"My glowing girl," Margot murmured, tracing the line of Meredith's face in the picture. "That summer she was so happy. She'd aced all of her classes, talked her dad into paying for horse-riding lessons, and her cousin, Allie, my sister's daughter, was coming to visit for two weeks in August. They lived in Georgia. This was taken just days before.” Margot held up a photo of her daughter sitting on a park bench eating an ice cream cone. Meredith’s hair was arranged in a side ponytail. She wore bright yellow and pink high-top sneakers. “She begged us for those shoes for her thirteenth birthday. She was wearing them when she disappeared.”
"Can you tell us what you remember about that day?" Ben took out his notebook and pen.
"Sure. I remember that day better than any that has come since or before. It's burned in my mind. It was a Thursday. The kids were on summer break. My son Mickey was at camp up at Crystal Lake near Frankfort. Cal, my husband, worked for the gas company. He was out that day like usual and I was home with my youngest, Bernadette. She'd turned four the previous March. Meredith had a girlfriend come over, Annie Miller. They'd been building a fort in the woods nearby. They gathered up a hammer and nails. I gave them my usual 'don't leave your dad's tools in the woods or he'll tan your hide’ lecture. Meredith gave Bernie, that's what we call Bernadette, a kiss on the forehead and promised she'd play with her later. Bernie hated it when Meredith left. She loved her big sister so much. Off they went, and I never saw her again."
"When did you realize she was missing?"
"Four thirty-three. I remember looking at the clock just a minute or two before Annie walked through the door thinking they'd been gone an awful long time, but I wasn't worried. In those days, kids would go off all day, but usually they'd run in and out, come back for popsicles or snacks, but that day they didn't. Annie came in and asked if Meredith was home. I said, ‘No, isn't she with you?’ Then Annie got scared and started to cry. She said they'd been playing hide-and-seek and got separated. It had been more than an hour since Annie had seen Meredith. She'd walked through the woods calling her name, but couldn’t find her."
"Did you call the police?"
"Oh, God, no. Not right away. In those days, you just didn't jump to those kinds of conclusions. I thought she got turned around out there. We waited at the house for another half hour, then I called my mother and asked her to come and watch Bernie while I went back to the woods with Annie. I felt sick in my stomach. I didn't realize what it meant then, that my girl was gone, but later I did. We searched until my back and feet were screaming, then we walked home. I called Cal and asked him to come back, and I called Annie's parents and asked them to come pick her up. By nightfall we had fifty people in those woods.”
Margot picked up the framed photograph of Meredith and smoothed her fingers along the gilded edges.
“You realize grief is a marathon. If you're going to survive you can't spend it all in a day. The problem is you don't get to choose. It pours out of you, it renders you hunched over and gasping for breath, but on you go and go and go. We've been running with this grief for twenty-five years, the hope passing like sand through our fingers, but even now, more than two decades later, if I unfurl my palm, I see a pebble or two remains."
"We both know how that feels," Ben said. "We didn't lose a child. That seems unimaginable. But we both lost close friends, and you never stop hoping that someday—"
"She'll walk through the door," Margot murmured, looking toward the hallway that led to the front door. "But of course, she never did. The police didn't start a search until four days after she vanished. We were furious. My husband walked into the station and screamed and hollered and they almost arrested him. They thought she'd run off and Annie had helped her and they'd created the whole story about a fort in the woods to give her time to get away.
“Utter nonsense. What thirteen-year-old girl runs away with nothing but the clothes on her back? Her little Thundercats wallet with three dollars in it was sitting on her dresser. She'd never have run off. Meredith was such a good girl."
"Were there ever any suspects, Margot?" Ben asked.
"Suspects…" she murmured, lifting her own tea and sipping it. "No. There was never anything at all, never a trace of what happened to her. In so many cases there are sightings, there's a shoe left behind, a toy, some evidence of something. Not with Meredith. It was as if she vanished into air.”
“How about rumors around town?” Ben asked. “I don’t mean to push the subject. It’s just that people usually talk.”
