I nodded. “And his parents have come to see him, right?” I asked. “Has he recognized them?”
Dr. Carrini looked dismayed. “Not at all,” he said simply.
“Is that unusual?” Frank asked.
Dr. Carrini shrugged. “It’s not unheard of. I think it’s safe to say that Justin is suffering from some sort of psychological trauma, either brought on by a recent event or by the cumulative effect of whatever he’s experienced over the last twelve years. It’s not unusual for the brain to shut down in such cases—it’s a form of self-protection.”
I nodded. “So he will, eventually, get his memory back?”
“I hope so,” Dr. Carrini replied. “It does concern me somewhat that Justin isn’t responding to memory triggers, like his parents’ arrival or family photographs and home movies. I’m looking for physical causes now but not finding anything.”
I glanced at Frank. Huh. So Justin’s situation was unusual.
“Are his parents coming back tonight?” Frank asked, seeming to read my thoughts. “Could we meet them?”
Dr. Carrini tilted his head to the side. “As it happens, Justin’s mother just returned from the cafeteria. She’s in his room now. Come, I’ll bring her out and introduce you.”
Detective Cole, Frank, and I all followed Dr. Carrini back down to Justin’s room. Dr. Hubert gave us a little wave as he continued on his rounds. Just before we reached Justin’s room, Dr. Carrini signaled to us to wait in the hallway while he disappeared inside. A few seconds later, he returned, followed by a short, plump red-haired woman with a kind face, wearing a sweater embroidered with apples.
“Hello,” she said quietly, looking from Frank to me. “Oh, hello, detective. I’m Edie Greer.”
Frank and I introduced ourselves, and Frank said, “This must be a very complicated time for you.”
She nodded, her eyes watering. “It’s a lot of conflicting emotions,” she admitted. “Of course, we’re so thrilled to find Justin alive, after all these years!” She looked gratefully at Rich, and he smiled.
“But . . . ,” she went on, “it has been difficult, the last couple days. I can’t tell you what it feels like to see a child . . . your child . . . just look through you like he doesn’t know you from a stranger! I mean, I used to bathe Justin and feed him. He was afraid of the dark when he was little, so I would sing him to sleep. . . .” Her voice cracked, and her face seemed to melt into a sob. She brought up her hands, fiercely wiping her eyes. She took a deep breath, clearly struggling to control herself.
“Of course,” she said finally, “he’ll get better. He will remember me, I know.”
Dr. Carrini nodded, looking thoughtful. “We certainly hope so.”
I tried to catch Frank’s eye to get his reaction to that. It seemed an odd thing to say to a suffering mother—but maybe Dr. Carrini was just being logical, scientific? Frank would certainly understand that.
But my brother’s eyes were already following something down the hall. I glanced back and saw the candy striper, Chloe, approaching with a tall, broad salt-and-pepper-haired man in a flannel shirt.
Edie seemed to sigh—or maybe I was just imagining that? Dr. Carrini looked up and smiled, gesturing back to Frank and me. “Here’s someone else for you boys to meet,” he announced. “This is Jacob Greer—Justin’s dad.”
Of course. As soon as Dr. Carrini said it, I could see the family resemblance. Justin and Jacob shared the same dark hair, the same curious expression.
“Hello,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m Joe, and this is my brother, Frank. We’re writing a paper on the so-called Misty Falls Lost. We’re so sorry to bother you at this difficult time. Your wife was just explaining to us how hard these last few days have been.”
Jacob looked at me like I had three heads, and for a moment I wondered if I’d said something horribly inappropriate. But then he shrugged and the moment seemed to pass. “You oughta know that Edie here is my ex-wife, I guess,” he said gruffly. “We split up not long after Justin was gone. That’s for starters.”
I could feel my face turning red. Oops. Frank and I had worked on missing child cases before, and we knew that it wasn’t unusual for couples to split up after losing a child. No matter how much they loved each other, sometimes the pain was too great.
“Then,” Jacob added, fiddling with his suspenders, “you should know that I’m not convinced that kid in there is my boy. He could be, or he couldn’t. He doesn’t recognize me, and I’m not so sure about him.”
