All the Missing Girls

by Megan Miranda

  “She’s had them for the last five years!”

  “Is that—”

  “What do you think, Tyler? Of course it is.” I choked on a sob. “What the hell is she doing on my porch?”

  But wasn’t that what Dad had told me when I asked? She was on the back porch, but just for a moment . . .

  “Whose shadow is that?” I asked. Wondering whether my dad was the one who put her on the porch, or whether he knew about it from the pictures. Because if it wasn’t Dad, then it was—

  “Nic?” The front door swung open and I dove for the pictures, brushing them back into a pile on the table as Daniel walked in.

  “What the hell is going on?” he asked.

  Tyler rubbed his face, looked between the two of us. “He was sitting next to me at the bar,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should go,” I said, my back to the table, desperately hiding the pictures.

  “Nic. Move away from the table,” Daniel said.

  But I thought of the shadow, which could’ve been from one of two people. “Go home to Laura,” I said. We were all about to break open. The final crack. It was time to understand.

  The line between Daniel’s eyes deepened, and his steps took on a slow and dreamy quality, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to walk over and see what was on the kitchen table. He reached around me, picked up a photo off the top, narrowed his eyes as he twisted it back and forth in front of his face. “What is this?” he asked. Then, louder, “What is this?,” like it was my fault. And then Tyler was pushing Daniel out of my face, and I was pushing Tyler, because I had to do something.

  “It’s pictures of Corinne!” I yelled back, tears stinging my eyes.

  Daniel stared at the picture, his hand trembling, and his eyes slowly, slowly, rose to meet my own. We stared at each other over the dark corner of that photo. Even now I had trouble asking. Silently, I mouthed: You?

  He shook his head just once.

  Tyler turned around and looked at Daniel over his shoulder, then at me. “Who is this?” he asked, pointing to the shadow.

  “It’s Dad,” Daniel said.

  It had to be, because otherwise, it was him.

  “Did you know about this?” I asked.

  “No,” Daniel said, frowning at the other pictures. “No, I swear.”

  The woods have eyes.

  “Where did you get these?” he asked.

  Tyler was silent, staring across the lawn, deep into the woods.

  “Annaleise Carter,” I said.

  Daniel’s face hardened. “Burn them,” he said.

  “She has a flash drive,” I said. “Dad paid before. And now she wants me to pay. She sent a text to Officer Stewart asking about Corinne, said I had until he saw it to make up my mind. I had to say yes.” I felt the tears rising again, and I fought them back down.

  Daniel dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Okay, tell me. What does she want?”

  “Ten to stay quiet. She’ll give us the flash drive for twenty.”

  “Thousand?” Daniel barked. “How the hell does she think we can get twenty thousand dollars?”

  Tyler looked down at the floor, but not before I stared at him for too long. “Because, Daniel. We’re selling the house. Everyone knows.”

  “We need the money,” Daniel said. “We can’t afford to pay her off and pay for Dad.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?” he asked.

  Great. We were going to start fighting about something that had nothing to do with the pictures of a dead Corinne Prescott. We were going to fight about how I didn’t understand basic finances, how I’d checked out of family affairs for the last ten years, how I’d left all the responsibility to him, like always.

  “These are just pictures,” Tyler said. “And really hard-to-see pictures. They don’t prove anything.”

  “Except they’re enough to investigate,” I said.

  “Okay, okay,” Daniel said, pacing the room. “Well, we have some time. Even after we get an offer on the house, it can take months to close. Buy us some wiggle room. I’ll talk to her. We’ll talk to Dad. We’ll figure something out.”

  I started laughing, my chest heaving, my eyes tearing over. I held up my left hand. “She gave me two weeks. And she took my ring.”

  “What?” Tyler yelled.

  “Yep. As insurance, she said. Thinks maybe I’ll get her the money faster. Thinks I won’t report it missing.”

  “How much is it worth?” Tyler asked.

  “You’re not serious. I can’t just tell her to sell it and keep the money. It’s appraised and insured, and trust me, Everett’s not just going to let it go.”

  “Everett,” Tyler mumbled.

  “Really, Tyler,” I said, “she thinks I have money because of you.”

  “This is ridiculous. It isn’t like her,” Tyler said.

  “Are you sure? What’s she like, then?”

  We all have two faces. I learned that from Corinne.

  “Call her,” Daniel said.

  “What?” The panic made my voice too high, too tight.

  “Call her. Get her over here. This shit ends now,” Daniel said.

  “Oh, right,” I said. “ ‘Hey, baby, you know how you’ve been blackmailing the Farrells? Can we talk about that?’”

  Tyler stared right at me as he pressed his phone to his ear. “Hey,” he said. “Did I wake you?” He lowered his eyes from mine and left the room. “I know it’s late. I’m sorry. I’ve got a favor to ask.” More pacing. “I left my truck at the Farrells’ place so Dan could cart some stuff to the dump in the morning. I left the keys, but now I’m thinking I might’ve left my wallet. I can’t find it.” He leaned his forehead against the window while he listened. “Can you drive it over if it’s there? Do you want me to stay on the line? Okay. Thanks.”

