s curious about this location and what it has to do with Ashley’s disappearance. I agreed to do a video call with him while we were here, but now I’m realizing how difficult it is to try to show him what I’m seeing just by moving the phone around.
“Sort of,” he says. “Tilt me down a little bit.”
The three of us split up and each head out in our own directions to roam around the old playground. What I can imagine used to be a grassy field with playground equipment and tall trees is now dry and brown. The frame of a metal swing set stands a few yards away from me. The swings are long gone, but a single chain hangs down from the top of the metal frame.
A rusted merry-go-round is off to the other side. I can’t even imagine how many children were hurt trying to push that thing around in circles, then jump onto it without losing their balance. And how many more ended up getting slung off by the force of the spinning.
I orient myself and look around.
“This is definitely the same place,” I observe. “And by the looks of some of this trash, it hasn’t been forgotten as a hangout. I wonder if the local police even have this place on their radar.”
“I would hope they would,” Sam says. “I know I keep an eye out on any abandoned buildings. Before the old high school was turned into the community center, I used to send guys down there to check it out regularly.”
“I remember,” I say.
I also remember the single running shoe sitting in the middle of the track, and the woman waiting for me inside the abandoned building with a knife.
“So they came here to hang out without any adults knowing what they were up to. How is that any different from going to Sherando Ridge?” Dean wonders.
“Going to the park is legal,” I tell him. “They aren’t trespassing. And it’s a good story to tell parents.”
“Alright,” he nods. “But they came clean. They told us they were there with guys when they actually last saw Ashley. Why bother lying about that? Why didn’t they just stick to what they said originally?”
“They knew Emma was getting suspicious,” Sam pipes up from the phone speaker. “They could tell she wasn’t believing their story. Maybe they wanted to seem as though they were opening up and telling the truth, even if it made them look bad.”
“Because the actual truth might make them look even worse,” I add.
“Dean?” Xavier calls from across the yard.
“Yeah, buddy?” Dean calls back.
“What exactly are we looking for?”
“We don’t really know. Maybe we’ll know it when we see it,” Dean says.
“I see a tombstone,” Xavier says.
Dean and I look at each other, then over at Xavier. He’s near a tree that looks half-ravaged by weather and neglect but still has a few scraggly leaves hanging on. He’s leaned over and looking at the ground, hands hanging down by his sides as if he’s trying not to touch anything around him.
We take off toward him. Dean gets to his side first, and the expression on his face changes when he sees what Xavier is looking at. I get there a second later and my stomach drops.
The rock nestled up against the base of the tree is large enough to stand out from the grass grown up around it, but not so large that it’s obvious from the other side of the tree. Tombstone isn’t exactly how I would describe it. But it’s not so far off.
“Show me,” Sam says.
I turn my phone so he can see the rock and the faint etching just barely still visible in the rough gray surface.
RIP
Ten minutes later red and blue lights sweep over the yard and then go still. We hear the unmistakable crackling and garbled voices of police radio transmitters coming around the side of the building. Three stern-faced officers meet us in the middle of the yard.
“Agent Griffin,” one of the officers says, extending his hand to me.
I recognize him as one of the officers who responded the night everything went down at Arrow Lake Campground.
“Officer Perkins,” I say. “Good to see you again.”
“I wish I could say the same, but your being at the site of an emergency call probably doesn’t mean something good is happening,” he replies. “What’s going on here?”
“You remember Dean,” I say, gesturing to my cousin behind me.
The officer nods and reaches out to shake Dean’s hand. “Of course. How are you feeling?”
“Almost as good as new,” Dean says. “Thanks.”
It’s an oversimplification of his actual condition, considering just a few weeks ago an arrow shot from a compound bow tore through his shoulder and out of his back. But he recovered well in the hospital and has barely been showing any signs of lingering pain. Occasionally I notice him favoring that side, but he wouldn’t want anyone to mention it. Acknowledging any lasting effects of the injury would be continuing to acknowledge Rodney Mitchell, something he’s just not willing to do.
“Dean and I are investigating a missing persons case that came up during the initial investigation of the campground. Ashley Stevenson.”
Perkins nods. “I know the name. That’s that girl who ran off when she was with her friends, right? Why are you looking into her? I thought she was a runaway.”
“Why do you think that?” I ask.
He looks confused. “
That’s what the detectives said. She was a teenager who got rebellious and ran off.”