Rich cleared his throat. “Jacob has requested that we do a DNA test,” he said in a low voice. “The results should be back very soon.”
Edie nodded a little forcefully. “That’s right. We should know tomorrow or the next day. And then—once we’re all sure that this is really our baby—then Justin can focus on remembering our family, and Jacob will start to accept him, I know it.” She wiped away a tear that had escaped.
Jacob made a funny sound—somewhere between a snort and a throat-clearing. “And if that’s our boy, we’ll live happily ever after?” He shook his head, then turned to face me. “Let me tell you something, boy. These child abduction cases—they never end happily. Even if that is my son, he’s been gone for twelve years now. I dunno what he’s been through. But he’s been someone else’s longer’n he was mine.”
I wanted more than anything to try to catch my brother’s eye, but Jacob’s eyes were boring into mine, daring me to look away. I held his gaze.
“Even if that is our son,” Jacob added, gesturing vaguely to the boy in the hospital room, “odds are, he ain’t never going to be the same. And the sooner we accept that, the better off we’ll all be.”
Edie let out a wail. Rich moved forward quickly, folding her into a hug. She whimpered into his shoulder, and he patted her back. “Now, Edie,” he said gently, shooting an accusatory look at Jacob. “Now, Edie.”
Jacob glanced at his sobbing wife. An expression passed quickly over his eyes—something like regret, or sadness—but it was gone before I could truly identify it. Then he shook his head and walked right past Edie into the hospital room.
Finally I caught my brother’s eye. He looked just as stunned as I felt.
Camping Out
Not long after our introduction to Jacob Greer, Rich seemed to think it was a good time to bring us out to our new campgrounds at Misty Falls State Park. We left the hospital with little protest, saying a quick good-bye to Justin and his parents. Chloe, the candy striper, saw us on our way out and said it was nice to meet us and she hoped she’d see us again.
Joe gave me kind of a pointed look right then, but I’m not sure why.
The drive out to the state park only took about ten minutes, but by the time we pulled into the driveway, we hadn’t seen a house or any sign of civilization for miles. Rich paused at the ranger station to say hello to the young lady working and to explain that he was dropping off some students (us) to camp. Then he continued on into the park.
So far, every bit of Idaho we’d seen had been beautiful, and the park was no exception. Huge pine and juniper trees stretched toward the sky, and a deep blue river cut through the forest before a string of purple mountains. I took in a calming breath, enjoying the clean country air.
“You’ll be camping on the banks of the Eagle River,” Rich explained to us, “which is where all of the disappearances took place, within a range of about five square miles.”
“Really?” asked Joe, a hint of nervousness in his voice. I don’t know if Rich heard it, though. I may have heard it only because he was my brother.
Rich nodded. “And I should warn you boys—there are most definitely bears living in this area. So be careful. Put all your food in airtight containers away from the tent.”
Joe took a deep breath.
“We know,” I assured Rich. “Don’t worry about us—we’ve had extensive wilderness training as part of ATAC.”
Rich pulled to a stop in a small parking lot where a well-marked path
disappeared into the woods. “I sure hope I did the right thing bringing you boys here.”
We unloaded our gear, which ATAC had shipped to the police station. Then Rich walked us down the path into the woods. We walked for what seemed like ten miles but was probably only one or two, max. Jet lag and the long day were starting to catch up with me, though—I felt sleepy already.
“Here we are,” Rich announced as we arrived at a little clearing on the banks of a shallow, rocky river. “Home sweet home.”
Joe and I took in the site. Woods on three sides, the river and an exquisite view of the mountains on the fourth. If I hadn’t known eight children had mysteriously disappeared nearby, I would have thought it the ideal vacation spot.
“It seems quiet,” Joe observed, looking around. “Are there always so few campers here?”
Rich looked troubled. “Lately, yes,” he said. “The rumors about the abductions are catching up with us.”
