The Boy from the Woods(39)
“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 has 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?”