  He hung up. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but it was happening now, whether we were ready for it or not. The three of us clumped into the kitchen.

  “Turn off the lights,” Daniel said.

  Tyler came up behind me in the darkness. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “Let’s go,” Daniel said.

  * * *

  I SAW HER COMING from the corner of the house I was pressed against, her purse slung over her shoulder, in yoga pants with her hair in a ponytail, as if she’d just rolled out of bed. She had a flashlight, and she strode across the backyard, around the side, straight for the driveway. I saw the moment she realized: when she noticed not only Tyler’s truck but Daniel’s car behind it. She slowed and stopped, and I could sense her debating. She took a tentative step back.

  “Wait,” I said. I had circled behind her, and Tyler was standing beside the truck. He opened the door, switching on the overhead light so we could see each other better. I could make out her outline but not her face—couldn’t tell whether she was surprised or scared, pissed or sad. I couldn’t see Daniel at all.

  She whipped her head back and forth between me and Tyler. “What the hell?” she said, but she knew. She knew exactly what the hell.

  “You made a mistake,” Tyler said. “The ring. Give it back.”

  She hitched her purse up on her shoulder, folded her arms across her stomach. “Did she tell you?” she asked. “About the pictures?”

  “You made a mistake,” he repeated.

  “Seriously, Tyler?” She looked over her shoulder. “Where’s Dan? Why am I not surprised? Are you out here, too?” she said. And then louder, “You know what I realized? You all lied that night, didn’t you? All of you. You have to know. You’re all covering for someone.”

  I saw Tyler’s head snap up, his whole body wound tight.

  “Those pictures don’t prove anything. But blackmail is illegal,” I said.

  �
��That’s what anonymous letters are for,” she said. “Anonymous packages with pictures of a dead girl on your back porch.”

  “Give me the ring, and give me the flash drive, and I’ll pretend you didn’t suck my father’s life away.”

  “Really, Nic? You’ll just . . . let it go? Why’s that?”

  “Annaleise, cut the shit. Give her the fucking ring, and get the fuck out of our lives,” Tyler said.

  Our lives.

  She laughed, mean and sharp. “Tyler, be real. One of the Farrells is a murderer.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said. “You can’t prove anything with grainy pictures that were probably doctored, with no time stamp. You know what you can prove? Blackmail. You’ve been taking money from a confused, mentally impaired man for years. There goes your future, Annaleise.”

  “You can’t prove that, either. But you know what is proof? A body. Ever think of that?”

  I froze. She was on the back porch, but just for a moment. Where did she go? Where did he take her? “You stole my ring. I can prove that.”

  There was a noise behind her, from the edge of the woods, and she spun just as Daniel emerged from the trees. “We’ll work it out. But not like this,” he said. Always the reasonable one, always the responsible one.

  “Oh, look at you, all self-righteous. You’re such a fucking hypocrite.”

  “Give her the ring back and we’ll talk,” Daniel said.

  Her body was rigid. We were at an impasse. Two crimes, and neither of us could call the police without dragging out the other. “I don’t have it on me,” she said, hitching up the strap on her designer purse.

  Daniel nodded. “Then let’s go get it.”

  “Fine,” she said, slowly moving away from us. She walked a few steps ahead of Daniel, with me and Tyler trailing behind, his hand on my lower back, promising me, Everything’s okay, everything’s working out, we’ve got this all under control. I don’t know whether it was that three of us were following her and she was scared, or if she felt her options running out, felt her world and her future growing smaller, but she stepped into the tree line—the crunch of a branch, the darkness like a cloak—and she ran.

  “Fuck,” said Tyler as he took off after her.

  “Wait here, Nic,” Daniel said, and he took off through the woods at another angle.

  I stood on the hill in sight of both our houses—dark, except for the light from Tyler’s truck. I sneaked closer to hers so I could see her front door better. And I listened to the woods. For the monsters and the demons and the eyes. For a struggle, or a whisper, or a scream.

  I crouched down when I heard footsteps slowly coming toward me. My muscles twitching, ready to snap.

  “Nic?”

  I relaxed at the sound of Tyler’s voice. “Up here,” I said. “Did you find her?”

  “No. You?”

  I shook my head as he crouched beside me, watching her house.

  It was another twenty minutes before Daniel came back from the other direction. “I lost her,” he said, reaching out one hand as if grasping a ghost. “Got as far as the river, and then I lost her.”

  “She’ll be back,” Tyler said.

  “Go,” I said to Daniel. “Go home to Laura.”

  Daniel checked his watch and frowned. “Call me when she comes back.” He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets as he walked away.

  “You, too,” I said to Tyler. “Go home. I’ll watch for her.”

  “Nah,” he said, sitting beside me on top of the hill. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  * * *

  WE STAYED THERE UNTIL sunup, but she didn’t come back.

  Back in my kitchen, I made a pot of coffee while Tyler paced. “Fuck. Fuck,” he said.

  I stared out the window, biting my nail. That feeling like static, like something thrumming, pressing down on us, was thick in the air—the feeling that something was about to happen. And we were waiting for it. Sirens, the police, a phone call from her, just something. I started a fire, threw the pictures into the flames, watched as they bubbled and curled, willing them to disappear faster. When nothing had happened by the time Daniel stopped by on his way to work, I started to think that maybe it wouldn’t.