There was silence for a moment, but finally I said, “Well. We sure do appreciate you bringing us out here, Rich, and taking your whole afternoon to get us situated. We’ll be in touch soon.”
Rich nodded. “You need any help setting up camp?”
Joe shook his head. “We’ll be fine. But thanks.”
Rich nodded again, then touched the brim of his cowboy hat in a silent good-bye. As we watched, he disappeared back into the woods.
Once I was fairly sure he was out of earshot, I turned to my brother. “So what do you think?” I asked.
Joe’s eyes widened. “I’m pretty freaked, how ’bout you?”
I sighed. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “About Justin? The case? What are your first impressions?”
Joe looked around at the trees, still uncomfortable. “My first impression is, this is really freaky,” he replied. When I sighed again, he continued. “Look—I really don’t know yet what’s going on with Justin. On the one hand, there’s no way he could have survived on his own in the wilderness for so long, but on the other, he doesn’t seem like a kid who was raised by normal, loving parents.”
I nodded. “He’s a little wild.”
“Yeah,” Joe agreed. “And I think what freaks me out about this case is that nothing about it makes sense. Some of the clues seem to lead in one direction, but there are just as many leading in the other. Were the kids kidnapped? Were they killed by a man? Were they killed by a bear? Were they attacked by a ghost?”
I let out a sharp laugh. “A ghost? Come on, Joe. I think we can eliminate that one.”
“Can we?” asked Joe, giving me a challenging look. “Part of me thinks a ghost is the only thing weird enough to really make sense here.” He paused. “Kids disappearing in the middle of the night? Nobody ever hears anything, and there’s never any evidence? Do you really think a human being could be so quiet and leave nothing behind?”
I took a deep breath. “It is hard to believe, Joe, but yes, I believe it because I have to,” I replied. “Or, it might really have been a bear. Or, some of those kids might have wandered off on their own. It’s unlikely, but those are the only explanations that make sense.”
Joe shook his head. “They don’t make sense at all! To me, the story about Nathan and his ghost makes a lot more sense.”
I shook my head. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” Joe insisted. “Frank, didn’t you ever see The Blair Witch Project?”
I scoffed. “No,” I replied. “And it looks silly. Besides, Joe, even you must realize that story was fictional.”
Joe just shook his head, looking down at the ground. “I’m going to have trouble falling asleep tonight,” he muttered. “That’s all I’m saying.”
• • •
As it turned out, we decided to sleep in shifts. One of us would sleep while the other kept guard, watching and waiting to see if anything suspicious took place. Nobody except Rich and the park rangers knew we were camping in the park—at least, as far as we knew—so we didn’t expect any trouble. Still, just being around and getting a sense of what went on in the park at night—what animals were present, that kind of thing—would help us figure out this case.
Joe took the first shift, then woke me up at midnight.
“Anything happen?” I asked curiously as I sat up in my sleeping bag, rubbing my eyes.
Joe shrugged. “Absolutely nothing,” he replied with a yawn. “And believe me, no one’s more shocked than I am.” He settled down in his sleeping bag and adjusted his pillow while I pulled myself into a sitting position and flicked on my flashlight. Pulling out a recent copy of Science magazine, I soon got lost in an article about hydroponics.
“Joe,” I said after about fifteen minutes of listening to him toss and turn and sigh. “Go to sleep. Really. It will be all right.”
Joe didn’t answer—he just sighed deeply. “This really doesn’t frighten you at all?” he asked.
I shrugged. “It’s just a quiet night in the Idaho wilderness,” I replied. “Really, I’m enjoying how quiet it is. Now get some sleep.”
I turned my focus back to my article, and a few minutes later, Joe’s breathing turned slow and rhythmic. I smiled to myself. Good—he’d managed to calm down. I knew my brother would be a bear in his own right if he didn’t get any sleep tonight.
I’d read through almost my whole magazine when I began to shift uncomfortably, and I cast my eyes toward the zipped opening of the tent. Mother Nature was calling me—but I wasn’t so hot to answer. I was nice and warm where I was, sitting cross-legged with my sleeping bag and pillow wrapped around me. Besides . . . the wind had picked up, and it was probably cold out there. Every so often I heard a rumble in the distance. And the spot Joe and I had chosen for our latrine was a good forty yards from the tent.
