The Children of the Lost Read online

  “And that stuff about a ‘bad’ daddy versus a ‘real’ daddy—that all makes sense if Farley disapproved of Jacob and knew he was Justin’s biological grandfather,” said Frank.

  Rich looked as if he were still thinking it over too. “What about after Justin disappeared?” he asked, turning back to Edie. “What did Farley say then?”

  Edie shrugged, then dabbed at her eyes again. “He told us how sorry he was, and I thought he was sincere,” she said. “But he told me he truly thought Justin had been attacked by an animal. When the disappearances continued, he always upheld that they were animal attacks, not crimes. And he asked me to protect his privacy and avoid a scandal by not telling anyone about his relation to Justin.” She paused, glancing apologetically at Rich. “That’s why I felt it was okay not to tell you about his connection to Justin.”

  The detective blinked and nodded, as though he understood. He looked over at Dr. Carrini. “Still think those were false memories?” he asked, almost challengingly.

  Dr. Carrini looked surprised, as though he didn’t think we remembered he was there. But soon his expression turned to one of resignation. “I don’t know what to think,” he admitted slowly. “I can’t say for certain either way. What you’re saying certainly seems to make sense.”

  Rich nodded at Frank and me, then placed his hand on his holster and backed away. “If you’ll excuse us, then,” he said, glancing around at Edie, Hank, Chloe, and the two doctors. “I think we need to pay a visit to Farley O’Keefe.”

  That’s when Edie began to sob in earnest.

  • • •

  Farley’s log cabin in the forest looked almost disturbingly normal, considering what we now expected he could be involved in. His Jeep was parked in the driveway and a neatly manicured pathway led up to a green front door. I don’t know what I was expecting—dungeons in the basement? Kids being used for slave labor in the yard?—but this peaceful home was not it.

  Rich led us to the front door and held up his hand to knock. When his knuckle hit the door, though, it gave way and swung open a few inches—it was unlocked, not even latched. He glanced at us, raising an eyebrow.

  “Farley?” he called. “Farley, it’s Rich—can we come in and talk to you?”

  No answer.

  Glancing back at us with a confused look, Rich pushed the door open all the way. The sound of a television hit us immediately—a talk show was playing at a normal volume. I glanced at my brother and shrugged. Odd to think of a mountain man like Farley settling down for an episode of Maury.

  “Farley!” Rich called again. “Farley!”

  Besides the television sounds, there was only silence.

  Stepping into the living room, Rich frowned. “His Jeep’s in the driveway,” he said. “He can’t have gone far.”

  Frank nodded. “Maybe he’s off on a hike?”

  I looked around. “Odd that he would leave the TV on,” I observed. I was beginning to get a creepy feeling. Were we walking into a trap?

  Rich sighed. “Well, let’s take a quick look around. Maybe he’s napping. He is getting older, and maybe his hearing’s not what it used to be.”

  Maybe, I thought. But the creepy feeling still prickled at the back of my neck. If Farley really were involved in the disappearances of the Misty Falls Lost, that made him a pretty bad guy. And if he was willing to put in all that effort to freak out Frank and me at our campsite in the middle of the night, what might he be willing to do to us if we entered his home?

  Even though we didn’t exchange words, a quick look at Frank told me that he shared my concern. We stuck close to Rich as we slowly moved from room to room, Rich holding his gun at the ready, still calling, “Farley? Farley!”

  The entire downstairs was clear, and a large window in the den was open, with the screen up.

  “Do you think he escaped on foot?” Frank asked. “Could he have known we were coming?”

  I nodded, thinking. “Maybe he realized he left his knife at the campsite this morning?”

  Rich sighed. “If that’s true, he could be anywhere in the park right now,” he said. “Farley would know all the nooks and crannies to hide in. And he could live in the wilderness pretty much indefinitely, with his skills.”

  That’s when we heard a clunk from upstairs.

  Rich glanced at us, then wordlessly nodded toward the stairs. He began climbing, and the two of us followed quietly. Upstairs, there were only two rooms—a guest bedroom, which was open and empty, and a closed door that led, I assumed, to Farley’s bedroom.

