After Nightfall

by A. J. Banner

  I open the drawer, make myself busy putting spoons and forks on the countertop. Please don’t let them get into a fight, right here in front of me. I won’t be able to take it.

  “I didn’t say that,” Hedra says, the color rising in her cheeks. “Freedom meaning . . . any modeling gig I want. Freedom to travel.”

  “You do have freedom to travel,” Keith says.

  “Well, you know what I mean,” Hedra says. “She asked me what I would do if I finally got what I wanted, but then, it gets ripped away, and you’ll never have it back.”

  I tear off a thread hanging from my sweater sleeve, throw it away. Try not to look at Keith’s expression.

  “What did you say?” he says.

  “I said I don’t know. I asked her if this had happened to her. She didn’t answer.”

  “What did she want that got ripped away?” I say. Lauren had everything—a caring husband, a beautiful house, a job she loved, a daughter.

  “She never said. She just stamped out her cigarette and went back to the party. But I could tell she had struggles. She could have thought about suicide. Although she didn’t act like it at dinner. She acted like—”

  “Stop speculating.” Keith drops the knife on the counter with a clatter. He picks up the knife and resumes chopping an onion. “None of us know what happened. We’re only guessing.”

  “All those rocks on the way down,” Hedra says. “It’s got to be a two-hundred-foot drop.”

  “Closer to one hundred,” I say.

  “There should be a railing. There shouldn’t be a way anyone can fall.”

  “We can’t cordon off our coastlines,” Keith says.

  “They’re adding a suicide guard to the Golden Gate Bridge,” she says.

  “This isn’t the damned Golden Gate Bridge,” he says.

  I’m watching the coffee percolate. I hear the shower running in the master bathroom. A helicopter passes overhead, its blades spinning in a deep, pulsing roar.

  “This will all be on the news, no doubt,” Hedra says. “All the sordid details. They should leave her in peace. Her family deserves privacy.”

  “Not if they could be responsible,” Keith says. “Everyone needs to be questioned. Not by the paparazzi, of course. But by the police.”

  Hedra makes a sour face. “Responsible? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Take Jensen. We all saw the way Lauren was acting toward Nathan and me, right in front of him.”

  “You think he would kill her for flirting?” Hedra stares at him in disbelief.

  Keith smirks. “The way she acted. Who would blame him?”

  Hedra’s mouth drops open. “So, he would be justified in pushing her off a cliff?”

  “I’m only saying—”

  “I know what you’re saying.” She gets up and strides off toward the guest room.

  “Excuse me,” Keith says. He goes after her, leaving me to gaze at the knife in my hand, at the cutting board on which the chopped tomatoes are bleeding out. But I don’t feel like cutting any more vegetables, or cooking an omelet, or eating anything at all.

  I hear the shower turn off in Nathan’s bathroom. Cold air wafts into the kitchen, as if a window is open somewhere. The house is too quiet. Motionless. Waiting to exhale. It takes me a minute to put the pieces together in my mind. Anna’s full backpack in the closet. Leave me alone. The frightened look on her face.

  “Anna!” I call out, running down the hall. “Anna?”

  Her door stands ajar, the window gaping, cool air blowing in, rumpling the sheets. The photograph of Anna, her mom, and Nathan perches at the edge of the desk, about to fall off. Behind the photograph, on the shelf, Anna usually keeps her jewelry box, her precious gift from Nathan. Only last night, the melody of Swan Lake wafted out across the garden. Now the box is gone. A strand of her sweater snagged on a sliver of wood on the windowsill. There’s a note on the bed, weighted down by a rock. I snatch up the paper. It reads, in Anna’s childlike cursive: I’m okay. I ran away. Don’t look for me. Love, Anna.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “What’s going on?” Nathan says, striding into Anna’s room in his jeans, toweling his hair. “I heard you yelling.”

  “Could she be any more direct?” I show him the note and point to the open window, lacking a screen.

  “She ran away? What the hell?” He crumples the note, throws it on the ground.

  I gesture to the turquoise pajamas on the bed. “She was wearing those . . .”

