C. Box - The Highway

“Maybe,” Cody said. “But those roads are remote and the place is under the jurisdiction of the National Park Service. The feds do things their own way. Not a lot of people travel through Yellowstone this late in the fall. It would be possible to have an accident and not get help for a couple of hours.”

“Which means,” Jenny cut in as she returned from the kitchen, “those girls might be hurt. And if that’s the case, we need to find out where they are and let their parents know what’s going on.”

Cody asked, “Do you know if they were in touch with their mom in Colorado?”

And, if possible, Justin’s face turned even whiter than it had before.

* * *

“What the hell do you mean she doesn’t know?” Cody shouted.

“It was Danielle’s decision not to tell her,” Justin said, staring at his shoes. “She lied and said they were driving to Nebraska to be with their dad for Thanksgiving.”

“Ted?” Cody said, “Ted is in on this?” He recalled Ted Sullivan with distaste. But as soon as he said it he wasn’t surprised. He said to Cassie, “Ted Sullivan is a pain in the ass. He thinks the way to be a father is to be best buddies with his kids and let them do whatever the hell they want so they’ll like him, even though that almost got them killed before.”

“Justin,” Jenny said, “I can’t believe you went along with this. How are we supposed to call Danielle’s mother and tell her we don’t know where her daughters are?”

“I know,” Justin whispered.

“But we’ve got to call her,” Cody said. “And maybe, just maybe, she’s heard from them. And what about Ted? Do you think he’s been in contact with them?”

Justin shrugged.

“What a mess,” Cody said, sitting back in the chair. His headache was getting worse.

“Cody,” Jenny said, “What are we going to do?”

He rubbed his eyes. “First, I need a couple of ibuprofen. Then I’ll call the highway patrol,” Cody said. “I’ll find out from the dispatcher if anybody has reported an accident or a breakdown between Gardiner and Bozeman. If not, I’ll try to raise somebody in law enforcement in the park to see if they know anything.”

“And if they didn’t?” Jenny asked.

“I’ll put the word out to start looking for them. Justin, what kind of car is she driving?”

Justin said, “It’s a little red Ford Focus. I don’t know the year but it’s used.”

“Do you know the license plate number by any chance?”

“P-L-N-T-D-N-L.”

Cody wrote it down on the palm of his hand. “What does that mean?” he asked.

Justin smiled a little when he said, “Planet Danielle.”

“Planet Danielle,” Cody repeated, shaking his aching head.

* * *

While Cody downed five ibuprofen tablets in the kitchen he felt a presence behind him. Expecting Jenny, he turned so she could let him have it. He was surprised to find Cassie.

“Let me help you with this,” she said.

He waved her away. “What is it you propose to do?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But it’s the least I can do.”

“That’s true. But I’m not even sure what you could do at this point.”

“Then let me know when you figure something out,” she said.

“Run out and get me a bottle of Wild Turkey,” he said.

“Except that.”

9:35 P.M., Tuesday, November 20

Gracie rolled over and felt like throwing up but she couldn’t open her mouth because it was taped shut. She knew if she got sick she could choke to death. In a primal reaction, her eyes bulged wide as she tried to control the rising waves of nausea. Her belly heaved but she fought against it, willing herself to stay calm, willing her body to try not to expel what was inside her stomach. Although she was conscious she couldn’t see a thing. Was she blindfolded as well? If so, she couldn’t feel the blindfold.

Although she couldn’t see, she had the impression she was in a long dark metal cylinder of some kind. It was dark and cold and the ground was pitching and she thought, I’m in a spaceship. The steel floor trembled and shook, it smelled of sawdust and varnish. She tried to reach out to push herself to her hands and knees but her limbs wouldn’t respond. Her stomach ached and splashes of color and sound swirled behind her eyes until she closed them again. She managed to roll to the side until her progress was stopped by something long, still, and stiff. It gave a little under the pressure from her body and she thought she felt the knob of a knee or an elbow in her ribs.

She scooted back, then rolled again toward the object so she was on her side facing it. She used the crown of her head to poke at the object to try and determine what it was. The middle was stiff but elastic. Further up was a soft rise-breasts-and she could make out the jut of a chin and then a brow. But the object didn’t move or breathe and the crackling and rustling sound she heard meant it was covered in some kind of plastic. The realization overcame her: Her sister was dead and cloaked in plastic sheeting .

Instinctively, Gracie scrambled away, inadvertently kicking the body. She was horrified and couldn’t process what she’d found.

Her progress was stopped by another object. It took her a moment to realize that the body now pressing against her back was heavy, warm, and still.

Danielle. She recognized her sister by her scent. But unlike the other body, Danielle was surely alive if still under. Gracie snuggled against her sister, spooning with her in reverse, feeling the warmth against her back and hearing slow, labored breathing.

She tried not to think of the other body but she wondered who it had been and why it was there.

* * *

Gracie tried to remember what had happened but it came in erratic bolts of mental videotape: the blinding headlights of the big truck pulling in behind them, the flash of pure white clothing as the driver, who appeared as a silhouette framed by the high headlights, had swarmed her, locking her head in the crook of his arm, and the sharp bite of a needle in her thigh. Locking up, feeling her consciousness fade away, impulses in her brain misfiring …

Then nothing, and even now she wasn’t sure if she was awake or dreaming or in some kind of state in between.

Gracie tried to say, “Danielle?” to the body beside her but her voice was muffled. She realized her hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were tied or taped together as well.

She bent her head back and thrust out her chin, still fighting the nausea, and felt an edge of the tape near her jawbone come loose. Pinpricks of sweat broke across her scalp and forehead as she tried to hold it in. Then, by dropping her chin to her chest and catching the loose adhesive of the free corner of the tape to her collar, she was able to wrench her head to the left and tear more of the tape from her mouth. Her lips felt suddenly cool from being exposed to air, and she wretched, emptying the contents of her stomach on the steel floor until there was nothing left.

Then she wiped her mouth the best she could by rubbing it against the clothing on her shoulder, and leaned in closer to her sister and said, “Danielle?”

Her sister didn’t respond. She breathed in the smell of Danielle’s hair, and closed her eyes and burrowed through the thick dark hair until her chin was against her sister’s throat. She could feel a slow pulse beneath Danielle’s skin and the swell of her sister’s breasts as she breathed.

“Thank God,” she whispered. Then, to Danielle: “Wake up, Danny. Please wake up.”

But despite her pleading, Danielle didn’t stir or open her eyes.

That’s when she heard a squeal beneath the floor of the room-the squeal of brakes.