  Rich held out his gun, gestured to the two of us to hang back, and then put his hand on the door.

  I swallowed hard. Was Farley in there?

  It all happened in a flash. Rich pushed hard on the door and called, “Police! Farley, are you in there?” He aimed his gun into the room, but we were met by silence. The door faced another open window, but there were no human sounds inside.

  Rich walked in, and Frank and I followed hot on his heels.

  We only walked a few steps before Rich gasped and stopped short.

  I followed his eyes and screamed.

  There, on the bed, was Farley—or what remained of Farley. He was covered in blood, having been stabbed multiple times in the chest. A knife—I realized, after a moment, that it was bone-handled—lay on the floor. It was probably what we’d heard fall a few moments earlier. It must be Farley’s own knife, which meant the knife our intruder had left wasn’t his.

  Blood soaked the white bedspread he lay on, and as my eye traveled up, I saw it:

  L-O-S-T, scrawled in Farley’s own blood, at the head of the bed.

  Helpless

  All right. So the culprit wasn’t Farley. Or else, Farley was involved somehow, but so was someone else. Or, more likely, Farley knew something about the abductions that someone else wanted to keep secret, and that person was willing to murder Farley to keep him from sharing what he knew.

  Whichever it was, we were now without suspects.

  And our last night was coming on fast.

  • • •

  “Rich,” I said quietly when he brought us to his car to drive us back to the campsite, “we’re so sorry about Farley.”

  Farley’s cabin was now swarming with police, and Rich looked exhausted and sad. I knew that they weren’t best friends, but Misty Falls was a small town, and he had to be upset by the brutal murder of someone he’d known for years.

  “Yeah,” agreed Joe. “He was a little gruff with us, but generally he seemed like a nice guy. And it’s too bad Justin had to lose his biological grandfather.”

  Rich was still for a minute, but then he nodded, catching Joe’s eye in the rearview mirror. “I appreciate that,” he said, “although I’m realizing there was a lot more to Farley than met the eye. Makes you wonder how well you really ever know your neighbors.”

  Joe and I nodded slowly, thinking that over, as Rich put the car in gear and pulled away from the crime scene.

  “Rich,” I said after a couple minutes had passed, “I don’t want to take your attention away from Farley’s murder, but I think something is going to happen at our campsite tonight, and we may have one last chance to find the person who’s trying to scare us away.”

  Rich nodded. “I’ve thought about that,” he agreed. “If the person harassing you is spelling L-O-S-T, and they almost certainly are, that means tonight is the last night.”

  Joe leaned forward. “Exactly.”

  “I’m going to guard you myself tonight, boys,” Rich went on, “and I’m bringing another officer with me. After what happened today, I want to make sure you’re kept safe at the park. And I agree with your thinking. This might be our final chance to catch someone who knows something about these disappearances, and about Farley’s murder, too.”

  • • •

  That night, our tent was a little crowded. Rich and his fellow officer, Kurt Donnelly, the twenty-something redhead we’d met on our first day, insisted on joining us inside the ten
t rather than give away to the mystery intruder that we were being guarded in any way. Even with the police in our tent, I had to admit, I was feeling nervous. It wasn’t that I expected something to happen with the police there, exactly—it was that I didn’t know what to expect. And that freaked me out a little. Okay, a lot.

  Still, after we settled into our tent and turned off our flashlights, it was dead silent. Rich and Officer Donnelly had told Joe and me that we could sleep if we wanted—they would stay awake to guard the site—but I couldn’t relax enough to drift off. After a few minutes, though, I heard Joe’s breathing turn heavy and slow, and I knew he’d drifted off. My heart was pounding a mile a minute, though. I struggled to take even breaths.

  It felt like endless hours ticked by, but it was probably only an hour or two. I didn’t hear a thing other than the occasional sigh or throat-clearing from Rich and Officer Donnelly. I was beginning to wonder—what if this was all meant to psych us out? What if our mystery intruder never intended to come back tonight? Or maybe he’d heard about Farley, or he was responsible for Farley (that thought made me shiver), and he decided to take the night off?