  He peers out the window. “Anna! Get back here!”

  “Like that’s going to help. You yell, and she comes running home?”

  “This is not the time,” he says, his face dark with anger. He picks up a grain of uncooked rice from the nightstand. More grains of rice are scattered on the floor. “What is this? Anna!” He checks the closet, dashes down the hall, calling for her.

  Keith and Hedra emerge from the guest room, following us, white faced.

  “She did it again,” Hedra says. “Took off?”

  “What do you mean, again?” I say, alarmed.

  “She ran away when her rabbit died three years ago,” Hedra says.

  Nathan glares at her. “She came back. Keep looking.”

  “Get dressed,” I tell him. “You’ll catch cold. I’ll look for her outside.” I can’t slow down my breathing.

  “We’ll check next door,” Hedra says.

  I pull on my boots and dash outside. After throwing on clothes, Nathan’s not far behind me, calling for Anna. No sign of her in the garden. But she could be crouching behind a tree. We both look toward the tangle of forest at the back of the property, between the garden and the bluff.

  “Anna!” Nathan calls, cupping his mouth with his hands. We check every corner of the yard, behind a rock, an old wheelbarrow, in the toolshed. Nothing. Keith and Hedra have come out in their coats. They head next door.

  “I’ll check the front,” I shout. But she’s not in the yard or on the road.

  Arthur Nguyen emerges from a forest trail at the end of the cul-de-sac, the entrance to the wildlife refuge. Bert trots ahead of him, a mop of white fur straining at the leash. Arthur waves, his beret falling over his eyes. I’ve never seen him without the hat, maybe to cover his bald spot.

  I dash up the road to meet him. He’s only slightly taller than me and square all over—square face, square shoulders, square shoes. He’s all dressed in wool and tweed, grays and browns, to match his hair. “Oh, my word, you found Lauren, didn’t you?” he says.

  “I did,” I say, light-headed.

  “How awful, my dear—”

  “Thank you. Listen. Anna took off. She ran away.”

  “Ran away!” He picks up Bert, tucks him beneath his armpit, as if Anna ran out to steal his dog.

  “Have you seen her?”

  “Nope,” he says, shielding his eyes with a gloved hand. Faint scents of woodsmoke and wet dog hair emanate from him. “She didn’t come my way, but then, I wasn’t looking. Last night I was out, though. That detective came by asking questions, and I realized I did see something.”

  “You did,” I say, shifting from foot to foot.

  Nathan calls for Anna in the distance.

  “I was out with Bert. Sometime after two. I heard voices, and that sensor light went on in the Eklunds’ back porch. I saw someone rushing out toward the gazebo, and somebody else was out there. It was just a shadow. Couldn’t see who it was without my glasses. I didn’t pay much attention, thought you were all still partying. Wish I could’ve made it for dinner.”

  “You think you saw two people?” I say, a ripple of apprehension traveling down my spine.

  He nods, petting Bert, who’s quivering with cold. “But I can’t be sure. Couldn’t tell who they were.”

  “You told the detective.”

  “I did. Told him every word.”

  “Anna!” Nathan calls.

  “I have to look for Anna,” I say. “If you see her, could you let us know?”


  “Did you check the tree house?” Arthur says, walking me back up the road.

  “What tree house?”

  “In the woods behind Nathan’s place. My daughters used to play in there all the time.” His voice drips with sadness.

  “Where is this tree house, exactly?” I say, my heart skipping a beat.

  He points back into the woods. “Over there—where it’s all tangled up and overgrown. The people before Nathan built it for their kids. Pretty broken down now, but I bet it’s still there.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  As Nathan and I trample through the backyard, Arthur’s recollection races through my mind. Two people. Sensor light. Was someone else out there with Lauren? Someone who pushed her? Or without his glasses, did Arthur simply see moving shadows?

  “Look,” Nathan says, pointing at the ground. Sure enough, someone has worn a narrow path into the woods. We follow the trail, pushing branches out of the way, burrs sticking to our clothes. We keep calling for Anna, no answer.

