Wild

by Kristin Hannah

  He opened the door.

  Julia stood there: he could see how hard she was trying to smile. “Ellie wants to take Alice into the woods. To see if . . .” Her voice wavered. “. . . if she can find . . .”

  He pulled her into his arms and held her until she stopped trembling, then he led her into the living room. On the sofa, he once again took her in his arms.

  “What do I do?”

  He touched her face gently. “You already know the answer to that. It’s why you’ve been crying.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  “She could regress. Or worse.”

  “And what will she do if Azelle gets custody?”

  She started to say something, then paused, drawing in a deep breath.

  In the silence that followed, he said, “This is the time to be her mother, not her doctor.”

  She looked up at him. “How is it you always know what to say to me?”

  He tried to glance away, couldn’t. Very slowly, he pulled away from her and went upstairs. On the bureau he found what he was looking for: a five-by-seven framed photograph of a little boy in a baseball uniform, smiling for the camera. His two front teeth were missing. He took the picture downstairs and resettled himself on the couch.

  Julia sat up, alarmed. “Max? What is it, you look—”

  He handed her the picture. “That’s Danny.”

  Frowning, she studied the small, shining face, then looked at Max again, waiting.

  “He was my son.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Was?”

  “That’s the last picture we have of him. A week later a drunk driver hit us on the way home from a game.”

  Her eyes filled with tears; the sight of it should have broken him, plunged him into his loss, but instead it strengthened him. It was the first time he’d said Danny’s name out loud in years, and it felt good.

  “I would do anything . . .” He stared down at her, not caring that his voice was breaking or that his eyes were watering. “Anything to have one more day with him.”

  Julia looked at the picture for a long time, and then slowly she nodded in understanding. “I love you, Max.”

  He took her in his arms and held her tightly. “And I love you.” He said it so quietly that he wondered if she’d heard, or if he’d only imagined the words; then he looked in her eyes and he knew: she’d heard him.

  “Someday you’ll tell me about him . . . about Danny,” she said.

  He leaned down to kiss her. “Yeah. Someday.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Alice, honey, are you listening to me?”

  “Read Alice.”

  “We’re not going to read right now. Remember what we talked about this morning and again at lunchtime?” Julia tried to keep her voice even. “A man is coming to see Alice.”

  “No. Play Jewlee.”

  Julia stood up. “Well. I’m going downstairs. You can stay up here by yourself if you’d like.”

  Alice immediately made a whimpering sound. “No leave.” She got up from her chair and raced to Julia’s side, tucking a hand into her skirt pocket.

  Julia’s heart swelled painfully. “Come on,” she said quietly.

  Down the stairs they went, side by side, Alice’s hand tucked firmly in Julia’s skirt.

  Ellie was standing by the fire, apparently reading the newspaper. Unfortunately, it was upside down. “Hey,” she said, looking up at their entrance. Though she wore full makeup and had curled her hair, she still looked tired somehow, and scared.

  “Hi, Lellie,” Alice said, pulling Julia toward her sister. “Read Alice?”

  Ellie smiled. “The kid’s like a bloodhound on the scent.” She ruffled Alice’s black hair. “Later.”

  Julia dropped to her knees and stared at Alice, who was smiling brightly.

  “Read now?”

  “When the man comes, you don’t need to be scared. I’m right here. So is Ellie. You’re safe.”

  Alice frowned.

  The doorbell rang.

  At the sound, Julia almost jumped out of her skin.

  Upstairs, the dogs—who were barricaded in Ellie’s bedroom—went crazy; jumping and barking.

  Julia slowly rose.

  Ellie walked toward the door. She paused for only a moment, long enough to straighten her shoulders, then opened it.

  George Azelle stood there, holding a huge, stuffed teddy bear. “Hi, Chief Barton,” he said, trying to look past her.

  Ellie stepped aside.

  Julia watched it all as if from far away. She felt like a ghost in the room, recently dead, watching her family gather after her funeral. Everything was quiet and slow. No one knew quite what to do or say.

  He stepped past Ellie and came into the living room. His curly black hair had been pulled back into a ponytail again. He wore ordinary Levi’s and an expensive white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows.

