by Sara Shepard
“I haven’t been anywhere. I didn’t take vacations as a kid.”
“No? Why not?”
Brett shrugged. “It’s a long story.”
Aerin watched as he chewed the inside of his lip. He looked uncomfortable suddenly. She didn’t want to lead him in an uncomfortable direction. “You had that beach house in Avignon before you visited us in Dexby, though. So you learned to like the beach.”
“That’s true. I got that place as an adult. I went there most summers.”
“What did you do during the winter?”
“Oh, you know.” He raised his gaze to her. His face was full of confidence again. Swagger, even. “This and that.”
“Come on. Did you work on a cruise ship? Ski in Aspen?” Kidnap people? Kill women?
“Why don’t you tell me more about this Mallorca trip you loved so much?” He cocked his head, and a taunting smile played on his lips. “Did you kiss a sexy Spaniard while you were there?”
“I was seven,” Aerin reminded him. “I wasn’t looking at boys. But even if I was, the brooding Spanish guy isn’t my type.”
This seemed to intrigue Brett. “Why is it your go-to place, then?”
Aerin looked away, then felt a surprising rush of honesty. No one had ever asked her that question. She’d actually never talked about Mallorca with anybody, not even Thomas. “It’s just so … different,” she admitted. “And I don’t know anybody there. I feel like I could be anyone there. And best of all, my problems wouldn’t follow me.” She swallowed hard, recalling something. “A year ago, I stole my mom’s credit card and bought a one-way plane ticket to Mallorca. I needed out of Dexby, bad.”
“Why?”
Aerin pulled her knees to her chest and rolled her aching wrists. Five minutes had definitely passed, but she wasn’t going to remind Brett to re-zip-tie her. “Well, my mom was getting on my case about not being enrolled in enough AP classes—it was all, What are you going to do about college? And it was Helena’s birthday, but no one remembered. My dad was pissed because I hadn’t visited him and his new girlfriend in the city, but meanwhile, she’s only a few years older than me, which is disgusting.” She shrugged. “Shit was hard, so I wanted to bolt. It’s kind of what I do.”
“So did you go?”
Aerin shut her eyes. “Nope. I chickened out. I just hid in my room instead. Didn’t talk to anyone. Drank a bunch of Mike’s Hard Lemonade by myself—same old, same old.”
“What made you stay?”
Aerin pressed her lips together. She knew why. It was because she didn’t want to put her parents through another daughter going missing. They might ignore her, they might not be there for her in ways she needed them to be, but she’d seen how Helena had damaged both of them. There was no way she could willingly do that to someone.
Brett’s gaze fell to his lap, and a contemplative expression flashed across his face. “I understand wanting to hide, you know. I go through phases of being like that, too.”
A strange jolt went through Aerin. There was something so fraught about his voice, so weak and small and utterly … human. For a moment, she wondered if she was seeing the real Brett.
Something beeped in the hall. Brett’s head swiveled toward the door, and he stood. He leaned over her and redid the zip ties, but he seemed reluctant, even apologetic, and he made them just a teensy bit looser this time.
“It was nice talking,” he said as he picked up her tray. “I told you I’m a nice guy once you get to know me.”
“Yeah.” Aerin managed a smile.
Only when he’d disappeared could she let all the coiled-up pressure in her body release. She fell back on the bed, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry or kick something. But at least he didn’t hurt you, she told herself. Hell, he barely touched you.
Mission accomplished.
THIRTEEN
TALLYHO ISLAND LOOKED like a cross between a secluded island paradise and a zombie apocalypse wasteland. What Maddox could see of the landscape was cool—lots of waving reeds and dunes, water as far as the eye could see, a towering sky—but where the hell were all the people? The other passengers from the ferry disembarked and then got swallowed up in the mist, disappearing like ghosts. Maddox figured there had to be telephone poles, electrical towers, street signs—stuff that hinted at civilization—but it was way too foggy to tell. The little ticket booth at the end of the small parking lot looked spookily abandoned—he was almost ready for a limping zombie to burst out of it, drooling and half-crazy and infected with an island-borne disease.
