The Missing

Sheila waved it off, but Darby could see where the worry still ate at her. Even in the soft light, her face looked haggard, leached of color. Any day now.

Darby laid down next to her mother and hugged her.

‘You know what I kept thinking about today? The time you got caught in an undertow and almost drowned. You were eight.’

Darby remembered the feeling of tumbling across the ocean floor, the water getting colder. When she finally resurfaced, she coughed up water for the next hour.

But it was the chill she felt while trapped underneath the water that refused to leave, even while she sat in the sun. The chill was still with her later when she was tucked in her bed underneath layers ofwarm blankets. The chill was a reminder that there were things in this world she couldn’t always see, waiting to strike out when you least expected it.

‘You didn’t cry – your father was more shook up about it than you were,’ Sheila said. ‘He took you to get an ice cream, and you said – I’ll never forget this – you said to him, “Dad, you don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself”’

Darby closed her eyes and saw the three of them packed in the car, on their way home, the car smelling of the ocean and Coppertone. The three of them together. Healthy and safe. A good memory there. She had lots of them.

‘Coop stopped by,’ Sheila said. ‘He wanted me to know you were okay.’

‘That was nice of him.’

‘He’s very nice – and fu

‘That’s what he keeps trying to tell me.’

‘He looks like that basketball player, what’s his name, Brady.’

‘Tom Brady. He plays football. He’s a quarterback for the Patriots.’

‘Is he single?’

‘He is.’

‘I think you two should go on a date. You’re well suited for each other.’

I’ve tried, but sadly, Tom Brady won’t return my phone calls.’

‘I was referring to Coop. He reminds me of your father, has that same quiet, confident way about him. Is he dating anyone?’

‘Coop isn’t the dating type.’

‘He said he’s looking to settle down.’

‘Probably with one of his underwear models,’ Darby said.

‘He thinks very highly of you. Told me how smart you are, how hardworking and dedicated you are to your job. He said you’re the most trustworthy person he has ever met –’

Darby was asleep.

Chapter 49

Carol had spent the first few minutes after the door shut covering her ears to block out the god-awful screaming – and not just from one woman. Several women were somewhere outside her door and they were screaming.

What scared Carol even more were the banging sounds. Bang, scream, bang-bang-bang- scream, BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG, the frightening sounds growing louder and closer.

Carol had frantically searched her room again, trying to find something to use as a weapon, something she might have missed. Everything was bolted down, even the toilet seat. There wasn’t anything she could use. The only thing in here was the blanket and pillow.

Hours had passed since that moment. Her door never opened, but that didn’t mean the man with the mask wasn’t coming back for her.

Standing alone in the dark room, Carol hadn’t wasted her time feeding her fear. She had used that time to think of a plan.

Men, she knew, were vulnerable in one key area – their balls. One time Mario Densen put his meaty hand on her ass and gave it a tight squeeze. Mario was twice her height and almost triple her weight; but, wouldn’t you know, the fat jerk crumbled like a deck of cards when her shin co

Carol had removed her sweats and, using the pillow, formed a ball underneath the blanket. This was her plan:

When the door opened, the man with the mask would think she was curled up underneath the blanket; she would be pressed up against the wall next to the door. After he stepped inside her room, she’d get behind him and kick him squarely in the crotch. Get in one good kick, and after he fell to the floor – they always did – she’d kick him in the face and in the head.

Carol, dressed in her underwear and bra, shivered inside the cool room. To stay awake and keep warm, she paced the small area near the door, knowing she had only six steps before she hit the wall. When she felt tired, when the fear started to trickle in, she pounded her hands against the wall to keep the anger close to her skin.

She thought about the tray of food and wondered if it was still in the hallway. The thought of food made her stomach rumble. She didn’t need the food, she reminded herself. She could survive on water, and there was plenty of it from the sink. She had some water earlier, wanting to stay hydrated and to flush the drugs from her system –

Wait. The tray. The food was on a plastic tray. If she broke the tray, she could use the sharp pieces to defend herself. She could use it on his face. She could use it on his eyes.

Her door started to open, clank-clank-clank.

Carol pressed her back against the wall, tensing, eyes tuned to the square of dull light parting the darkness along the floor. Get ready, she had to think about getting ready, she only had one shot and she couldn’t waste it.

The man with the mask didn’t come into her room – he wasn’t even standing outside her room. His shadow wasn’t on the floor.

Music started playing – old-fashioned jazz stuff that reminded Carol of a time when men wore things like fedoras and went to places like speakeasies. No banging and no screaming.

Her door was still open. The last time, the door shut after a couple of minutes.

Was he waiting for her to come out there?

To get the tray, she’d have to risk turning the corner. She’d have to risk having him see her. If he saw her, then her plan of using the clothes and pillow underneath the blanket would be worthless.

She couldn’t defend herself with her hands. The man with the mask was too strong. And he had a knife. She needed the tray. Carol edged closer to the opened door, listening for sounds, watching for movement, a shadow.

Now Carol stood at the corner. Carefully, she turned the corner and looked.

The plastic tray had been kicked down to the far end of the long hallway. Beneath the tray and looking black in the dim light was a pool of blood. It was coming from the woman lying facedown on the floor.

Don’t scream, don’t you dare scream or he’ll hear you.

Carol bit her bottom lip and tried hard to clamp down on the scalding fear.

Get the tray.

Carol didn’t move. She was thinking about the dead woman lying in all that blood. She wasn’t moving.

You need to get the tray. If he comes back here with the knife -

Carol ran.

Her door started to clank shut.

Carol kept ru

It seemed to take forever to reach the end of the corridor. She scooped up the tray, the blood warm and sticky underneath her feet. Carol turned around, about to run back to her room, when she felt the woman’s hand clamp around her ankle.

Carol screamed.

‘Help me,’ the woman said in a sleepy voice. ‘Please.’

BANG, a door slammed shut.

Get back to the room.

I can’t leave her –

She’s dead, Carol, get back to the room now.

Carol ran back with the tray. She ran as fast as she could, legs pumping, dear God please help me, please let me make the door.

The door to her room was shut.

There was no handle. Carol clawed at the door, her bloody fingers sliding across the cold steel, trying to find a way to pry it open. There was no way to open it. The door was shut and she was locked out, trapped out here with the dead woman –

BANG, another door slammed shut, BANG-BANG-BANG, the man with the mask was coming for her.

Chapter 50