  “I didn’t know there were so many trees back here,” I say, sprinting to keep up.

  “The Eklunds’ property was logged, but not on this side.” He stops at a clearing, and there it is, a small, dilapidated structure, perched maybe ten feet off the ground between two firs. A slanted ladder curves around the trunk of the biggest fir, missing a couple of rungs.

  “Anna, are you up there?” he shouts up. “Anna!” No answer. He starts to climb the ladder, but I yank his arm.

  “You’re too heavy,” I say. “Stand here in case I fall. I’ll go up.”

  He frowns but stands back. I climb up and peer inside the tree house, light leaking through holes in the roof. The smells of old wood and damp mold waft toward me. Candles and books crowd into a corner of the sagging floor, and there is Anna, sitting cross-legged on a tattered sleeping bag, her backpack in her lap. I exhale with relief.

  “She’s here!” I shout down.

  “Go away,” she says. “Leave me alone.”

  “We were worried about you,” I say.

  “I’m good. I’m staying here.”

  “Anna!” Nathan says. “What are you doing up there?”

  “I’m not coming down,” Anna says.

  “But all your stuff is in your bedroom,” I say, not daring to crawl inside. The whole thing might collapse.

  “I have all the stuff I need.”

  “But you’ve got a nice room—”

  “I don’t like my room anymore.”

  “It gets cold up here.”

  “I have a sleeping bag. I love it up here. I can see everything.”

  I motion to Nathan to stay at the bottom. “You’re going to stay up here forever then?”

  “I don’t know about forever,” she says. “This is my first stop.”

  “Where else would you go?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “So, this is like a hotel?”

  “More like camping.”

  “Anna?” Nathan calls from the bottom of the ladder. “Come down. Now.”

  I reach for her hand. “We’re coming down. Aren’t we?”

  “I’m staying up here,” Anna says, tucking her hands under her armpits. “I don’t know why everyone is making a big deal. I’ve only been up here for like, five minutes.”

  “It’s not that,” I say. “It’s just . . . with everything that’s happened, we’re all a bit spooked. And we want you safe.”

  “With everything that’s happened? It’s one thing. Brynn’s mom died.”

  “One terrible thing,” I say. “Do you have food for forever in your backpack?”

  “I’ll get more later.”

  “Shouldn’t you talk to your dad about this?” Taking a chance, I cautiously crawl inside and sit cross-legged next to Anna. A plank groans under my weight.

  She shrugs, looking at her ragged fingernails. “He can come but he has to knock. You didn’t knock. Nobody ever knocks.”

  “I’ll knock next time,” I say. “If you live up here, you would miss the view from your room.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “I’m coming up!” Nathan says.

  “Just wait!” I call down. I look at her. “If you stay up here, you’ll need double pajamas. There’s no heating system. Where are your bird pajamas? The ones you wore to bed last night.”

  She says nothing.

  “Did they get wet?”

  “Yeah.”

  So, she did go to sleep in them, then changed out of them. “Look, I know things have been crazy,” I say. “But—”

  “Anna!” Nathan calls up. “Please come down.”

  I look at her. “Let’s go down and talk about all this.”

  She looks at me, her eyes wide. “We could go somewhere, right? We could go away?”

  “Where would we go?”

  “Somewhere like a palace or a fortress or . . .”

  “Is that why you’re up here? You don’t feel safe in the house?”

  She doesn’t reply.

  “We’re safe in the house with your dad.”

  She glares at me. “No, we’re not. You don’t get it. People can be bad.”

  “Who, exactly? Who can be bad?”

  “Just people.”

  “Which people?”

  She shrugs again. “Brynn’s mom is in heaven, if she was good. But what if you’re both? Good and bad?”

  “That’s a difficult question,” I say, stopping short of for someone your age. “Who’s good and bad, Anna?”

  “Nobody.”

  “What’s going on up there?” Nathan says.

  “We’re all human,” I say to Anna. “Everyone has elements of good and bad in them.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Even me? Even you? Even—?”