“Wow,” he mused to the group. “You leave New York City, and suddenly you’re on another planet.”
To their surprise, a man stepped out of the ticket booth. He was older, in a short-sleeved button-down shirt and a Mets ball cap pulled low over his forehead. Seneca stepped toward him. “Excuse me, sir, but have you seen this person?” She held up her phone, showing him the picture of Sadie Sage they now knew by heart.
The man’s brown eyes narrowed. “Not sure. In the summer, a lot of people come and go from this island.”
Maddox almost burst out laughing. Seriously? He peered at the desolation. Where are they hiding?
“But those are tourists, right?” Seneca pressed. “Like, just visiting for a day or two. I read about this island—there are no hotels here, right?”
“Yep.” The ticket man nodded. “We’ve been approached by a few hotel chains, but we like this island locals-only.”
“So has anyone new moved to the island in the past month or so?” Seneca asked.
He thought about this, then nodded. “Actually, yes. About a month ago, we had a huge load of stuff come over on the ferry. Some furniture. Some boxes.”
Maddox’s heart jumped. Maybe Sadie Sage had held on to her belongings. “Who did it belong to?”
“A woman. First new resident we’ve had in a while.” He looked at the picture again. “That could be her … but I’m not sure. She keeps to herself. I haven’t seen her since she moved.”
“Was anyone with her?” Seneca asked. “A boy, maybe?”
The man chewed on his bottom lip. “You know, there might have been a kid. I wasn’t paying much attention, though.”
The hair on the back of Maddox’s neck rose. He exchanged a loaded look with Seneca—was this Sadie and Damien?
The man looked at them pointedly. “Is there some sort of trouble here? We’re a peaceful community. We don’t want any commotion.”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Seneca assured him. Then she yanked the group toward the only road that was visible. “Thanks for all your help!” she called as she walked away.
When they were a safe distance from the ticket guy, Madison said in a whisper, “The new person on the island has to be Sadie, don’t you think?”
“We have to figure out where she lives,” Seneca said.
Maddox smiled. “I have an idea how. But we have to find people first.”
They continued down the road. Maddox had to admit it felt good to walk, actually, after all those hours stuck in the car, and he started to jog ahead of the girls, raising his knees high, lengthening his stride. Air filled his lungs. His heart seemed to smile. He was definitely running tomorrow morning.
Occasionally, houses would rise up through the mist, ramshackle beaters that looked like they’d had their butts kicked from the weather. Huge, spooky, pterodactyl-size birds circled out at sea. Heavy gray clouds blotted out the sun. But then a little strip mall arose through the mist. Maddox jogged toward it. There was a small market, an ice cream shop, a place that sold bait and tackle, and a little store called Quilting Corner.
“Aha,” Maddox said, spying a pretty blonde through the window at the ice cream shop. “Leave this to me.”
The bells jingled as he opened the door. The small shop smelled like vanilla, waffle cones, and that horrible potpourri scent Maddox’s mother loved. The girl at the counter wore a pink apron with the business’s logo and a pointed hat in the shape of a
n ice cream swirl. She smiled at Maddox with interest. Time to turn on the charm.
“Hey,” he said, sidling up to her and offering one of his signature, I’m-a-cute-track-star grins. “I like your hat.”
“Oh my God.” She touched it self-consciously. “This thing is awful. They make me wear it.”
“Nah, it’s cute.” Maddox turned to the window. The others were watching him curiously, especially Seneca. “I’m just here for the day. This island is something, huh? Do you live here?”
The girl shook her head. “No way. I commute from Staten Island. I’d lose it if I lived here.” She rolled her eyes.
“Right? I didn’t realize the no-cell thing until I got on the ferry.” Maddox gave her a commiserating smile. She giggled. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Maddox, by the way.”
“Amberly.”
“Amberly,” Maddox repeated as they shook. “Sweet.”