Still. I sighed and slowly got to my feet. When you have to go, you have to go, and this couldn’t wait. I gently smoothed my sleeping bag and pillow and grasped my big yellow flashlight. All right—guess I’m going outside.
I carefully unzipped the tent and stepped out. Outside, it seemed a million times darker than it had in the tent, and it took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and make out the river, the trees, and the remains of our fire.
I took a deep breath. It always amazed me how vast the world seemed at night. I could make out maybe five feet in any direction with my flashlight on—beyond that, I had no idea what the darkness held.
Splash. Wait—had I really heard that? It sounded just feet away, in the river. Like someone stepping right in.
I breathed in again. Calm down, Frank. I was getting just as bad as Joe. Just because I heard a splash in the night didn’t mean it was a person—it could just as easily be a frog, a turtle, a fish. I was in nature’s territory now, not my own. We were probably surrounded by hundreds of animals I’d never seen before, or ever would again.
Rrrrrumble. Thunder, and it sounded close. I’d better do my business and get back inside before I got soaked.
I picked my way through the darkness to the latrine area in the woods that Joe and I had chosen. As quickly as I could, I relieved myself and turned back to face the tent. Just for a moment, I shut off the flashlight to see if I could get my bearings and understand where the river was in relation to where I stood. A few seconds later, the whole area was lit up by a bolt of lightning—and my heart stopped.
Right there.
Right there!
Just a few feet to my left.
I’d spotted a bulky, dark, black-clothed figure—indisputably human, with an arm raised as though to strike.
I ducked, feeling my heart push up through my throat. Desperately trying to keep my wits about me, I flicked the flashlight back on. Praying to myself, not sure what I could even do with no weapon besides to scream for Joe, I turned the beam to my left, in the direction where the figure had stood.
I took in one breath, then another.
There was nothing there.
Relief flooded my body, but concern did, too. Okay, so the figur
e had moved—but where had it gone? I shone the light to the right, then to the left. I swiveled completely around and shone the light behind me. I turned in a circle, slowly, searching the whole area . . . as far as the flashlight’s beam would reach.
Nothing.
My heart was still pounding in my chest, and my body, if not my head, was still convinced there was a threat nearby. I tried to recreate what I had seen in my mind’s eye—a large human figure. Bulky. Arm raised. Dark clothing.
Was it possible he hadn’t really been there?
Had I imagined the whole thing?
Just then, the sky opened up, and a torrent of rain began to pour down into the woods. I quickly aimed my flashlight at the tent and scurried back. I unzipped the tent but before I stepped inside, I slowly scanned the woods with my flashlight, checking one more time for the figure that had stood right beside me.
Nothing.
I chuckled to myself, trying to find it funny.
I’m getting as bad as Joe.
I ducked through the opening to the tent, zippering it tightly behind me.
• • •
“Frank!” Joe’s voice pierced my dreams just a few hours later, after I’d finally drifted back to sleep once Joe began his second shift.
I blinked. “Wha—what, Joe? It can’t be later than three.”
Joe looked at his watch. “It’s four, actually. Listen, Frank—do you hear that?”
I fell silent, perking up my ears. And then—yeah. I felt my whole body tense. Something was making lots of noise outside the tent—something was trying to make a lot of noise. Banging and stomping. Whoever was out there, he or she really wanted us to know they were there.
I sat straight up in my sleeping bag. “Do you think . . . ?”
Joe looked at me seriously. “Someone’s out there, Frank,” he insisted. “Someone wants us to know they’re there. Did anything like this happen on your shift?”
I bit my lip, thinking, Something even worse happened—I saw the guy. But somehow I couldn’t force the words from my mouth. Before I’d fallen asleep about an hour ago, I’d pretty much convinced myself I must have imagined the figure I saw. What would anyone be doing this deep in the woods? Why wouldn’t I have seen him again?
The Children of the Lost Page 4