“She was thirteen,” I say. “Barely. She’d just turned thirteen a month before. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never known a thirteen-year-old who would be capable of starting a new life and staying invisible for five years. Her parents don’t think she ran away, and we’ve gotten some information that suggests there’s a lot more to her going missing than just her running off. That’s why we’re here.”
The officer’s face goes dark. “Did you find something?”
“I don’t know. It might be absolutely nothing. But considering the gravity of the case we’re investigating, I can’t make that assumption. It needs to be thoroughly looked into,” I say.
“What have you got for me?”
When the officers first see the stone, I can tell it doesn’t have much impact on them. But they aren’t going to tell me they won’t look into it. They call it into the station and a detective arrives. I introduce myself and make my statement.
“Thank you,” he says. “I appreciate the call. I’m going to need to ask you to leave so we can evaluate the scene.”
I can already tell he thinks being here is completely ridiculous. He sees nothing more than a stone with a few letters scratched into it. Getting us to leave is just his way of getting us off his back.
“I’m going to put a call into the detective handling Ashley Stevenson’s case and let him know what’s going on,” I say. “I suggest you put effort into the search. He wants to put this case to bed. If you need anything from me, call. I won’t be available tomorrow. I’m traveling. But I’ll be available the next day.”
“Should be fine, Agent Griffin. You go and enjoy your trip. We’ll be in touch.”
Twenty-Six
“If you don’t ride the rollercoaster first, then you risk being stuck in line when they close. No one wants the last thing they do to be ‘Tiny Tim’s Terrible Tuesday’,” Dean says.
“I said what I said,” Xavier responds, stuffing his hands into his pockets and leaning back on his heels.
It feels as if I have interrupted a deep and long argument, and when Dean sees me over Xavier’s shoulder, he rolls his eyes. Xavier turns to look at me and raises his eyebrows in a similar exasperated expression.
“Emma,” Xavier says. “Dean seems to be under the impression that rollercoasters go before bumper cars. He has no appreciation for the slow increase of H.P.A. and the inherent connection to the perception of fun.”
“H.P.A.?” I frown.
“Heartbeats Per Attraction,” Dean explains. “It’s a system he made up to rank the scariness of rides.”
“Not scariness,” Xavier says. “Otherwise ‘Tiny Tim’ would be dead last.” He shudders. “The clown out front gives me the willies.”
“Dean,” I say, touching his arm, “it’s Xavier’s birthday.”
“Celebration,” Xavier corrects.
“Birthday celebration,” I say.
“Because my birthday already happened.”
“Right,” I say.
“I guess, technically, I could always say that. I have had birthdays before,” Xavier says. “My birthday has happened multiple times over. I am referring to my most recent birthday.” He stands taller and clears his throat as if to make an announcement. “I am celebrating my most recent birthday, not the many birthdays of my past, nor birthdays of my future, should I have any.”
I stare at him for a moment, and when he nods, I assume he is done.
“Right,” I say.
“Which I hope to,” he blurts out before I can continue my thought. I stay silent, waiting for him to say something else, but he doesn’t.
“Right. So,” I say. “Whatever Xavier wants to do, we do.”
“Fine,” Dean admits, “but I am going to chase you around that track until your H.P.A. is at rollercoaster level.”
“I look forward to it,” Xavier grins. “Prepare to be bumpered.”
“They’re called bumper cars because of the bumpers that surround them,” I say. “It’s not a verb.”
Am I correcting Xavier? Willingly opening the floodgates for one of his explanations? What the hell kind of nonsense is going on in my head?
He looks at me and I prepare to chase around his words and try to make them make sense.
“Emma. I was being whimsical.”
“Oh,” I say after a pause. “Well, whimsical away.”
“Dean,” Xavier says. “Prepare to be bumpered. You, too, Emma.”
“I’m well prepared. Let’s go.”
“Not yet,” Dean says.
“We don’t need to wait for Sam,” I say. “He’s just run to the help desk to get us the picture pass. He’ll call me when he’s done.”
Sam insisted on coming down to celebrate Xavier’s birthday with us. He got here early this morning and will head back to Sherwood tonight. It’s an exhausting jaunt for him, but he didn’t want to miss this. He’s so sweet and cares so much about other people. It’s one of the reasons I love him.
“No, not Sam,” Dean says.
“Then who?” I ask, completely confused.
