Magic hour: a novel (49 page)

“You sure about this?” Floyd asked.

“I’m sure.” Ellie took the leash from him.

“Wolf!” Alice cried out, running for them.

The wolf jumped at Alice, knocked her down.

“Are you going to bring him back?” Floyd asked, watching the pair play on the icy grass.

“I don’t think so. He belongs in the wild.”

Floyd’s gaze landed on Alice. “I wonder if he’s the only one.” Then he walked back to his truck and drove away.

Ellie looked down at her watch, then went to her sister, who stood alone now, staring into the forest. “It’s time.”

Julia closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath. Releasing it, she went to Alice and knelt down. “We need to go now, Alice.”

Alice pointed to the muzzle and the leash. “Bad. Trap. Smelly.”

Ellie exchanged a worried look with her sister. Last night they’d decided to use the wolf to help Alice find her way back to her old life. It had seemed less dangerous in the abstract.

“She needs him,” Julia said.

“Okay, but I’ve got to keep the muzzle on.” Ellie bent down and unhooked the leash. The wolf immediately nuzzled up against Alice.

“Cave, Wolf,” the girl whispered, and off they went, the two of them, toward the woods.

“Tell me that’s not a damned
wolf,
” George said, coming up to Ellie.

“Let’s go,” was Ellie’s answer.

By the time the sun crested the trees, they were so far from town that the only noise was their footsteps, crunching through the underbrush, and the silvery bells of the river rushing alongside them.

No one had spoken in more than an hour. In a ragged formation, with Julia and Alice and the wolf in the lead, they kept moving, deeper and deeper into the woods.

The trees grew denser here, and taller, their heavy boughs blocking out most of the light. Every now and then sunlight slanted through to the forest floor; it looked solid, that light, so dappled with motes that you weren’t entirely sure you could walk through it.

And still they went on, toward the heart of this old-growth forest, where the ground was spongy and always damp, where club mosses hung from leafless branches like ghostly sleeves. A pale gray mist clung to the ground, swallowing them all from the knees down.

Around noon they stopped in a tiny clearing for lunch.

Ellie didn’t know about everyone else, but she was uneasy out here. They seemed so small, this band of theirs; it would be too easy to make a wrong turn and simply disappear. The only noise now was the ever constant breeze. It brushed thousands of needles overhead. They heard the rustling long before they felt the cool touch of the wind on their cheeks.

They sat in a rough circle, clustered at the base of a cedar tree so big that they could all hold hands and not make a complete circle around its trunk.

“Where are we?” George asked, stretching out one leg.

Cal unfolded his map. “Best guess? Well past the Hall of Mosses in the park. Not far from Wonderland Falls, I think. Who knows? A lot of this area isn’t surveyed.”

“Are we lost?” George asked.

“She’s not,” Ellie said, getting to her feet again. “Let’s go.”

They walked for another few hours, but it was slow going. Thick undergrowth and curtains of hanging moss blocked their way. At a clearing beneath a quartet of giant trees, they made camp for the night, pitching their Day-Glo orange pup tents around the fire.

All the while, as they set up camp and cooked their supper from cans, no one said much of anything. By nightfall the sounds of the forest were overwhelming. There was endless scurrying and dropping and cawing. Only Alice and her wolf seemed at ease. Here, in all this green murkiness, Alice moved easier, walked taller. It gave them all a glimpse of who she would someday become, when she felt at home in the world of people.

Long after everyone else had gone to bed, Ellie stayed up. Sitting by the river’s edge, she stared out at the black woods, wondering how Alice had made this trek alone.

She heard a twig snap behind her and she turned.

It was Julia, looking worn and tired. “Is this the insomniacs meeting place?”

Ellie scooted sideways, making room for her sister on the moss-furred nurse log. On either side of them fragile green sword ferns quivered at the movement of their bodies.

They sat side by side; at their feet, the river rushed by, almost invisible in the darkness. The night air smelled rich and green. Overhead, the Milky Way appeared in patches between the trees and clouds.

“How’s Alice doing?” Ellie asked. It flashed through her mind that soon they’d have to start calling her Brittany. Another in a long line of things they didn’t want to face.

“Sleeping peacefully. She’s completely at ease out here.”

“It’s her hometown, I guess. Her own backyard.”

“Is she leading us somewhere . . . or just walking?”

“I don’t know.”

“I hope we’re doing the right thing.” Julia’s voice cracked on that.

They fell silent; both of them questioning their choices. Ellie wanted to avoid talking about George, but out here, where there was nothing but her and her sister and the night sky, it was easy to see things more clearly. “Have you seen how George looks at her?” Ellie said the words quietly, in case he was awake and listening. Hopefully the sound of the river would drown out their voices.

“Yes,” Julia answered. There was a pause before she said, “He looks like a man with a broken heart. Every time she ignores him or turns away, he winces.”

“It’s making me nervous. What if we find—”

“I know.” Julia leaned against her. “Whatever happens, El, I couldn’t have handled it without you.”

Ellie slipped an arm around her baby sister and drew her close. “Yeah, me too.”

Behind them a twig snapped.

Ellie jerked around.

George stood there, his hands jammed in his pockets. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, walking toward them.

Ellie studied him. “I guess only Alice can.”

George stared out at the forest. Quietly, not looking at them, he said, “I’m afraid of what we’ll find.”

If it was an act, it was Oscarworthy. Ellie glanced at Julia and saw the worry in her sister’s eyes. So Julia saw it, too. “Yeah,” Ellie finally said, tightening her hold on Julia. “We’re all afraid.”

E
LLIE WOKE AT DAWN AND STARTED THE FIRE.
I
N A HEAVY SILENCE THEY
ate breakfast and broke down camp. By first light they were on their way again, fighting through deeper, denser undergrowth, pushing through spiderwebs as taut as fishing wire. It was just past noon when Alice stopped suddenly.

