Page 11 of Twice Missing
Noah navigated the twists of Route 86. The weight of the morning’s events pressed on his mind as he turned onto Connery Pond Road, the dirt track a well-worn path back home. The Bronco jolted over the rough terrain, the old logging road echoing the rugged character of the Adirondacks.
As he drove, the silhouettes of the Sentinel Range to the east and Whiteface Mountain to the north emerged against the sky, standing guard over the sleeping wilderness. The frozen expanse of High Peaks Lake stretched out before him, a mirror of ice reflecting the starlit sky.
Noah's prefabricated house came into view, its weathered cedar exterior blending seamlessly with the surrounding forest. Large windows, now dark, promised panoramic views of the lake and forest beyond in the daylight.
Nearby, the cozy log cabin of his neighbor, Ed Baxter, stood as a contrast to Noah's more modern dwelling.
The only sound breaking the winter stillness was the howling wind, its mournful cry a fitting backdrop to Noah's exhaustion. He pulled up to the house, relief washing over him at the prospect of sleep. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw Mia and Ethan, both fast asleep in the back seat. A small smile tugged at his lips.
"Hey guys, wake up," he called softly. At sixteen and fifteen, the days of carrying them into the house were long past. Mia stirred first, shaking Ethan awake. The two teenagers stumbled out of the car, bleary-eyed and silent, heading towards the house with the practiced ease of those accustomed to irregular routines.
As Noah stepped out of the Bronco, an unfamiliar truck parked outside Ed's cabin caught his eye. Lights blazed from within, and as Noah walked towards his own home, raised voices carried on the wind. At first, he assumed Ed was having a heated phone conversation, but a glance through the window revealed the old man pacing, shouting at someone out of view.
Suddenly, the cabin door burst open. A woman and a child emerged, casting a quick glance in Noah's direction before hurrying to the truck. As they peeled away, Ed's voice boomed after them, "If you don't want to listen, then don't come back!"
Noah tossed his keys to Mia. "Let yourself in, I'll be back in a minute," he said, changing course to check on his neighbor.
"Everything okay, Ed?" Noah called as he approached.
Ed whirled around, his face flushed with anger. "No.Everything is not okay. Why do people ask such a stupid question?" he snapped, turning back towards his cabin.
"You want to—" Noah began, but Ed slammed the door before he could finish. The behavior was so out of character for the usually laid-back old-timer that Noah found himself momentarily stunned. Ed could be fiery at times, but his complaints typically centered on the weather, government policies, or city bylaws. This level of personal anger was unprecedented.
Too exhausted to pursue the matter further, Noah made his way back to his own house. Inside, he found Ethan had already gone to his room, but Mia was in the kitchen, the kettle whistling as she prepared hot chocolate.
"Is it true they've found Emily Carter?" Mia asked without preamble.
Noah raised an eyebrow. "Where did you hear that?"
A smirk played at Mia's lips. "I have my sources."
Noah shook his head, both amused and concerned by his daughter's investigative instincts. Mia's determination to follow in the Sutherland family tradition and pursue a career in law enforcement was a source of both pride and worry for Noah. His father Hugh had been thrilled at the prospect of a third generation carrying the badge, but Noah had his reservations.
"Yes," he admitted, dropping his bag and slumping into a chair to remove his boots. "But I don't want you twittering about it."
Mia shot him a confused look. "Twittering?"
"You know, spreading it all over that social platform you guys are always on."
"It's called X now, Dad."
"What is?"
"Twitter. You really are behind the times."
Noah grunted. "Seems so."
"Anyway, you know how news travels in this town," Mia said, stirring her hot chocolate.
"Yeah," Noah replied, his thoughts turning to theAdirondack Daily Enterprise.Maggie had recently sold it to Luther Ashford, who had promptly made Carl McNeal the editor. The combination of Ashford's influence and McNeal's lack of scruples meant that controlling the narrative would be more challenging than ever.
"Wasn't she part of mom's circle of friends?" Mia asked, her voice softening.
"You have a good memory."
Mia's response came with a hint of bitterness. "No, Dad, I was just around a little more than you."
Noah sighed. "You mind dropping the digs?"