  It must have been around one or two in the morning when I heard it. A slow shuffling sound, like a big man dragging himself through the woods. It was far away at first, several yards into the trees. But it got closer.

  And closer.

  And closer.

  I felt my heart speed up, just as Rich turned on a small flashlight and looked from me to Officer Donnelly. His expression was serious; he heard it too.

  The sound was just feet away from the tent now; there was definitely someone out there. Rich, Officer Donnelly, and I sprang to our feet. As Rich was unzipping the tent and we were all peeking out, I heard it: a low, menacing, angry growl.

  At that point, several things happened at once. As Rich, Officer Donnelly, and I crawled out of the tent, I heard Joe wake up and ask, “What’s going on?” But at that moment, Officer Donnelly screamed, and I launched myself to my feet to see what was up.

  And oh, my gosh. It was right there—just feet away. As I struggled to swallow my scream, the smell hit me.

  Just an arm’s length away from me was a giant grizzly bear!

  It growled again, clearly having designs on me for dinner, and I sprang backward faster than I ever have in my life. For the next few seconds I was aware only of running and gasping for air, but then I heard the chaos I’d left behind me. The bear had turned away from me—thank God—and was headed toward Rich, who had tripped over a log near the fire pit and was struggling to get up. Behind the tent, Officer Donnelly was screaming again. Just then, I saw my brother poke his head out of the tent and realize what was going on. His eyes widened in alarm, and right at that moment a rock came sailing from Officer Donnelly from directly behind the tent, and it hit the bear squarely over its left eye.

  The bear let out a furious bellow, turning toward the tent and my brother. My heart pounded in my chest and I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Officer Donnelly must have panicked; even Joe and I knew not to throw anything at an angry bear. Now the bear was advancing on my brother, and Joe was trapped by the tent—there weren’t many places for him to go.

  “Joe!” Rich screamed. “Run! Run now!”

  My brother seemed to spring to life as the bear suddenly lurched forward and swung an angry claw in Joe’s direction. He wasn’t fast enough, though—the bear swiped him hard along his shoulder, leaving a nasty wound. Joe darted back into the tent then, pushing against the fabric of the walls so hard that the tent uprooted from the ground. I could see the outline of my brother’s hands from inside the tent, scrabbling for the place where our earlier attacker had slashed it with the knife, trying to find a way to escape.

  Just then there was a mighty shot, then another, and suddenly the bear swayed on its feet and fell forward, toward the fire pit. I turned and saw Rich holding a tranquilizer gun. He must have managed to get it from the stainless steel cooler where he and Officer Donnelly had stored extra supplies. For a moment, there was silence.

  We’d been attacked by a real bear.

  And we’d won!

  I sprang into action, running toward the tent and my brother. Scrambling around the huge, unconscious bear, I grabbed the zipper opening and pulled it open. Joe was sitting inside, cradling his shoulder in his other arm. He looked pale, and he was bleeding a lot—but he was going to be okay. It was clearly just a flesh wound.

  “Joe,” I breathed.

  “I’m okay, Frank,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “That was pretty gnarly, though.”

  I chuckled softly. “Yeah, I guess Farley was right,” I said, remembering his warning that a bear had been spotted in the area.

  “He was right tonight,” Joe corrected me, “but I think we’re way beyond all of this being the work of some bear.”

  • • •

  Everyone agreed that Joe was going to be all right, but Rich insisted on taking him to the hospital to be cleaned up and given antibiotics. He left me with Officer Donnelly, who was still apologizing profusely for throwing the rock.

  “I should have known better,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I just panicked when I saw it go after Rich . . .”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I told him, settling back into the tent. “I freaked out pretty badly when I saw it going after Joe, too. I would have done about anything to distract that bear.”

  Officer Donnelly nodded and sighed. “That was awfully scary,” he admitted.