In this shadowy world of towering, centuries-old trees and ever present mist, the little girl looked impossibly small and afraid. Looking at Julia, she pointed upriver. “No Alice go.”

Julia picked Alice up, held her tightly. “You’re a very brave little girl.” To Ellie, she said, “Make good notes and take pictures. I need to know everything. And be careful.”

Julia carried Alice over to the base of a behemoth cedar tree. They sat down on the soft carpet of moss at its feet. The wolf padded to their side and laid down.

Ellie looked ahead, into the green and black shadows that lay ahead. Cal, Earl, George, and his lawyer came up beside her, one by one. No one said a word. It took a surge of courage to move forward, to lead them all deeper into the woods, but she did it.

They followed the river around a bend and over a hill and found themselves in a man-made clearing. Stumps created a perimeter; fallen logs were the boundaries. Empty tin cans were everywhere, lying on the hard ground, their silvery sides furred by moss and mold. There were hundreds of them—years’ worth. Old magazines and books and other kinds of garbage lay in a heap beside the cave. Not far away, tucked back in a grove of red cedar trees, was a small, shake lean-to with no door.

To the left a dark cave yawned at them, its open mouth decorated with ferns that grew at impossible angles, their lacy fronds fluttering in the breeze. In front of it a shiny silver stake had been driven into the ground. A nylon rope lay coiled around it; one end was attached to the stake by a metal loop.

Ellie knelt by the stake. At the end of the ragged nylon rope was a leather cuff that had been chewed off. The cuff was small—just big enough to encircle a child’s ankle. Black blotches stained the leather.
Blood.
She closed her eyes for a split second and wished she hadn’t. In the darkness of her thoughts she saw little Alice, staked out here. It had been the girl’s small, bare feet that had worn the circular grove in the dirt. How long had she been out here, going round and round this stake?

Cal bent down beside her, touched her. She waited for him to say something, but he just squeezed her shoulder.

Slowly, Ellie pushed to her feet. “Gloves on, everyone.” Then she made the mistake of looking at George.

“Jesus,” he said, his face pale, his mouth trembling. “Someone tied her up like a damned
dog
? How—”

“Don’t—” Ellie could feel the tears streaking down her cheeks; it was unprofessional, but inevitable. “Let’s go,” she said to Cal.

In a silence so thick it was hard to walk through and harder to breathe in, Ellie conducted her first true crime scene search. They found a pile of woman’s clothes, a single red patent leather high heel, a blood-spattered knife, a box of half-finished dreamcatchers, and a small ratty baby blanket so dirty they couldn’t be certain what color it had once been. Appliquéd daisies hung askew from the trim.

When George saw the blanket he made a strangled, desperate sound. “Oh my God . . .”

Ellie didn’t dare look at him. She was hanging on by a thread here. If the look on George’s face matched the sound of his voice, she’d lose it. “Catalogue everything, Earl,” she said.

Behind the lean-to was another stake with another leather ankle strap; this one was bigger; it too was caked with dried blood. Someone else had been staked out here. An adult.

Zoë.

“She couldn’t even
see
her daughter,” Ellie whispered. Zoë’s rope was longer; it allowed her to reach the mattress in the lean-to.

Cal touched her again. “Keep moving.”

She nodded, hearing the thickness in his voice; it matched the stinging in her eyes. She moved forward slowly, studying everything from the pile of junk by an old moss-furred stump to the dirty, stained mattress that lay between two Douglas firs. There were animal signs everywhere—this camp had been vacant for a long time; the scavengers had come in.

Back in the trees, not far from the dirty mattress, Ellie found an old trunk, rusted almost shut. It took her a few tries, but she finally opened it. Inside she found piles of old Spokane newspaper clippings—most of them were about prostitutes who’d disappeared from the city streets and never been found. The last clipping was dated November 7, 1999. There were also several guns and a blood-encrusted arm sling.

Down at the bottom, buried beneath the bandages and newspapers and dirty silverware, was a yellow plastic raincoat and a ratty Batman baseball cap.

Behind her George let out an anguished cry. “He
saw
it. That flower delivery guy saw the kidnapper parked in front of my house.”

Ellie didn’t turn around; she couldn’t see George right now. But she heard him drop to his knees in the muddy dirt.

“If they’d listened, maybe they could have found them before he did . . . this. Oh my
God.
”

When he started to cry, Ellie closed her eyes. She’d done her job, found the truth.

But it wasn’t the truth she’d wanted to find.

A
LICE’S HEART IS POUNDING IN HER CHEST.
S
HE KNOWS SHE SHOULD
RUN! But she can’t leave Jewlee.

Still, she hears the voices here. The leaves and the trees and the river. These are the sounds she remembers, and though there is fear in her chest, there is something else, something that makes her get to her feet.

Wolf brushes up against her, loving her. Not far away, his pack is standing together, waiting for his return. This Alice knows. She can hear their padding footsteps and growling at one another; these are the sounds below, softer than the rustling leaves and the rushing water. The sounds of life that fill all this darkness.

She bends down. It takes a long time, but she finally frees Wolf from the smelly, icky trap on his face and around his neck.

He looks up at her in perfect understanding.

She feels sad at the thought of losing him again, but a wolf needs his family.

“Fwee,” she whispers.

He howls and licks her face.

“’Bye,” she whispers.

Then he is gone.

Alice looks back up at Jewlee, feeling such a swelling in her heart that it almost hurts. She knows what she wants to tell Jewlee, but she doesn’t have the words. She takes Jewlee’s hand, leads her well around the place (she doesn’t want to see the cave again; oh no). They climb over one of the trees Him cut down and push through a patch of stinging nettles.