His eyes lit up at the thought of it.
“But make sure you bring a grown-up with you, okay? You have to promise.”
“Promise,” he said, marking an X over his heart with his index finger.
“Thank you for talking to me. My name’s Laurie, by the way.”
“I’m Wyatt.”
She was about to turn away when he stopped her. “You’re really nice.”
“Thank you, Wyatt. So are you.”
“Was that you yelling at Timothy earlier? Was he in trouble?”
“Someone yelled at Timmy?”
Her tone was sharp, and the boy’s face fell.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I didn’t yell at him, and I hate the thought that someone else did.” They had decided not to call Ramon or Timmy yet, because they had left the hotel before Johnny went missing, and they didn’t want to upset Timmy unnecessarily if Johnny suddenly turned up. “What happened?”
“Well, I was building a sand castle with my sister and I heard some lady yelling ‘Tim! Tim!’ Like maybe he was in trouble or not paying attention or something. But then when we looked around, we didn’t see where the yelling was coming from, and we didn’t see Timothy or Jonathan either. So maybe it was someone else named Tim.”
“When was this that you heard someone yelling for Tim?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t think I’ve seen Timothy or Jonathan since then.”
And neither had Laurie.
* * *
One ring. Two. Three.
Pick up, Ramon. Pick up the phone.
“Were your ears burning?” Ramon answered midway through the fourth ring.
“Um, what do you mean?”
“Timothy and I were just saying he has never been to Italy before, so now you and Alex will have to go back again after the honeymoon. There are worse burdens, right?”
“So Timmy’s with you?”
“Yes, of course. The top-secret mission, remember?”
“Oh, thank god.” There were plenty of people named some variant of Tim, she reminded herself. Some other beachgoer must have been calling out after one of them.
“Laurie, is everything all right? You sound upset.”
She tried to remain calm as she gave him an abbreviated version of what they knew so far. “Please don’t say anything to Timmy yet, okay? I’m still praying Johnny wandered off and will be back at any moment.”
“Of course,” Ramon said, his voice even.
Timmy had witnessed his father’s murder at the age of three and then lived under the killer’s threat to return for him and Laurie for another five years after that. He seemed drawn to Leo’s police work and her research on cold cases, but she nevertheless tried to do what she could to protect him from unnecessary fear. He had seen enough darkness for six lifetimes already.
As she hung up, she registered a pang of guilt for feeling so grateful that her own son was safe. Her fear was increasing that Johnny was not.
Chapter 7
Seven-year-old Johnny Buckley felt like something was pressing down on him. No, more like someone. He imagined giant arms wrapped around him, but it wasn’t the way his mother or father would hold him. It wasn’t gentle or loving. This felt mean and scary. In his mind, Johnny imagined that the arms didn’t even belong to a person. They belonged to a monster.
The monster was holding him so tight that Johnny could feel the monster’s tummy rumble.
Johnny tried to sit up, but couldn’t move. He was certain his eyes were open, but he couldn’t see anything. He opened his mouth and tried to scream, but couldn’t hear his own voice.
But he could hear… something. A growl. The sound of the monster filled his head. He imagined the monster squeezing him even tighter, and Johnny wondered if he might simply disappear, never to be seen again.
I want Mommy and Daddy.
A loud honking sound broke through the monster’s snarls and pulled Johnny further out of his dreamlike state. The noise felt like it belonged to the world Johnny used to know. When he heard it again, his mind moved away from the monster. He pictured his mother behind the wheel of the minivan, saying, Where does he think I can go? Johnny, someday you’ll learn to drive. Honking your horn in traffic doesn’t do any good.
The sound was the beep-beep of a car horn.
Johnny’s eyes darted side to side as the fog he was in began lifting more quickly. He was finally awake.
He reached for what had been the monster’s arms in his dream and determined that he was wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. The rumble beneath him wasn’t a monster’s stomach, but the rumble of a car on the road.
Two tiny circles of light were visible from the holes for the taillights, but otherwise he was in pitch blackness. He was locked in the trunk of a car.
He had no idea how much time had passed since he’d heard the voice call out to him on the beach. Were his parents looking for him? He wondered where Chloe and Emily thought he went.
Exploring the area within his reach, he found two objects. The first felt soft, like a small pillow. He managed to hold it up against the slivers of light from the back of the car, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
He was able to make out two big round eyes and a pair of moon-shaped ears. It was a stuffed animal. Why is this here? he thought. Why am I here? He set it aside, telling himself he didn’t need a baby’s toy right now.
The second item he found was made of a thin fabric. As he traced his fingers along the edges, trying to make out the shape, grains of sand fell onto his face. It was a hat—not like the baseball caps he liked to collect, but the kind with a rim that goes all the way around, like his Nana used to wear when she went on her and Pop Pop’s boat. In the darkness, there was no way for him to know that it was the same light blue cotton hat that a stranger had worn while he had watched their family earlier in the day.
This wasn’t a dream, but there was a monster, and he was taking Johnny away.
I want to go home.
He clutched the teddy bear to his chest as he started to cry.
Chapter 8
With ever-increasing terror, for the past two hours, Marcy had been in constant action mode—walking the beach, questioning other hotel guests, calling every business within walking distance. Now she was back in their suite, forcing herself to remain still and to focus on the information they had managed to gather so far.
She jumped at the sound of a knock on the door. Andrew opened it. It was Alex, and he was followed in by a woman about her age with long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. “The police are here,” Alex announced.
“I’m Detective Langland,” the woman said. The business card she handed to Marcy gave her full name as Jennifer Langland. She was a detective with the East Hampton Police Department.
Marcy resisted the urge to say something about the police failure to respond until Laurie’s father had called in a favor, but the detective appeared to sense her resentment. “I can’t imagine how worried you must be right now. I’m so sorry that the dispatcher didn’t prioritize the call earlier. It’s no excuse, but we have a critical mass of units called out to a mess of an accident on Main Street.”