She giggled again. He’d forgotten how easy it was to flirt. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Seneca shifting at the curb. It wasn’t that Maddox wanted to make her jealous, exactly, but it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for her to see that he could hold his own with girls. And okay, the strange argument they’d gotten into while waiting for the ferry still bugged him. Yes, yes, this was crappy timing … but couldn’t they be together and solve this case? And how could she accuse him of not taking it seriously again and again? Just because he wasn’t freaking out 24-7 didn’t mean he didn’t care about Aerin’s safety. Honestly, he thought he was being more levelheaded than Seneca was. She’d been so impetuous lately, so unpredictable. If she just talked to him, maybe he’d get it. But she was doing the opposite of talking. She was pushing him away.
He leaned against the counter at Amberly again. “Do any kids live on this island?”
Amberly rinsed off an ice cream scoop in a small metal sink. “This one family used to, but they moved away. There’s a baby and her mom that always come in, though.”
“How about a nine-year-old? Someone said a boy just moved here.”
She peered at a ceiling fan for a moment. “Oh yeah—maybe. I’ve only seen him once.” She made a face. “He must be so lonely.”
“Does he live by the water? A house by the beach wouldn’t be too bad.”
“Nah, I think he’s over on Tweed Lane. It’s okay. Sort of in the woods.”
Bingo. “Any idea which house?”
Amberly smoothed her hands over her apron. “It’s not a big street, but no.”
Maddox pretended to check his phone. “Ugh. I signed up for some sort of scheduled hike that starts in two minutes.” He rolled his eyes. “But maybe I’ll see you again?” He tapped the glass case of ice cream tubs. “Save me a scoop of mint chip?”
Amberly’s eyes twinkled. “You got it.”
Maddox strolled out, his chest puffed triumphantly. Madison lingered at the curb, scowling at her phone. “Where’s Seneca?” he asked, suddenly worried she’d taken this the wrong way. She had to know he was flirting just to get info, right?
“Over there.” Madison pointed across the parking lot; Seneca was speaking to an older couple pushing a shopping cart. He watched as she thanked them, and strolled back toward the group.
“The new woman moved to a red house on Tweed Lane,” Seneca reported. “It’s a half mile up the road.”
“Way to steal my thunder. I found that out, too.” Except not the red part, he thought with chagrin.
Seneca gave Maddox an uh-duh look. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out, Maddox. This woman is the only person who moved to the island in years. Of course all the locals know where she is.” She gave his forearm a little pinch. “And also? Don’t try to make me jealous by flirting with a girl in an ice cream hat ever again. You should know by now I don’t fall for that crap.”
“You got me,” Maddox said, grateful for Seneca’s levity. He bumped her hip. “And that’s why I like you.”
TWEED LANE HAD a crooked road sign and was surrounded by thick, dense woods. The first house they came upon was a small, battered-looking ranch with a bunch of howling dogs and a VW bus in the driveway. The second house was a colonial with two old people sitting on Adirondack chairs in the front yard. They waved to Maddox, and he was tempted to ask them where the single mom lived, but he didn’t want to draw attention to the group in case crazy shit was about to go down.
“Look,” Madison whispered.
She pointed to a neat gravel driveway up ahead. Through the trees was a small, tidy red A-frame house. There was no car in the driveway, but a light was on in the window.
They crept toward the house. Their footfalls sounded like exploding bombs. Every time Maddox heard even a tiny snap, his stomach did a flip. He inched toward the glass and listened. Wouldn’t a kid cooped up in a house be making some sort of sound?
Suddenly, a figure passed in and out of view through the second-floor window. Maddox’s heart thumped. It was a child. He looked to be about Damien’s age.
“Could that be …?” he whispered, pointing.
The figure slipped out of view. Seneca stared at the window. Madison held her breath. They all waited for Damien to appear again. Maddox could hear his heart in his ears. He hadn’t actually thought they’d get to this point. What were they going to do if it was him? They couldn’t call Brett from here because of the no-cell signal. They could call 9-1-1, but what if that was against Brett’s orders? They hadn’t discussed what they’d do if they actually found who they were looking for.