  It sure was. Joe and I had been exposed to a lot of freaky things in our work for ATAC, but that was about the closest I’d ever been to being mauled by a wild animal—or worse, to watching it maul my brother.

  “You can get some sleep if you want,” Officer Donnelly offered. “I’ll stay up and take the first watch.”

  “Thanks,” I said, dutifully climbing into my sleeping bag. Bear notwithstanding, we still thought our intruder might show up again tonight. I settled down on my pillow, but I seriously doubted I’d be able to fall asleep after all the excitement we’d just experienced, and who knew what excitement was still to come?

  The next thing I knew, though, my eyes were fluttering open. I didn’t know what time it was, but it had to be hours later. It was still dark outside. I heard footsteps near the tent, and I sprang up from my sleeping bag. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized I was alone in the tent. Officer Donnelly’s hat and badge were lying on the floor and the tent opening was unzipped, flapping in the breeze.

  An uneasy feeling washed over me. Was that Officer Donnelly I’d heard outside? If it was—why had he left his hat and badge inside?

  I blinked, my mind still fuzzy from sleep. I heard a noise again, and crept toward the tent opening—I had to check this out. I had to push myself into action.

  Outside, it was dark. I took my flashlight with me, but I wanted to avoid turning it on. Something told me that if it wasn’t Officer Donnelly I was hearing—if it were something much worse—then I didn’t want to announce my presence.

  I waited a moment for my eyes to adjust further, then looked around the campsite. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Before he’d left with Joe, Rich had called the park’s animal-control officer, and a team had come and taken the bear away on a truck to transport him closer to his known habitat. There were still prints and marks from where the bear had fallen, but otherwise, the campsite looked as it always had.

  I walked toward the river and looked out over it, then to the right and left. Nothing unusual, just the soft gush of water flowing and the dancing of moonlight on the water. That left the woods. I took a deep breath and walked through the campsite toward them.

  The woods, too, were quiet. I walked slowly around the perimeter of the campsite, still not seeing anything unusual—or any sign of Officer Donnelly. I tried to squint into the woods, but it was too dark to see much beyond a few feet. I bit my lip.

  Then I took another deep breath and entered
the woods.

  It was quiet inside—quiet except for the hoot of an owl and the soft rush of the wind through the trees. I walked in about ten yards, then paused and listened. Wind, trees—all normal sounds. Maybe I should check the latrine area? Maybe Officer Donnelly was just quietly answering the call of Mother Nature?

  I turned back toward the tent and had gone only a couple feet when I tripped over something. I pitched forward but caught myself before I completely lost my balance. I looked down at the ground and gasped, my heart jumping into my throat.

  I turned on my flashlight.

  I had tripped over the body of Officer Donnelly. He was lying facedown on the ground. He was wearing his holster, but it was empty. I put my hand on his back and could feel that he was still breathing, but very slowly—like he’d been drugged or was in a deep sleep.

  Then suddenly, I felt a blow to the back of my head, and all I could feel was a throbbing, burning pain.

  I pitched forward, falling onto Officer Donnelly now. He didn’t stir, and I struggled to hold on to consciousness. Darkness invaded the edges of my vision, threatening to take me under. I used every ounce of energy I had to twist around and face my attacker.

  A large, black-clad figure in a ski mask was looking down at me.

  “You’re a little old for my collection,” he said in a husky smoker’s voice. “But you’ll do.”

  I saw him raise Officer Donnelly’s gun over his head. I watched it come down, feeling helpless, unable to move. And then it made contact with my skull. My head exploded in pain again, and everything turned inky black and silent.

  Taken

  As it turns out, getting swiped at by an angry bear is more of a nuisance than anything else. I wasn’t in a lot of pain from my wounds, which were mostly scratches along my shoulder, a few of them deep. But since I was bleeding, and since the bear likely had not had all his shots up to date, I spent a good long time in the emergency room. In fact, the sun had long since risen by the time Rich met me in the lobby, all bandaged and cleaned up. I squinted at the light streaming in through the windows and walked over to the detective with a sigh.