  Looking at them now, in the same room—the man with the dark, curly hair and the chiseled face and the little girl who was his carbon copy—there was no mistaking the link between them.

  He stepped forward, let the teddy bear slide down his hip. He held it negligently by one arm. “Brittany.” He said the name softly. There was no mistaking the wonder in his voice.

  Alice slid behind Julia.

  “It’s okay, Alice,” Julia said, trying to ease away from her, but Alice wouldn’t let her go. “She’s got a strong will,” Julia said to him. “She doesn’t like to be away from me.”

  “She gets her stubbornness from me,” he said.

  For the next hour they were like some terrible tableau in a French film. In the beginning, George tried to communicate with his daughter, talking about nothing, making no sudden moves, but none of it worked. Even reading aloud didn’t draw Alice out. At some point she streaked over to the potted plants and crouched there, watching him through the green, waxy leaves.

  “She has no idea who I am,” he finally said, closing the book, tossing it aside.

  “It’s been a long time.”

  He got up, began to pace the room. Then, on a dime, he stopped and turned to Julia. “Does she talk at all?”

  “She’s learning.”

  “How will she tell people what happened to her?”

  “Is that what matters most to you?”

  “Fuck you,” he said, but the words held no sting; were, in fact, kind of desperate-sounding. He went around the couch and moved toward the potted plants. He moved cautiously, as if he were approaching a wild and dangerous animal.

  A low growling came from the leaves.

  “That means she’s scared,” Ellie said from the kitchen.

  Upstairs, the dogs began to howl.

  George was less than five feet from the plants now. Squatting down, he was almost eye level with his daughter. Long moments passed like this, with him silent and frowning; his daughter growling in fear.

  Finally, he reached out to touch Alice.

  She threw herself backward so hard she could have been hurt. A plant fell over, crashed to the floor.

  He immediately pulled his hand back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Alice crouched on all fours, staring up at him through an opening in the leaves, breathing hard.

  George took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Julia heard his resignation. It was over. At least for the day. Thank God. Maybe he’d give up.

  He surprised her by starting to sing: “‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’”

  It was Julia’s turn to draw in a sharp breath. His voice was beautiful and true.

  Alice stilled. As the song went on, repeating, she sat back on her heels, then got to her feet. Cautiously, she neared the plants and started humming along with him.

  “You know me, don’t you, Brittany?”

  At that, the name Brittany, Alice spun away and ran upstairs.

  The bedroom door slammed shut.

  George got to his feet. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looked at Julia. �
�I used to sing that song to her when she was a baby.” He came closer.

  Julia was going to say something when she heard a car drive up. “Who’s here, El?”

  Ellie went to the front door, opened it. “Holy shit.” She slammed the door shut and turned around. “It’s KIRO TV and CNN . . . and the Gazette.”

  Julia looked at George. “You called the press?”

  He shrugged. “You spend three years in prison, Doctor, and then judge me. I’m as much a victim here as Brittany is.”

  “Tell it to someone who’ll believe it, you selfish son of a bitch.” She tried to rein in her anger. It wouldn’t do any good to scream at him with the press right there. “You’ve seen her. Becoming the object of media attention could destroy her. You and I know what it’s like when they make you the story. There’s nowhere to hide. Don’t do that to Alice.”

  “Brittany.” His gaze softened. She thought she saw true concern in his eyes. Or hoped she did. It was all she had to seize on to. “And you’ve left me no other choice.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Do you really want to prove your innocence?” Julia said, hearing the desperate edge in her voice. As she said it, she thought: God help me. God help her. Then she looked at her sister, who nodded in understanding.

  “I’ve spent a fortune trying to prove it.”

  Ellie pushed away from the kitchen counter. “You have something you didn’t have before.”

  “A small-town police chief on the case? That’s not gonna cut it.”

  “Not me,” Ellie said, moving toward him.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Brittany,” Julia said. The name tasted bitter on her tongue, or perhaps it was more than that; perhaps it was the taste of true fear and she hadn’t known it until now. “I think she lived in the forest for a long time. Years, maybe. If she did, your wife may have been held there also. Whoever took them might have left evidence behind.”