“I did hear a disturbing story after she went missing, but it wasn’t about Meredith. It was about the woods. A guy I'd gone to high school with, Adam, told me about a scary experience he had in those same woods as a boy.
“He said that he and his sister Georgina were walking in the Manistee Forest looking for morel mushrooms. It was the season, late spring, and there'd been a week of rain followed by hot humid days, perfect weather for those little critters to start popping up. They were excited, took out their paper bags hoping to find the mushrooms. He said they hadn't walked for more than fifteen minutes when they both got really tired. He related it to the way he's felt when he's had medical procedures as an adult where he was given anesthesia. He said it was the feeling when the sedative is just starting to take you under. They both ended up sitting down against a tree and falling asleep.
“It was after dark when he woke up to the sound of Georgina crying. She'd had a dream that something was chasing her through the woods. She stood and started running and ran smack into a big oak tree. Shattered her nose, broke one of her eye sockets, if that tells you how hard she was running, how scared she was. Adam's dad belted him that night. He thought Adam had scared Georgina, but Adam also sensed that his dad was frightened of the woods. He'd lived there since a boy and his daddy before him. He was always telling Adam and Georgina to stay on the edge, not go too far in, but their mother would override him while he was at work and say, ‘You kids go play, just be home before Dad gets back.’ And they always were, except for that day."
"Did Adam say what Georgina dreamed was chasing her?" Lori asked. Her legs had begun to shake beneath the table, causing their teacups to clink against the plates. Lori steadied them.
Margot shook her head. "He said they talked about it a lot those first weeks, but Georgina couldn't put her finger on it. Something that wanted to eat her. That's all she could remember."
Lori felt cold all over.
"That's a pretty dark story to share with someone whose daughter disappeared in the woods," Ben said.
"Yeah, he didn't want to tell me. I forced it out of him. Then afterwards I wished I hadn't," Margot admitted. "I had terrible nightmares about Meredith running from whatever it was that had been chasing Georgina."
"Was she wearing anything that made a sound that day?" Lori asked. "Something with a bell on it?"
Margot frowned and shook her head. "No, nothing that I can think of. The girls were into toe rings back then. She might have had one of those on, but I'm really not sure."
"Does the name Hector Dunn mean anything to you?" Ben asked.
Margot looked at him, surprised. "Well, sure. He was our handyman for ten years. I used to see his mother from time to time at the church potlucks over in Luther. That's how we found Hector. He did work for us on occasion—painted the shed, trimmed back the trees, nothing extraordinary. His mother Pearl passed on a few years ago. Why do you ask?"
Lori could see a vein pulsing in Ben's neck and he held his teacup so tightly in his hands, she thought it might shatter. He set it down carefully.
Margot looked at him, puzzled, a frown creasing her thin mouth. "Hector hasn't been implicated in some way, has he?"
"We've found links between Hector Dunn and multiple girls who have vanished from the Manistee National Forest."
Margot blinked at him and then looked at Lori, who reluctantly nodded to confirm his statement.
"What sorts of links?"
"He was in the area or knew fa
mily members of victims. He was also arrested for trying to abduct a girl on a bicycle a year after my friend Summer disappeared in the woods. She was fourteen. She was never seen again.”
"Hector? He was always such a nice man, quiet. He loved the kids…" Margot’s frown deepened.
"Did he show a special interest in Meredith?" Ben asked.
The color drained from Margot's face and for a long moment she stared at the garden beyond the window. Finally, she nodded. "He brought her gifts sometimes. Little trinkets." She turned suddenly to look at Lori. "Earrings once. Little red and green Christmas bells."
"Was she wearing them that day?" Lori asked.
Margot shook her head. "No. I still have them somewhere in Meredith's stuff. It's all boxed up in the loft over the garage."
“That was proof positive it’s Hector,” Ben said as they drove back to Clare. “I’m going to write something up tonight that details everything we’ve found that points to him. Zander’s brother is a cop. I’m thinking he can suggest a detective who might be interested in digging deeper.”
