Chapter 21
Stuart’s fingers fly over the keys. “Tell me again.” He drags a chart onto the screen splitting it into two columns labeled Grover and Amelia.
“Everything that doesn’t add up. Stuff Grover said, or Amelia—”
“Well,” I scoot closer on the bed. “Grover called her Amy, twice. She called me Mama. That was definitely weird.”
Stuart types it in without looking at me. “And what about that interaction between Amelia’s Dad and Grover? Who were they talking about?”
“I have no idea. It made no sense at all.”
His fingers slow. He presses them against his lips, staring at the monitor like it might start talking.
“Stuart?”
“Hm?”
I hesitate. “There’s something more to this than a random kidnapping, isn’t there?”
That gets his attention. His eyes lock onto mine. “Looks like it. There’s at least one connection to Amelia. Maybe more.”
The cursor blinks like it’s waiting for us to figure it out.
By the time my parents get back to the room, the chart is still open, but we haven’t really gotten anywhere. There’s nothing there—just the feeling that if we look hard enough, something will pop up in front of us and give us all the answers. Right now, we don’t even know Grover’s last name, and even if we did, adoption records are sealed.
“Okay, Stuart,” says Dad. “Time to hit the road. The doc’s coming in to give Darcie one last once-over before she’s released.”
Stuart snaps the laptop closed like he’s trapping the thoughts inside, and leans in to whisper in my ear. “I’m gonna see what I can find out from the nurses about Grover. If that doesn’t work, I might have to try something more creative.”
My head turns toward him. “Creative how?”
He kisses my cheek and slides off the bed. “Call me later.”
“Okay.”
He backs toward the door nearly colliding with the doctor coming in. “Oops. Sorry, sir.”
The doctor steps aside without reacting, already looking at the chart in his hands.
“Alright, Reynolds family,” Stuart says. “I’ll see you later.” And then he’s gone.
I stare after him, my face still warm where he kissed me. I should be excited. I am excited. Stuart likes me. Like, he actually likes me. But my brain keeps dragging me back to Amelia. I thought what happened in the cave made us friends. Apparently, I was the only one. And now, Grover’s going to prison, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
An hour later, the crunch of tires on stone pulls me out of my nap in the car. We’re home. Finally.
My eyes are still heavy, and I press my forehead against the frost-covered window. In the dark, trees slide past, tall and familiar, their branches swaying like they’re waving us in. Suddenly, bright lights flash and I jerk upright. At the end of our driveway, there’s a white van parked between the ponderosa pines and the garage. A giant camera pokes out of the passenger window.
“Mom?”
She groans.
Dad’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Don’t get out yet. Let me take care of this.”
A woman jumps out of the van before we’re even stopped. “Darcie!” she calls. “Is it true you weren’t the only children being held in the caves?”
The camera light snaps on. This can’t be happening.
“Do you feel pressured to defend him because he helped you? What would you say to parents who fear their child could be next?” Questions fly at me so fast I can’t even think. My head shifts back and forth, searching for a way out.
Dad throws the car into park and is out before the engine fully dies. He meets the reporter halfway, holding up a hand like he’s stopping hikers on the trail. “Alright. That’s enough, folks. Not today. Give us some space.”
“Just one question,” the woman says. “People are worried. The community wants answers.”
He blows out a breath. “Yeah, I hear you. Appreciate what you do, but this isn’t the time or place. The community can wait.”
The camera swings toward me, and I duck lower in my seat.
“What about Amelia Davis? We heard she was injured. What can you tell us about that?”
Dad opens my door, blocking the camera with his body. “Inside, kiddo. Come on.”
Mom pulls Andrew, who’s sound asleep, from his car seat, and we all run for the porch.
Behind us, the reporter keeps talking. “Darcie, did the Shadow Man kidnap you, or just your brother?”
Dad calls without looking back. “That’s enough for tonight. Go on home now.”
But for some reason, that last question sticks with me. And I really don’t know the answer.
Once we’re inside, Dad locks the front door. Then locks it again. “They’re heading out.”
“Do you think they’ll come back?” Mom says, joining him at the window, still holding Andrew.
They watch them trail down the driveway. “Probably. But hopefully, not tonight.”
I slip in between them, the four of us huddled together.
“Alright,” Dad says. “Shoes off, lights low. We’ll sit by the fire and let everything quiet down for a while.”
Mom fills the living room floor with sleeping bags and pillows while Dad builds a fire. I stand by the window, looking out at the stars, remembering how full the sky was outside the cave. Normally, I love it when we snuggle up on the floor with our sleeping bags, but after the cave, everything is different.
“I…um.” My hands are clammy, and sweat runs down my back.
