Lost in the Never Woods(105)

Mr. Darling snapped out of his daze.

“Don’t you DARE come anywhere near my daughter!” Mr. Darling snarled, his lips pulling back, baring his teeth. “You killed my boys!” It was a guttural roar. Spittle collected at the corners of his mustache. “I swear to God, I’ll—”

Wendy’s father surged forward, nostrils flaring, the tendons in his neck corded. Mr. Davies shrank back and his arms shot up to shield himself. Around them, police officers converged on Mr. Davies and blocked her father’s path to him.

Wendy leapt forward and grabbed her dad’s arm, trying to pull him back. “Dad, don’t!”

Mr. Darling froze, but he didn’t take his eyes off the cowering man in front of him. His barrel chest heaved up and down. Wendy held on to her father as tightly as she could, but it was like a child holding back a charging bull. “He’s telling the truth. Mr. Davies didn’t take the kids,” Wendy said to Detective James.

“How do you know that?” Detective James asked, keeping his attention on Wendy’s dad and Mr. Davies.

“The man who took me was the same person who was keeping the kids hostage in the woods,” she said. She didn’t know why she was coming to the aid of Mr. Davies, but it was true: He hadn’t done it. Wendy was determined to be the bigger person. There was enough pain and hurt to go around for one night. “When I followed the man earlier tonight and saw his face, I remembered him,” she lied. “It was the same man that had taken me from the woods.”

“You know what the kidnapper looks like?” Detective James asked.

Wendy nodded.

He turned to Mr. Davies. “Donald Davies, turn around slowly and put your hands on your head,” he told him. Mr. Davies gave Wendy one last mournful look before he did as he was told. Detective Rowan put him in handcuffs and dragged him to one of the cop cars.

Wendy knew she would have to give a description of some man she would have to make up. Give more statements, answer more questions. But, right now, she just wanted to get out of the woods.

Mr. Darling didn’t move. He remained glaring at Mr. Davies’s retreating back.

“Dad,” Wendy said gently, tugging on his arm.

He turned to her, and Wendy could see pain, loss, and rage warring in his face. It glistened in his eyes.

“Can we go home now?” she asked in a small voice. “Please?”

Mr. Darling rubbed his nose on the back of his fist. With a stiff nod, he hooked his arm over her shoulders, holding her close to his side as they walked to his car down the road.



* * *



When Wendy and her father walked through the front door, her mother was sitting on the couch, her phone held up to her ear. She jumped and turned to them, the phone sliding from her hand. Mrs. Darling’s brown hair was a rumpled mess. She was still wearing her work scrubs and her eyes were red, the delicate skin around them puffy. Seeing Wendy, she drew a shuddering sigh, her fingers pressing to the base of her throat.

Behind her, the television was on. The screen showed the crowded logging road in the middle of the woods, the camera panning across ambulances, police cars, and yellow tape. There, front and center, were John’s and Michael’s school pictures. The same ones the news had used when they’d first gone missing.

This time, the marquee read: BODIES FOUND.

Mrs. Darling’s voice quaked when she spoke. “They called me.” She blinked and tears spilled down her cheeks. “They think it might be John and Michael?”

Wendy walked past her father to where her mother sat on the couch. Steeling herself, Wendy tried to work up the courage to speak. Her hands opened and closed into fists at her sides. Her palms were slick with sweat. Her parents deserved some sort of explanation, something to make up for or ease the pain, but she didn’t know what to say.

Her mother stared up at her, confusion and worry denting her brow.

With determination, Wendy sucked in a deep breath, but it rattled in her lungs and tightened her chest. She felt her eyes prickle, felt the burn in her throat. “I—” Her face crumpled. An uncontrollable sob choked her.

“I’m so sorry,” Wendy blurted. Fracturing sobs overcame her. “It’s all my f-fault, I’m sorry—I’m so sorry!” The words repeated over and over until they slurred together into nothing. Her body trembled and her chest bucked with cries as she wrapped her arms tightly around her middle.

The sheer shock on her mother’s face softened.

Mrs. Darling’s gentle hands pulled Wendy to her. Her knees sank into the couch and Mrs. Darling gathered her close. Wendy’s body went rigid at first. She didn’t know the last time her mother had touched her like this, couldn’t even remember how it felt. But Mrs. Darling tucked the top of Wendy’s head under her chin and wrapped her arms around her. Her hand rubbed her back in long, slow strokes. She hummed softly into Wendy’s ear and everything in Wendy released.

She collapsed against her mom, clutching Mrs. Darling as she cried into her shoulder. Spit and tears soaked into the green scrubs.

“I’m so sorry,” Wendy choked out. “It’s my fault— I was supposed to be watching them— I was there—” Grief squeezed her like a vice. “I saw it happen— I couldn’t remember— I couldn’t— It’s because of me we aren’t a family anymore—”