Page 111 of Trapper Road

I kick my toes into the ground, propelling myself deeper. Ahead the darkness seems to expand, it’s not quite so thick and heavy. I kick again, and suddenly the rock above me veers away. I lift my arm and feel emptiness.

I let out a trembling sigh of relief and pull myself all the way into the little opening. Above I can see the slit between the rocks I’d peered through before, a sliver of blue sky beyond. The light that escapes it doesn’t do much against the darkness, and so I pull out my phone and open up the flashlight.

I rear back, knocking my skull against the side of the little cave but not caring. My phone flashlight doesn’t penetrate far but it’s enough to highlight the edge of a worn tennis shoe. The hem of a pair of jeans.

The body — what remains of it — lies on its side, facing away from me. I scan the walls around me. The cave we’re in isn’t terribly large, just big enough for a grown adult to sit without having to slouch. I lean forward, careful not to disturb the area closest to the body as I approach to take a closer look.

Several of the bones are scattered or missing, the handiwork of wild animals, I’m sure. But enough remains that I can tell it was a woman with long dark hair. I’m grateful she’s turned away from me so I don’t have to see her face.

Resting beside her is a plastic baggie held in place by a large rock. Lying next to it is a knife, the blade almost entirely encrusted by something black. I don’t have to touch anything to see the piece of paper inside the baggie, to be able to read some of the words written on it.

It’s a suicide note. And it’s signed Juliette Larson.

35

CONNOR

Vee still isn’t back an hour later when my phone rings. It’s a call from Willa, and I grin, heart already beating faster in anticipation. “Hey you,” I answer.

There’s nothing but the sound of movement, something rustling. “Willa?” I ask, wondering if she’s dialed me by accident.

There’s a thump and a grunt followed by a groan. I sit up in alarm. “Willa?”

I hear panting, a sharp intake of breath. “Connor—” It’s Willa’s voice but there’s something wrong. She sounds desperate, scared.

I bolt to my feet, gripping the phone in both hands. “Willa, are you okay? Where are you?”

“Oh God, Connor, you have to help. It’s Mandy, she’s—” Whatever she says next is drowned out by a loud crackle like the crunch of fallen leaves.

I shout, “Where are you?”

There’s just the sound of running, the crunch of leaves, her heaving breath. It sounds like she’s sprinting through the woods.

“Willa, tell me where you are!” I demand. My heart is screaming, adrenaline flooding my system. “Willa!”

She starts to say, “Sha—” but then the phone cuts off.

I immediately hit redial. It goes straight to voicemail. I try again. And again. And again. None of my calls go through. I throw my phone on the bed in frustration and curse.

The police. My brain finally starts to work, and I realize I need to call the cops. I scramble for my phone and dial 911. I tell them about the call and that I think Willa needs help. They ask a dozen questions, about who I am, my relationship to her, exactly what she said. My brain is scrambling, panic racing through me.

“We’ll send a unit to her house to make a welfare check and speak with her parents,” the operator says.

“You don’t understand!” I shout. “Something’s wrong! I know it.”

“Sir, without additional information, I’m afraid there’s not much more we can do. If you hear from her again—”

I hang up. I’m wasting time. Willa’s out there, and she needs me. And I think I know where to start looking for her.

I bolt from the motel room at a sprint. I have to get to Willa. I have to save her.

36

GWEN

There’s no reception on the hill where I discovered Juliette’s remains, nor anywhere nearby. I’m forced to get back in my car and drive down the road a few miles until my phone finally pings with alerts I’d missed while out of range. I immediately pull to the side of the road and open the location app. Reasonably I know my kids are okay, but there’s always a part of my brain that simmers with panic. Sometimes it boils over. Finding Juliette’s remains didn’t help.

The app loads and takes a moment to locate my kids. I breathe a sigh of relief when Connor and Vee’s icons appear at the motel. I toggle to Lanny and find her at Kez and Javi’s. I close my eyes and let my head fall back. It takes a while for the lingering fear to dissipate, though it never truly vanishes.

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