  “What?” Her questions throw me off. “What is this about?”

  “Nothing.” She looks down at her hands again.

  “Anna—”

  “I was just asking, that’s all.” She’s shivering.

  “You’re cold. Let’s go inside the house. Come on.” I reach over and grab her backpack. “Ready?”

  The wind blows; the tree house creaks. Leaves rustle around us, and not far from here, the ocean rushes up across the sand. I can sense Nathan at the bottom of the ladder, losing his patience.

  “I don’t want my mom to know I’m up here,” Anna says.

  “She doesn’t,” I say, although I’m not sure.

  “Dad probably called her again. He left her a message this morning.”

  “Look, I’ll speak for you. You’ll be fine,” I say, but I may be wrong. It’s not up to me. But right now, I’ll say anything to get both of us out of this rickety contraption.

  “I’m still planning to leave,” she says. “After breakfast.”

  “Sure, you need to eat.”

  “I can’t cook up here.”

  “No, it would be a fire hazard. Shall we go down?”

  She nods with resignation. As we descend the ladder, a woman rushes toward us through the brambles, translucent blond hair flying.

  “That’s my mom,” Anna says softly. “I’m in big trouble now.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Rianne rushes to Anna and envelops her in a hug. I’m struck by her singular focus. She’s in a vintage coat, boots—she must’ve ripped herself away from her shop. Her expression instantly shifts from worry to anger. “Oh, Anna, what were you thinking? You scared us all half to death.” Then she grabs Anna’s hand and drags her back through the rain toward the house.

  “I was in the tree fort,” Anna says. “I’m allowed to go up there!”

  Nathan and I follow, Nathan giving me a look that says Now we’re all in big trouble.

  “Up where? What are you talking about?” Rianne’s voice cuts through the wind. “Where is your phone? I tried to call a hundred times!”

  “I don’t know—I lost it.”

  “Where did you lose it? Is it in your room somewhere?”

  “I don’t
know.”

  Nathan grabs Anna’s backpack from my arms as we speed up. “What did she put in this thing? A ton of rocks?”

  “Food for forever,” I say.

  Back at the house, Keith and Hedra are waiting in the kitchen, dressed and ready to go. Nathan hoists Anna’s backpack onto the counter. She dashes off to her bedroom and slams the door, still in her coat and boots.

  “You could have completely lost her in those woods,” Rianne says, glaring at Nathan.

  “I didn’t,” he says.

  “But you could have. You know how she gets. When she’s upset, she takes off. What were you doing?”

  “I was occupied.”

  Keith motions to Hedra, and they move into the living room.

  “Not occupied watching your daughter, obviously,” Rianne says, ignoring the rest of us. I stand back, but I don’t leave the kitchen.

  “It’s been crazy here with the police,” Nathan says.

  “They weren’t interrogating Anna, I hope.”

  “Look, you didn’t get back to me. I called you. You were working or whatever.”

  “Yes, I run a business.” Rianne looks at me as if seeing me for the first time, her face etched with worry. But she found time to call Anna more than once.

  I take my cue to disappear into the living room, stripping off my wet coat. Nathan and Rianne head down the hall to Anna’s room.

  “Just like old times,” Keith says, sighing. He is standing at the window. Hedra is sitting on the couch.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I say. I feel shut out, the former family of three together again in Anna’s room. But at least she is safe.

  Hedra pats the cushion next to her, but I don’t want to sit. “Rianne wants Nathan to keep an eye on Anna 24-7,” she says. “Didn’t I tell you? She’s looking for a reason to call him a bad dad.”

  “But that’s ridiculous,” I say. “He’s a great dad.”

  “We know that. But does she?” Hedra nods toward the hallway.

  We’re quiet, listening to the murmur of voices. Soon, Rianne comes back down the hall, Nathan in tow. “I’ve got to get back to the shop,” she says, stepping out on the porch. Nathan follows her out. Her voice drifts in through the open kitchen window. “What the hell were you thinking? . . . Don’t want to leave her . . . Lauren . . .”