"There's something unusual about the Manistee Forest, Ben, something we can't explain."
He glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
"People getting disoriented, walking in one spot then suddenly in another. That girl’s nightmare of something chasing her, her and her brother falling asleep in the woods. It all implies… I don't know. Something supernatural, maybe."
"I disagree,” Ben said. “I think it points to pollution and toxicity. I mean, take a look at industrialized America pre-1970s, before the EPA started regulating what factories could dump into the ground and water. In all those cities around the Manistee National Forest there were factories dumping their waste. Paper mills, paint factories, salt plants. The list goes on. That stuff doesn't just magically disappear. Instead, it seeps into the ground water. Get enough of it accumulating down there and percolating for a few decades and poof, you've got some kind of noxious gas rising up from the earth that no one is aware of."
"That might explain the disoriented stuff, but it doesn't explain the disappearances."
"Because there's a man behind those, Hector Dunn. Who knows, maybe he's aware that the forest is polluted and people get off kilter when they go in there. Maybe that's why it's his hunting ground."
“I really don’t think so.”
“Lori, I’m talking cold hard facts here and you keep reaching for something from a fairytale.”
“I met with a woman in Grand Rapids a few days ago, a Jungian Analyst who studies folklore. She’s collected stories from right here in Michigan, stories about child abductions in the Manistee National Forest that happened decades ago, long before Hector Dunn was alive.”
“Of course there were. Look at any city in the history of the world and you’ll find murders and abductions. That doesn’t mean something supernatural is at work.”
“There’s something wrong in those woods.”
"I hope you're not setting up an excuse to get out of our trip to the forest tomorrow."
Lori scowled. “Tomorrow? What are you talking about?”
He cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, tomorrow, your thirtieth birthday."
Lori shook her head. She'd honestly forgotten about his insistence that they visit the woods on her birthday. "I'm thinking I'd rather spend the day eating ice cream in bed, plus my mom and grandma are making dinner—”
“We’ll go after. Why don’t I join you for dinner? I’d like to meet the woman behind these fabulous muffins.” He kept one hand on the wheel while opening the Tupperware and taking out another muffin. He winked at her.
“You can come to dinner, but afterward we should just go catch a movie or maybe play putt-putt golf.”
"Not a chance, birthday girl,” he told her, setting his muffin down so he could squeeze her knee. “Tomorrow we're facing some fears."
34
"This is thirty," Lori murmured, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror.
She looked the same, much as she'd looked the same on every birthday for the entirety of her life. But she felt different. Maybe it was the anticipation of the day ahead, in particular the hike in the woods off Tanglewood Drive. Maybe it was the recent events that had her feeling her life had been tossed into a washing machine on spin-cycle.
She'd slept late, read in bed for an hour and made a single serving of pancakes. Now, as she left, she kissed Matilda on the head, and gazed longingly at her bay window before leaving her apartment.
As she opened her driver’s door, a voice rang out behind her. "Lori, wait. Happy birthday!" Stu jumped out of his car, a bundle of daisies wrapped in purple crepe paper held in his hand. "Happy thirtieth," he said, jogging across the street to her and holding out the flowers.
"Thanks, Stu." She grabbed the flowers and tossed them onto her passenger seat as she climbed behind the wheel and slammed the door.
He opened his mouth, but she ignored him, started the car, shifted into drive and pulled away. She glanced at him, open-mouthed in the rearview mirror, and grinned.
"Catch ya next time, Stu," she said to his reflection.
Lori arrived at her mother's house and walked in to the smells of beef stew and carrot cake. Balloons hung suspended from the backs of the kitchen chairs. Her mother and grandmother wore matching pineapple aprons.
"It's the birthday girl!" her mother exclaimed, hurrying to Lori and taking her by the shoulders. "My goodness, you get more beautiful every day." She kissed her cheek. "Happy birthday, honey."
"Thanks, Mom."
