Харлан Кобен - The Boy from the Woods

Obvious conclusion: She packed clothes into that pink backpack.

Wilde shifted his gaze back to the bed and the stuffed animals. He closed his eyes for a second, tried to recall what the bed looked like last time he was here, hoping that he’d be able to tell if any were missing. But it was pointless. If one or more of them were missing, it might confirm the fact that Naomi intentionally ran. But did he need that extra proof?

“She ran away,” Wilde said to him.

“You can’t know that.”

“Mr. Pine?”

“I’d prefer it if you called me Bernie.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Bernie?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You know more than you’re saying.”

He started rubbing his chin. Wilde tried to read him. Nothing was coming through clearly. Was he a loving albeit distracted father? Or was there something more? There was definitely a quality in the man he didn’t trust. Was Bernard Pine a danger or was Wilde just being his usual cynical self?

Then: “Naomi sent me this text yesterday.”

Pine handed Wilde his phone. The message was two short sentences:

Don’t worry. I’m safe.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Pine said.

Not much question about it now. Backpack and clothes gone. No signs or hints of any abduction. No ransom or demands or anything like that. Now throw in the other factors — the heightened bullying, her past history of running off, the failed Challenge game.

The conclusion was obvious.

“There’s something else you should know,” Pine said.

Wilde looked at him.

“Someone hurt her.” His eyes were wet now. “And I’m not talking about the usual bullying.”

“What are you talking about then?”

“Physically.”

The room went still.

“You better explain,” Wilde said.

It took him a little time to gather himself. Pine stared down at his hand. He had a school ring with a garnet stone. He started twisting it around his finger. “When I came home from work the day before she disappeared, Naomi had a frozen bag of peas on her right eye. It was black the next morning.”

“Did you ask her about it?”

“Of course.”

Wilde waited. Bernard Pine started biting hard on his thumbnail.

“She said she walked into a door.”

“Did you believe her?”

“Of course I didn’t believe her,” he snapped. “But that’s all she would say. You ever try to get a teenager to tell you something? You can’t force it out of them. She said she was fine and went up to her room.”

“Did you check up on her?”

“You don’t have kids, do you, Wilde?”

Wilde took that as a no.

“It’s all connected,” Pine said.

“What is?”

“That game of Challenge, those kids who were picking on her, the fact that she’s gone again. Something isn’t right.” He tilted his head and looked at Wilde as though seeing him for the first time. “Why were you so invested in my daughter?”

Wilde didn’t reply.

“Did you even know Naomi before that night?”

“No.”

“Yet you broke into my house to find her. A girl you didn’t even know. Why would you do that?”

That was when Bernard Pine pulled out a handgun.

Wilde didn’t hesitate. The moment he realized what was happening he was already on the move. No one with a gun expects that. Not at first. One of the two men in this room — Wilde — was highly trained in combat. The other wasn’t. Pine had made the mistake of standing too close. Wilde took a quick step toward him. With one hand, he snatched the gun. With the other, he formed a classic chop and delivered it without much force to Pine’s throat. If you throw that blow too hard, you do permanent damage. Wilde was just aiming for a choke, a gag reflex, a muscle release.

It did the trick.

Pine staggered back, one hand on his neck, the other waving in some sort of surrender. The weapon now in Wilde’s hand felt light. He popped the revolver’s chamber open and checked.

No bullets.

Pine had his voice back. “I was just trying to scare you.”

Idiot , Wilde thought. But he said nothing.

“You get it, right? You break into my house, you start some kind of relationship with my daughter — you, the weirdo who lives alone in the woods. I mean, if you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you wonder?”

“I don’t know where your daughter is.”

“So explain it to me then: Who got you involved in finding her during the Challenge game?”

Wilde wasn’t about to tell him. But when he stepped back and looked at it objectively, Pine did raise an interesting point. Matthew had never really explained it all, had he?

“Give me your phone,” Wilde said.

“What, why?”

Wilde just held out his hand. Pine handed it over. Wilde clicked the message button and found the text from Naomi saying Don’t worry, I’m safe. He skimmed up to see the rest of the conversation. He stopped.

“What?” Pine asked.

There were no other texts between the two of them — between father and daughter.

“What happened to the rest of the messages?”

“What?”

“I assume this wasn’t the first time you and Naomi texted.”

“No, of course not. Wait, what are you doing?”

Wilde checked the call history. Yes, there were phone calls to Naomi. But not many. The last had been more than a month ago.

“Where are the rest of the texts between you two?”

“What, I don’t know. They should be there.”

“They’re not.”

Pine shrugged. “Can someone delete them?”

Someone can. The user of the phone.

“Why would you get rid of your messages with your own daughter?”

“I didn’t. Maybe Naomi cleared them out.”

Not likely.

Wilde started typing.

“What are you doing?” Pine asked.

Wilde ignored him. He typed into the message field:

Hey, Naomi, it’s Wilde.

She may not think it’s really him. She may think it’s her father tricking her.

Aka Boo Radley.

Only she would get that reference.

I’m using your dad’s phone. He’s worried about you. So am I. Let me know you’re okay.

Wilde gave his current burner number and told her she could text or call. Then he tossed the phone back to Pine, but he pocketed the weapon.

It was time to talk to Matthew. He headed for the door.

“Will you help me?” Pine asked.

Wilde didn’t break stride. “I’ll help Naomi.”

As soon as he was out of the Pine house, Wilde checked the burner number he’d texted to Naomi, hoping for a quick response.

Nothing.

If Naomi had just run off, wouldn’t she reply to him right away? He might be deluding himself, but he thought so. There had been some sort of connection between them in that basement, two outcasts who kind of understood one another, but again maybe that was more him projecting than anything substantive.

He texted Matthew:

You home?

The dots danced before the word “Ya” popped up.

Mind if I come by?

Matthew’s reply was a thumbs-up emoji.

As Wilde took to the woods, he called Hester.

“Articulate,” she said as she picked up.

“What?”

“A friend of mine says that when he answers. I thought it was cute. What’s up?”

“Naomi Pine is missing again.”

“I heard.”

“How?”

She cleared her throat. “Oren told me.” Her voice sounded a little funny.

“What did he say?”

“That her dad came to him. That he made a big fuss but she probably ran away again.”

“The dad came to me too.”

“What does it look like?” Hester asked.

“Like she ran away on her own.”

He filled her in on the missing clothes and backpack and text to her dad not to worry.