  George went very still. “You think Brittany could lead us there?”

  “Maybe,” Ellie answered. Julia could barely manage to nod.

  “Is it . . . safe? For Brittany, I mean?”

  Julia couldn’t have answered that question; not even for Alice. Her throat was too full of tears. This is wrong, even if it’s for the right reason.

  “Julia won’t let her see the actual site . . . if we find it, that is.” Ellie’s gaze was steady. “You asked me to do my job, George. Was that another lie?”

  Julia drew in a sharp breath. The room felt full of words unspoken, fear denied. A guilty man would say no. . . .

  “Okay,” he finally said. “But we go tomorrow. No dragging it out.”

  Julia honestly didn’t know how to feel. “Okay.” The word was barely louder than a whisper.

  “And no media,” Ellie said.

  George looked from one of them to the other, as if trying to gauge their honesty. “Okay. For now.”

  The doorbell rang again. There was pounding on the door.

  “Hide,” Ellie said sharply to George, who stumbled into the kitchen and crouched behind the cabinets. “Come with me,” she said to Julia.

  The two of them walked to the door, opened it. There were several reporters on the front steps, including Mort from the Gazette. They were already talking when the door opened.

  “We’re here to interview George Azelle!”

  “We know that’s his car.”

  “Can you confirm that the wolf girl is his missing daughter?”

  “Doctor Cates—have you cured the wild child? Is she speaking now?”

  Julia stared out at the faces in front of her, feeling distant from them, disconnected. Only a few months ago she would have given anything to be asked the last question, to be able to answer it in the affirmative. Then, the reformation of her reputation meant everything to her, but now her world was infinitely different.

  She felt Ellie’s gaze on her. No doubt her sister was thinking the same thing.

  Julia looked out at the reporters who were staring at her, microphones at the ready, willing—now—to believe her. She could be the one again, the doctor to whom they listened. She knew it was true. Alice could be her living proof, just as she was George’s. All she had to do was use Alice—show the tapes and then present the girl. The progress they’d made was nothing short of miraculous. The journals would be clamoring for articles on her therapy techniques.

  In the end, after all the times she’d dreamed of her triumphant return, it was surprisingly easy to smile coolly and say: “No comment.”

  Ellie, Cal, Earl, Julia, and Alice were in the park. They needed to set out before dawn. There could be no witnesses to this trek of theirs; a media trail would ruin everything. George stood apart from the rest of them, his arms crossed, talking to his lawyer.

  “Can she do it?” Cal asked, voicing everyone’s concern.

  Ellie had no answer to that. “I don’t even know what to hope for.” She reached out for Cal, held his hand. The warmth and familiarity of his touch made her breathe easier.

  She had been up most of the night, going through procedural manuals and e-mailing law enforcement colleagues around the country. She’d put together an evidence-gathering kit and invited Cal along to be their official photographer. Everything had to be done exactly right. If they actually found anything, she needed to preserve the site for county and maybe even federal crime scene investigators.

  It was dark and quiet out here. Cold. The icy breath of late January scraped their skin and chapped their lips. They’d been here beneath the maple tree for almost a half hour. In all that time, no one had said a word except Julia, who was kneeling in front of Alice. In the darkness, they all looked like apparitions; Alice most of all, with her black hair and dark coat and red boots.

  “Scared.” She gave a halfhearted growl.

  “I know, honey. I’m scared, too. So is Aunt Ellie. But we need to see where you were before. Remember what we talked about? Your place in the woods?”

  “Dark,” Alice whispered.

  Ellie heard Alice’s whimper, her trembling voice, and she wanted to stop this thing right now. How could they do this?

  “No leave Alice?”

  “No,” Julia said. “I’ll hold your hand all the time.”

  Alice sighed. It was a harrowing, heart-wrenching sound. “’Kay.”

  Behind them a car drove up. It was the final member of their party.

  Ellie walked over to the sidewalk, where Peanut and Floyd now stood alongside a game farm truck. Beside them, on a leash, was the wolf, muzzled.

  “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 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.