Then they heard a new sound—and this one was much closer, right behind Maddox’s head. It was a sharp, metallic noise of something clicking into place. Just before Maddox could wheel around and figure out what it was, he felt something heavy and hard press into his skull. He flinched, and his eyes slid to the right. He saw a sliver of red hair. The metal butt of a gun. A wild look in someone’s eyes.
“Freeze, assholes,” a voice said. And Maddox did exactly that.
FOURTEEN
SENECA STARED AT the gun. The woman holding it was tall and pointy-chinned, and though her hair was red, she could be Sadie Sage. She aimed the gun at them with the ease of someone who’d practiced using a weapon. Her nostrils flared in and out. As if on cue, the wind whipped through the trees. Branches cascaded from the sky, one narrowly missing Seneca’s head.
“Get the hell off my property!” the woman roared. “Leave or I’ll shoot, I swear!”
“Wait a minute!” Maddox’s voice was steady. “Let’s all just calm down. We know what you’ve done. People are looking for you. If we just go calmly, no one will get hurt.”
The woman looked livid. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She raised the gun higher. Seneca felt woozy. This was a terrible idea. Sadie Sage was a maniac. Of course she wasn’t going to go quietly. Of course she was going to shoot anyone who tracked her down.
Seneca glanced toward the trees. Could they run for it? Maybe they could go back to the strip mall, find a phone, and call the cops. But what if Sadie chased them? What if she shot Damien hiding inside?
Was this Brett’s endgame? Maybe he knew all along that Sadie was crazy and murderous. Maybe he wanted to lead them straight to her so she’d just kill them.
“He has a family,” Maddox said, his eyes still trained on Sadie. “Please think of how scared he is. He just wants his mother back.”
The woman waved the gun slightly. “I’m his mother. I’m their mother. What, did Gerald tell you I wasn’t? What kind of bullshit is that?” She pointed the gun directly at him. “I’ll kill you before I let you take them from me. I swear.”
Them? Seneca blinked hard. Something about this didn’t feel right.
Suddenly, the sliding glass door opened, and a small head poked out. “Mom?” The boy’s face went sheet-white. “Mom! What are you doing?”
“Go away!” The woman’s gaze was still trained on Seneca and the group. “Get back inside, Marcus!”
Marcus? Seneca dared to stare at him. The boy was nine
or so, but he wasn’t wearing glasses, and his hair was curly, not poker-straight, as Damien’s was in the pictures. Actually, he looked nothing like Damien at all.
As she watched, two more kids appeared. The girl looked to be about seven. She held the hand of a towheaded toddler who was wearing a T-shirt and a diaper. Both kids stared at the scene with wide, watering eyes.
Seneca’s eyes darted from the children to the woman. She could tell the others were registering this, too—Madison gasped, and Maddox took a small step backward. Suddenly, the boy shot out from the glass door and threw his arms around the woman’s waist. She let out a wail, and the gun clattered to the ground. Madison scrambled for it, held it in her arms for a few scared seconds, and then tossed it across the driveway, where no one could reach it.
“Okay,” she said, turning back to the group. “Let’s all just chill.”
But the woman wasn’t listening. She and her son were a puddle of tears. The other kids came out too and whimpered at the woman’s side. They clung to her desperately, their little nails digging into her back. “I don’t want to go back, Mom,” the oldest boy wailed.
“I know, honey,” the woman murmured. “I know you don’t. And I won’t let that happen. I promise. Remember how I promised?”
Seneca’s heart twisted. No kidnapped kid would hug his captor like this, would he? This couldn’t be Damien. This didn’t fit at all.
“Uh …” Maddox whispered, sensing the disconnect, too. The lump in Seneca’s throat expanded. Whatever they’d walked into was bad, but it didn’t feel like a kidnapping.
No one knew what to do while the woman and the kids calmed down. It felt rude to leave, but it also felt rude to stay. Seneca wished she could just dissolve and reappear somewhere else on the island, pretending this had never happened. Finally, the woman lifted her head and gave them a supplicating stare. “Well? What are you going to do?”
