Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(44)

He looked back at Detective West and his envelope thick with information he wasn’t sure he wanted.

“You have an aunt up north,” said West. “Your mother’s sister, someone who’s been looking for her all these years. The technology just caught up.”

Henry felt frozen. West went on:

“I put Alice’s photo and information up on a new national missing persons database called NamUs and I got a match with a decades-old missing persons case from up north. Your aunt identified her from the photographs. All the information is here.”

Your aunt.

Detective West held the envelope out to Henry.

“If you want it.”

He didn’t. He didn’t want to know who he really was, who Alice had really been. He only wanted to know who he could become. The past was a swamp, a morass. If he walked in, what darkness, what monsters awaited? Would he sink into its murky bottom? Would he find his way out again?

Piper’s laughter rang out. Her girlfriend Beck was shrieking about something. Henry felt drawn back to them.

And yet—it was primal, wasn’t it? Something coded in the cells. The desire to know who you came from, where. Why you were the way you were.

He took the envelope, put it in the lapel pocket of his own suit jacket. Maybe he should ask questions. But his throat felt sandpaper dry, constricted. Detective West looked off into the trees edging the field.

“I haven’t stopped looking for her killer, Henry. But I have to be honest. I don’t have a single lead, not one solid clue. Of course, DNA technology is changing all the time. It’s impacting cold cases, just like this—so who knows. I won’t stop looking. I promise.”

Why do you care so much? Henry wanted to ask. What kept this man holding on? Henry wanted to let go. If he could take a pill to forget Alice and his past completely, he would.

“Thank you,” he said.

West gave him a sad smile. “Good luck, son.”

The syllables felt weighted, always did, no matter who uttered them, as if the speaker knew too well all the pitfalls and hairpin turns on that seemingly bright road to the future.

“Thank you, Detective West,” he said again.

“What did he want?” asked Piper when Henry returned to the group. There was that little notch she got between her eyes when she was worried. Her dress clung to the fullness of her breasts, at her narrow waist, the color lighting up her skin. She wore her hair up, and pretty wisps floated around her face. He pushed one behind her ear.

“Nothing. Just to wish me well.”

“He gave you something.”

“A gift.” Maybe. Maybe not. An aunt, somewhere up north. Family.

Piper nodded uncertainly, but then her best friend, Beck, pulled Henry into a hug, and everyone was laughing, moving toward cars, ready to head to next events. There was a big party at Piper’s tonight. And Henry had the feeling that life, real life, was about to begin. He let the feeling swell and carry him along, away from Detective West and his grim expressions.

It would be a long time before he opened that envelope.





19


Bracken





June 2018


May dozed beside him and he could feel the storm coming, something about the air, a sizzle, a kind of electricity. Today, the shops had been packed, people stocking up on bottled water, nonperishable food and supplies. He always marveled at this. He was a minimalist, but even he had a storeroom of supplies. In a place where the weather could be violent and unpredictable, where roads got washed out and you might be stranded, didn’t it just make good sense to plan ahead and not be caught last-minute scrambling for the things you need?

The last storm that had come through here had the power down for days, roads impassable. He’d had one family stranded at Overlook for three extra nights. If not for his big truck, he wouldn’t have been able to get to them, bring them supplies, let them charge their phones in his truck. They offered to pay him, but of course he didn’t accept. That was against his personal code as a host. Help whenever possible, free of charge. In return they left him the most glowing review he’d ever received: Bracken, our host, was a true hero. Making it to us over impassable roads, bringing supplies and letting us stay on until we could get our car out, free of charge. I wish all people were like him. The world would be a better place. He took “superhost” to a whole new level.

The woman, what was her name? Lara? She had a dragonfly tattoo on her hip. It was pretty, tasteful. In the shower she rubbed her soapy hand on it, like it was some kind of charm or worry stone.

“Stay tonight?” May whispered now as he tried to shift away from her. She lay a hand on his arm.

He turned and picked up her hand, kissed it. “I can’t tonight.”

“You can. If you want to.” It wasn’t like her to ask for more than he offered. Usually she didn’t even stir when he left in the night. He’d never stayed until morning. With a kid in the house, it just wasn’t right. Even when Leilani wasn’t there, she was there—her toys, books, little girl all around.

“I’ll stay a while longer,” he said, settling back. Outside, the moon was high and full.

She moved in closer to him, and he dropped an arm around her.

“Okay,” she said.

He toyed with it. The idea of staying here. Being here with May. But he couldn’t, his other desires an itch he couldn’t scratch. An appetite he couldn’t sate. He waited until her breathing became steady, then he slipped from the bed.