  “Anything?” Daniel asked.

  “She’s not back,” I said. “What did you tell Laura?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Never got the chance. When I didn’t come home, she left. Probably went to stay at her sister’s. God. Now she’s giving me the silent treatment.”

  “Just tell her you stayed here,” I said.

  “And what was so wrong with you that I had to stay here?” he asked.

  I sighed. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  “Goddammit,” he said, running his hand through his hair. Then he cursed repeatedly under his breath, gripped the edge of the table, breathing deeply, getting himself under control. “We need to talk to Dad.”

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  “You need to be careful,” he said, and I understood. I couldn’t let it become something Dad fixated on, couldn’t let him get lost in it, couldn’t let him work himself up about this. I had to graze the surface, come at it from the side, ask him about it in pieces.

  “Go to work,” I said. “Both of you. Everything’s normal. Everything’s fine. Only call if you know something.”

  I watched Annaleise’s empty apartment until noon. Watched as her mother knocked on the door and knocked again. Watched as she took a key from her pocket and let herself inside. Until she came back out, standing in the entrance, her phone in her hand, staring at the ground. I watched until the very moment she realized her daughter was gone.

  * * *

  MY BODY WAS ON edge the entire car ride to Grand Pines, my muscles twitching with too much energy, even though I hadn’t slept since the day before. I couldn’t feel my feet; they tingled with heaviness.

  I gave my name at the entrance and was escorted by a young male aide to Dad’s empty room.

  “He wanders,” the aide said. “Probably out in the courtyard. It’s a beautiful day. Hear we’re getting some nasty storms tomorrow, though.” He was leaning against the window beside me, and I saw him looking me over in the reflection. His gaze flicked down to my hand. “Hi,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Andrew. I work here.” His eyes were blue, and he was probably younger than I was, and he had a nice smile that probably had the same effect everywhere.

  “Nicolette,” I said. “I live in Philadelphia, actually.”

  “Shame,” he said. “You in town for a while?”

  “No,” I said. I pointed out the window. “There.” Dad was reading a book on a bench near the edge of the courtyard, his elbows resting on his brown pants, like he was deep in thought, searching the words for more meaning. “Thanks for your help, Andrew.” I forced myself to flash him a smile as I left the room.

  Out in the courtyard, a few women sat around a café table with lunch in Styrofoam boxes. Two men were playing chess. A few people were pacing in what appeared to be slow, endless circles around the perimeter. I settled in beside my father on the bench. “Hi, Dad,” I said.

  He pulled his face out of the book, glancing in my direction.

  “What are you reading?” I asked.

  “Nabokov,” he said, showing me the cover. “For next semester.”

  He wasn’t here. But he wasn’t far.

  I cleared my throat, watching him from the corner of my eye. “Yesterday,” I said, “you told me you saw my friend Corinne. A long time ago. On the back porch.”

  “Did I tell you that? I don’t remember that.” He ran his thumb over the page edges, fanning them slowly.

  “Yes,” I said. “I was just wondering . . . I was just wondering if you knew how she got there.”

  He didn’t answer, his head still in the book. But his eyes w
eren’t moving across the lines; they were staring, his mind elsewhere. “I was drinking too much,” he said.

  “I know you were. It’s okay.”

  “I mean, I went to get you. I got a call. About you. My daughter and some stunt on the Ferris wheel. I said I couldn’t come. But I did. I got mad, and I got in the car, and I drove, because it was all escalating, and it had finally come to this.” He put the book down and squeezed his eyes. “You were pushing more and more because I never stopped you. I never did. So I got in the car. I was going to be a dad.”

  I started shaking my head because I didn’t like where this was going. And it was too much. Too direct. Nowhere to hide for either of us.

  “So I got to that bend before the caverns, and I thought: This isn’t how to be a dad. Driving drunk. This isn’t how. So I pulled over. I just . . . pulled over.”

  “Where, Dad?” It came out as a choked whisper.

  “Just before the caverns, there’s this access road, a dead end. I pulled in and I parked.” He looked over at me. “Don’t cry, doll. I wasn’t in a good state. I needed some air. I just needed some air.”

  He needed to stop.

  “I had the windows rolled down—I just needed to sleep it off.” He folded his hands in his lap, his fingers drumming against his knuckles. “I heard people yelling . . .”

  I had to know. It was time. “Dad,” I said. “What did you do?”

  I felt his body tense, parts of him twitch. “What do you mean?” He looked around, narrowing his eyes. “This place is a rabbit hole,” he said.

  And Corinne was the rabbit. We followed her down, down, down, and she left us here.

  Then, to me: “I don’t like it here. You need to go. I want you to go now. Nic, you need to leave.”

  I stood, the air too heavy, his words like static. My memories, spinning and blurring like our pictures, like our ghosts. I couldn’t look him in the eye when I left.

  * * *

  TYLER’S TRUCK WAS IN my driveway, but he wasn’t in the house. I found him around back, sitting on the edge of the porch, his feet on the grass. “Anything?” I asked.