Dean nods behind me. I turn to see Ava making her way toward us, holding a lanyard with a clear plastic cardholder on it to her chest with one hand and the other raised in a wave. She’s jogging toward us in an awkward gait somewhere between hurrying and trying to look as if she’s not hurrying.
Oh, you have got to be freaking kidding me.
I turn back to Dean, heat rising up the sides of my face.
“What is she doing here?” I whisper, trying to keep my voice calm.
“I invited her,” Dean shrugs. “She’s actually a very nice person if you give her a chance. I thought it would be nice to have her with us at the park. Especially considering you kind of abandoned her when you found out Bellamy was in labor.” Those last words spill out of him fast to make sure they’re all out before Ava gets to us. His face brightens in a smile. “Hi!”
I look over at Xavier. His head is tilted to the side as he watches Dean and Ava greet each other. He’s trying to figure it out, to process that she’s there and that he’s going to have to integrate her into his plans. He doesn’t push back, so I take a breath and force myself to get some perspective.
It’s awkward for sure, but I want to make the best of it. The day is about Xavier after all, and as long as he isn’t going to be too upset, I really don’t have a reason to be, either. Dean is right. I did just peace out and go to the hospital without telling Ava we were leaving or that we wouldn’t be there to investigate the next day. I barely even remembered she was a thing until I saw her coming toward us just now.
But this is precisely why I had misgivings about this whole situation. There’s a reason I don’t have pets or houseplants. In a lot of ways, she fits into that category. No pets, no houseplants, no extra people on the periphery of a case.
Sam joins us as we make our way to one side of the park where the games that most closely resemble midway games are. It’s an interesting park, different from any I’ve been to before. But Xavier wanted a roller coaster for his birthday, and this is the closest one we could find. While Xavier frets about raising his H.P.A., I am wondering if there’s even enough to do to make it until nightfall. The park is tiny and unless he’s going to be sampling the kiddie land after the bumper cars, there won’t be much progression to be had.
We stand in line for the bumper cars, and Sam joins us, coming up behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist.
“Bumper cars?” Sam raises an eyebrow.
“Starting slow,” Xavier calls back.
“He has to raise his H.P.A. carefully,” I explain.
“Is that something I need to be concerned about?” he asks. “I won’t give up the cinnamon rolls.”
I shake my head with a laugh.
When we get in our cars and wait for the electricity to jolt them to life, Dean doesn’t go immediately for Xavier. Instead, he veers of
f to the side and bumps Ava. Not hard, but enough to get her attention before zooming off.
Interesting. Maybe his inviting her here didn’t really have anything to do with my abandoning her after all.
But I’m not going to dwell on that right now. There are other things to think about, and while I’m trying to enjoy my time at the park with everyone, I can’t stop my thoughts from wandering back to the case. It feels as if I’m staring at a locked door. Just beyond is whatever is tugging at the corner of my consciousness. If I could only get inside, I could probably figure it out in a flash. But I can’t seem to get it open, no matter how hard I try.
That gets harder and harder with each new thing Xavier guides us to. Dean stops pouting about the roller coaster after getting a few licks in on the bumper cars and then getting Xavier to challenge him in a couple of skill games. It’s impressive how good Xavier gets after one or two tries at each one, and Dean seems to know it’s coming, not spending more than three rounds at any of them.
“I’d like to try this one,” Ava says as the boys move on from a game where the object is to shoot water at a target in a duck’s mouth to get a little duck above to move. “Emma, will you play?”
It sounds so innocent that it’s almost cute. I nod, not even realizing I am doing it. Sam sits down between us and pays for the three of us to go with tickets he has balled up in his shirt pocket.
Ava wins the first round, which sets off my competitive streak. I pull the tickets out of Sam’s shirt and we go again. This time, I win. Sam seems to notice the tension and stands up before I can reach in and go for the tiebreaker.
“Come on,” he says. “I think Xavier wants to get food.”
“Fine,” I say, standing reluctantly. “Where?”
“There.” Ava points to a little building made up to look like a giant cupcake.
Xavier is already walking back toward us, a giant cone of cotton candy in one hand and a drink in the other. Dean follows him with his own.
“What in the world?” Sam asks. “That has to be two feet of cotton candy.”
“Good eye,” Xavier says. “They advertise it as two feet, but I had to get them to re-spin it. The first time only came out to a foot and eight inches.”
