Diane Chamberlain - The Lost Daughter

“Is that it?” Marty leaned even farther between the seats to peer out the front window.

CeeCee spotted a road veering off to the right.

“Yeah,” Marty answered his own question. “Turn here.”

Tim did as he was told. They were on a rutted dirt road, so tightly surrounded by pines and shrubs that the sun was stolen from them and branches scraped the side of the van. It was three in the afternoon, but it might as well have been evening for all the light on the road.

They grew quiet as they bounced along. The cassette tape ended, but CeeCee didn’t even notice. In the silence, she could almost hear her heart beating. In a few minutes, everything would change and their journey would begin in earnest. Guiltily she hoped something would interfere with their plan. The kidnapping was to occur the following night. Maybe the woman would be ill and unable to teach her class. Maybe the people they were going to stay with would talk Tim and Marty out of the whole crazy idea.

She’d told Ronnie and George that she was taking Thanksgiving week off to visit a high-school friend who now lived in Pennsylvania. George was annoyed, but Ronnie was so supportive that CeeCee felt guilty.

“You need to get away,” Ronnie said. “You’ve been so down since the breakup with Tim.”

She wasn’t depressed, but she’d apparently done a good job of acting as though she were. She saw Tim nearly as much as before the so-called breakup. She’d lie to Ronnie about meeting a friend for dinner, then go to Tim’s house for lovemaking and reassurance that everything would turn out all right.

“You sure this is it?” Tim asked now, after they’d driven through the dark tunnel of trees for several minutes.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Marty said. A house suddenly appeared in a small clearing on the right. “That’s it,” he said.

The house was tiny, the white paint peeling. Smoke rose from the crumbling top of the brick chimney. A rusting swing set stood near the woods, and a little girl swung on it, leaning back so far that her long blond hair dusted the ground. Three cars, ancient and rusting, sat in the weeds on the other side of the house, and a truck and an old VW bus were parked next to them.

“Looks like Forrest has a leak,” Marty said, and CeeCee noticed a man on the roof spreading a piece of blue sheet plastic over the shingles. He stood up as they pulled in behind the old cars, and he hesitated a moment before heading for the ladder that rested against the eaves.

Two mangy dogs, barking and baring teeth, ran up to the van as CeeCee and the men started to get out. She was afraid of the dogs, but she didn’t want Tim to think she was a chicken. If she couldn’t handle two dogs, how was she going to handle the task she’d agreed to?

“Hi, fellas,” she said, holding her arms close to her sides. The dogs sniffed her legs, tails rising into uncertain wags.

The man climbed down the ladder from the roof and approached them. He was tall, bearded and big-boned but not overweight. He looked like someone accustomed to physical work. He wiped his hand on the rag hanging from his belt, then reached out to shake Marty’s.

“What’s the buzz, bro?” he asked.

“Not much,” Marty answered. “This is my brother, Tim, and his girlfriend, CeeCee. And this is Forrest.”

The little girl ran from the swing set and grabbed on to Forrest’s leg. “Is this the company?” she asked.

Forrest rested one big hand on the child’s head. “Yes, honey,” he said, then to the three of them, “And this is Dahlia.”

“I’m five,” Dahlia said.

CeeCee laughed nervously, charmed by the little girl’s blue-eyed beauty. “Wow, five,” she said. “Are you in kindergarten?”

“Mommy teaches me,” Dahlia said. “Where does your hair end?” She let go of her father to walk behind CeeCee. “It’s all the way to your bottom!” she said, delighted. “I’m going to grow my hair that long.”

“Leave her alone, Dahlia,” Forrest said. His voice was gruff, all business. “You guys have any trouble finding us?”

“No problem,” Tim said. “We’ll just have to figure out how to get from here to the cabin.”

It was the first time the cabin had been mentioned on this trip, but as much as she would have liked to, CeeCee had not forgotten about it. That was where she would create the prison for the governor’s wife.

“I’ve got a map you can take a look at,” Forrest said.

“Great.” Tim nodded.

They followed Forrest through the front door. The inside of the house was an unexpected contrast to the ramshackle exterior. There was a fire in the small fireplace and the living room smelled of smoke and something else, something savory. The furniture was old and threadbare, but the room was neat and cozy. They walked through the living room into a kitchen, where a woman, dressed in a long pale yellow skirt and blue-trimmed peasant blouse, pulled a loaf of bread from the oven.

“Smells good in here,” Tim said.

The woman set the bread next to two other loaves on the counter and shut the oven door. She did not look pleased to see them.

“Naomi,” Forrest said, as he lifted Dahlia onto his shoulders. “You remember Marty?”

“You shouldn’t have come here, Marty,” the woman said. Her shoulder-length hair was light brown, part of it caught in a barrette on the back of her head.

Marty ignored her comment. “This is Tim and his girlfriend, CeeCee,” he said.

A small cry came from the corner of the room, and CeeCee noticed a cradle near the doorway. Naomi walked over to it and lifted a baby into her arms. She walked out of the room, jostling the baby, cooing to him.

“She’s upset you’re here,” Forrest said, looking toward the door through which Naomi had disappeared. “You have to understand, it’s been years for us. We’ve got a good life here and she’s afraid you’ll screw it up.”

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Marty said.

“I know.” Forrest reached over his head to tickle his daughter, who giggled and covered his eyes with her hands. “Don’t get me wrong,” Forrest said, prying Dahlia’s hands from his face. “Naomi’s got a good heart. She knows what you’re doing and supports you in it, but she doesn’t want us to be part of it. So I’m telling you boys—” he looked from Marty to Tim “—forget you were ever here. You, too, CeeCee. You can stay with us tonight and we’ll give you a car, like I said, but once you’re out of here, you just forget you ever saw the place.”

“A car?” CeeCee asked. Why did they need a car?

“You’ll need one when this is over,” Tim said. “You know, when Marty and I take off. You’ll have to go back to—” He suddenly slapped his forehead with his palm. “Damn!” he said. “You probably don’t even have your license yet, do you?”

“I do. I’m supposed to have an adult with me, but I know how to drive.” She cringed. She’d said adult as though she were not one herself, but Tim didn’t seem to notice.

“Good,” he said. “That’s great. So you can use one of Forrest’s.”

“Not just use it,” Forrest corrected. “ Keep it. We’ve got more than we need, and like I said, we don’t want any of you coming back here leaving a trail behind you for the pigs to follow.”

“What pigs, Daddy?” Dahlia asked.

Forrest lifted Dahlia off his shoulders and set her on the floor. He leaned down. “The little pig that went to market,” he said.

Dahlia ran out of the room, squealing with laughter as her father chased after her.

Tim turned to Marty. “You said they’d be happy to help us,” he said. “Overjoyed. Isn’t that the word you used?”

“Fuck off,” Marty said. “It’s gonna be fine.”