Linwood Barclay - The Twenty-Three

Will be away much of today but hope to connect late afternoon. Sorry about this.

David sent the text.

He was about to put his phone away when he saw the telltale dots that told him Finley was writing a reply.

Fine.

That didn’t sound like the Finley David knew. Where was the outrage? The bluster? The guilt-tripping?

Maybe, David thought, he’d been terminated. Maybe Finley’s short response meant he had found someone else to work for him. David wasn’t sure whether to be hurt or relieved. He didn’t like working for the man, but he also needed the job.

David phoned him.

“Am I fired?” David asked when Finley answered.

“I don’t know,” Finley said.

“Look, I know I’ve had some things going on, but I’m hoping to get them all sorted out. I’ve got to take a run up to Lake Luzerne today, but once I’m done up there, I can-”

“Jane’s dead.”

Finley filled him in. A stunned David didn’t know what to say beyond that he was sorry.

“I may pull out,” Finley said. “I’m thinking, the hell with it.”

“Don’t make a decision right away,” David counseled. “Take care… of what you have to take care of. Give it some time. Then decide.”

“You don’t understand,” he said.

“Don’t understand what?”

“She was the reason,” Finley said.

David started to say something else but realized Finley had ended the call.

“What happened?” Arlene asked as Don came into the room.

David shook his head and asked, “Can you look after Ethan today?”

Don asked, “Can we have coffee today or is the water still going to kill us?”

Arlene asked her son, “Do you know? Is the water safe yet?”

“They should have it fixed by now,” Don said. “I don’t know why the hell they can’t have it fixed by now. They should have been able to flush the system. I’ve half a mind to go over to the plant myself and see what the hell they’re doing.”

“Yes,” Arlene said. “I’m sure they’d welcome your input.”

If I don’t have a job, David thought, I’ll be losing this house and moving back in with them.

“Can you look after Ethan?” he asked again.

“Of course,” Arlene said.

David was out the door.

David didn’t have GPS built into his car, or even one of those stick-on mini-nav systems that could be put atop the dashboard. But he had looked up the location for Camp Sunrise on his phone’s map app. He wasn’t expecting it to be difficult to find.

He was there in just over an hour, and along the way he had to think about just what the purpose of this trip was. Was his search for Sam solely motivated by concern for her, or was this more about him?

About half-and-half, he concluded.

He was, without a doubt, worried for her safety. Brandon was looking for her, and he wanted to be sure Sam and her son were safe, that Brandon had not found them. But he also realized Sam was no fool. The fact that she’d gotten herself and Carl out of town so quickly was evidence of that.

But that wasn’t enough for David. He had to know .

And, he admitted to himself, he wanted Sam to know he cared enough to look for her.

When he reached Camp Sunrise, he found a small, tollbooth-like structure between the entrance and exit lanes. It was designed to look like a mini log cabin, with wooden gates in the raised position on both sides. There was no one in the booth, so there was nothing to stop him from driving straight in.

It wasn’t even nine in the morning yet, and the camp was a sleepy place. Few people were out and about, but as he drove the narrow, winding roads that led through the forested grounds, he noticed exceptions. There was a man frying up some bacon on a Coleman stove set up on a picnic table. At another campsite, a woman was running an extension cord from an electrical post to a cappuccino maker resting on the top of a stump.

“Roughing it,” David said under his breath.

David didn’t see any empty campsites. This was a long weekend, and it seemed a safe bet that the place was filled to capacity. There were tents, small trailers, and those hybrid tent-trailer things, with two wheels and a metal chassis, that opened up to sleep four or more people.

Driving slowly through the camp, David did not see Sam or Carl anywhere, and even if they were still sleeping in their tent, he saw no car that looked like hers. He made his way back to where he’d turned in off the main road, and saw that there was now someone in the booth. He pulled up alongside it and powered down the window.

“Help ya?” said a man-no, more like a kid about seventeen-at the window.

“I’m not staying here,” David said. “I’m trying to find somebody.”

“Okay.”

“Samantha Worthington,” he said. “She probably checked in Thursday night. She’s with her son, about nine or ten, and they’d have pitched a tent. They don’t have a trailer or anything like that.” He thought maybe he needed a reason to be looking for them. “There’s kind of a family emergency back home and we’ve been trying to locate them.”

The kid appeared to be consulting a book, or maybe a laptop. David couldn’t see from where he sat.

“I don’t have anything here. No Worthington,” he said. “When did you say they arrived?”

“Thursday, probably.”

“Did they have a reservation?”

David was betting Samantha had not made one. If she’d just found out about Brandon’s escape, there wouldn’t have been time. She’d have thrown everything they needed into the car and just taken off.

“I doubt it,” David said.

“Well, if they didn’t, they wouldn’t have been able to get in. All the sites had been booked ahead by Wednesday.”

David felt deflated. He’d played a hunch and it had been wrong. But just because Sam wasn’t here didn’t mean she couldn’t have tried another campsite in the area.

“Thanks,” he said to the kid. He drove out of the park, then pulled over onto the shoulder of the road to consult the Web browser on his phone, thinking he’d get the names and locations of other nearby campsites.

Except he couldn’t get online. He had no bars on his phone. He couldn’t get cell service here.

Maybe that was why Samantha hadn’t taken any of his calls, or tried to get in touch with him. He felt simultaneously discouraged and encouraged. He believed he was on the right track, but was still no closer to finding them.

He got out of the car and walked back to the booth.

“If you’re full up, where might you send someone to try next?”

The kid in the booth didn’t hesitate. “Probably Call of the Loon.”

“What?”

“I know, seriously. A pretty dumb name for a place. Call of the Loon Acres. About five more miles up the road that way. They try to squeeze in extras even when they’re booked solid.”

“Thanks,” David said, and ran back to the car.

Duckworth

WHENthe alarm went off at six, I was dreaming. It was more a nightmare than a dream, but no one ever says they were nightmaring. But that’s a more accurate word for what I was doing when the clock radio started to beep.

I’m in the park by the falls. It’s dusk and I am standing on the sidewalk by the road that runs parallel to the park.

I hear screaming. It seems to be coming from all directions. I turn and look one way, thinking that is where the screams are originating. But I no sooner spin around than the screams seem to be coming from behind me. I keep spinning round and round, and pretty soon it’s as though the screams are coming from everywhere.

I am turning and turning to the point of dizziness. Finally I stop, pretty sure the screams are not all around me, but near the base of the falls. I start walking in that direction; then I feel a tap on my shoulder.