Grandma Mavis set down her ladle and grabbed Lori in a hug. "I added peppers and garlic, but no onion to the stew, just the way you like it."
"Thanks, Grandma. Is Henry coming?"
"No, he wanted to, but he's got some big exam on Monday. You know Henry."
"That's fine. I have a friend who's going to join us."
"Not Stu?" her mother asked, eyes widening.
"No, Stu and I broke up."
Her mother feigned surprise, exchanging a look with Grandma Mavis.
Her grandmother shrugged. "Good riddance. We never liked Stu anyhow."
Ben arrived carrying a small box wrapped in brown paper and decorated with a hand-drawn picture of a grinning cat.
"That's some serious artistry." Lori laughed.
"I tried to channel Matilda for that one," Ben told her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks. Are you sure you're up for this?" She opened the door wider so he could walk into the house.
"Meeting your mom and grams? Heck, yeah. If they're anything like you, this will be an afternoon to remember."
Lori led Ben into the kitchen where her mother had set the table and hurried around ladling stew into the bowls.
"Mom, this is Ben," Lori told her, feeling an instant blush rising into her face.
"Ben, hello. I'm Rebecca. This is my mother, Mavis."
"Three generations," he said. "I'm honored."
Rebecca smiled and pulled out a chair. "Have a seat, kids. Dinner is ready."
They sat and talked. Ben spoke comfortably, regaling them with harrowing stories of life as an E.R. nurse.
"Enough about me," he said after a while. "Let's talk about Lori, the guest of honor."
Lori smirked. "There's nothing these ladies don't already know about me, Ben. You're a far more interesting topic."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Rebecca said. "What's this Ben mentioned about your going to Baldwin later for a walk in the woods?"
Lori glanced at Ben, who mouthed the word 'sorry.' He must have told her mother and grandmother when she'd gotten up to use the bathroom.
Lori brushed a hand over her stomach and picked at the remaining cake on her plate. "Yeah. We are. It's time to go back there. It's been fifteen years."
Rebecca reached for Lori's hand, rubbing her fingers over her knuckles. "I'm proud of you, honey."
"Thanks, Mom."
"But be careful," Grandma Mavi
s insisted. "If you'd like, you can borrow my Swiss Army knife."
Lori smiled. "I think we'll be okay without the knife, but I appreciate the offer, Grandma."
They sang Lori happy birthday, and then Lori leaned in and blew out her candles, wishing silently that all the families of the missing girls had answers.
Her mom handed her an envelope closed with a gold seal. Lori opened it and pulled out the paper inside, reading it.
"Mom?" Lori studied the ticket, puzzled.
"It's a plane ticket. Well, a gift certificate for a plane ticket. It should cover anywhere you want to go. I was in your room and saw that old dream board. You wanted to go to so many places. Machu Picchu—remember you talked and talked about wanting to go there? I'm thinkin' it's about time you do that."
Lori lunged out of her seat, grabbed her mother and burst into tears. The emotion poured up and out of her in a rush and she couldn't quell it.
“My sensitive girl,” Rebecca murmured, petting her daughter’s hair. “I’m so proud of you.”
Lori sat back down. Ben handed her a napkin and she wiped away her tears. "Thank you, Mom. I can't believe you did that. It's too much."
"Oh, no, it's not," Grandma Mavis said. "You best send us pictures, and not that kind you put on the interwebs, understand? Real ones I can put in a frame on the mantel."
"Grandma had the final say," Rebecca told her. "I was afraid to buy the ticket, afraid of you going off somewhere, but then—"
"Then I told her we'd never met a stronger, more brilliant, more beautiful woman,” Grandma Mavis declared. “And that woman needed a passport full of stamps."
Lori pulled away from her mother and hugged her grandma. She sat back in her chair, smiling at Ben, embarrassed. He grinned and handed her the gift he'd brought.
Lori peeled off the paper to reveal a small white box. She lifted the cover to find a beautiful gold compass on a black leather band.
“You wear it like a watch,” Ben told her, taking it from the box.
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