“Honey?” Mom moves toward me. And then she stops. “Is it the cave? Were there blankets on the floor?”
I nod, easing myself down onto the sofa. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d be okay, I love this, but…”
“Oh, sweetheart.” She wraps her arms around me and holds my head to her chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Dad hands me a hot chocolate and snuggles up to Andrew, who, believe it or not, has stayed asleep this entire time.
I blow on the hot liquid and take a tentative sip. “No. I want to talk. Those reporters…that was intense. That won’t be the last time, will it?”
“I’m afraid not.” Mom sits close, our legs touching on the footstool. The fire crackles and pops in perfect rhythm with Andrew’s slurp, slurp, slurp.
“I’m fine.” I say. “It’s nothing like the cave in here.”
We sit in silence, staring at the flames and sipping our hot drinks.
“We found the note—from Amelia.” Mom finally says, squeezing my knee. “You left it on your bed.”
The invitation to join the Peaks. It’s only been a week, but feels like forever ago. I let the warm chocolate slide down my throat. “Yeah. Pretty stupid, huh?” A tear slides down my cheek and plops into my cocoa. “I thought I’d be gone for like thirty minutes.”
Dad shifts Andrew to the floor and eases to my other side. “That’s how we tracked you down. Smart thinking, leaving it where you did.”
“It wasn’t smart. It was a mistake. I was rushing, and I…” The tears come fast now. I’m sobbing, and I can’t stop. My parents hold me tight, patting me and wiping my tears. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you’re not mad.”
“Well…” Mom threads her finger through mine. “Mad is not the right word. We’re grateful you both made it out alive. And our love—nothing can change that. But we wouldn’t be good parents if there weren’t consequences to breaking our trust, lying to Stacy, and putting Andrew in danger.”
A tear drips onto our fingers, and Mom brushes it away. “Yeah. I know. And I deserve it,” I whisper.
Dad’s warm hand rests on my knee. “That note gave us a trail to follow, at least. Otherwise we’d have been bushwhacking through those hills with nothing but guesses. I got Richard on the radio the minute we found it.” He reaches for his coffee. “And when your text hit my phone the next day…”
“You got it? It went through?” I sit up so fast I slosh hot chocolate down the front of my pajamas.
“Sure did,” Dad chuckles. “Best message I ever got. I knew you were alive. Didn’t know where, though. There are enough caves to keep a ranger busy for a lifetime. We were starting to narrow the search when we saw that flare.” He gives my knee a squeeze. “Well done, Ranger Ozzie. Now, I’m not gonna pretend every decision was a good one. Some of them were flat-out boneheaded. But you didn’t panic. You looked after your brother. You didn’t leave your friend behind. Anyone can make mistakes. Character shows up when things go sideways.
“She’s not really my friend.” My words are barely above a whisper. “She’s only my friend when there’s no one else around.”
The doorbell rings and Dad stomps toward the door. “That better not be more reporters…” He yanks it open, then softens when he sees who it is. “Richard.” He nods, stepping aside. “Come in.”
“Good evening, Marcum. Sorry to bother you, but do you think I could speak with Darcie?—I have some questions and Amelia’s—well, she’s not easy to talk to.”
I hold Mom’s gaze. “What does he want to talk to me for?” I whisper.
Dad takes Richard’s coat, and they drift into the living room.
“Hello Esther. Darcie. Looks cozy,” he says, face sagging as he glances down at the blankets and pillows covering the floor. “Love family time like this.”
Amelia flits into my mind, dressed in her pink satin nightgown and fluffy slippers, hair and nails perfectly groomed. She doesn’t fit inside this scene—and her grandmother? She’s not even in the house.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I ask. “Is Amelia okay?”
He sighs long and heavy. His head hangs as he leans in, arms resting on his knees. “She’s…fine. Leg is healing well. I appreciate the great care—“
“It wasn’t me,” I say, way too fast. “Grover was the one who took care of her.“
Richard raises his hand. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Can you walk me through what happened? From the beginning.”
Dad interrupts. “Richard, those kids went through the wringer out there. Darcie might not be ready to—”
“It’s okay, Dad. I can do it. There are things I need to sort out in my mind, too.”
My parents and Richard settle in to listen to the story of Amelia’s prank and the kidnapping of Andrew, our trek through the forest, and the rescue. “Grover said he thought Andrew was in trouble—saw lights in the cabin and heard us fighting—so he grabbed Andrew and ran. Then, I guess Andrew must have told him he got that wrong. That I was his sister, so they circled back, and that’s when he found us.”
“I see.” He runs a hand across his mouth. “Can you tell me anything about why he took you up the mountain rather than returning you home?”
“I don’t know why. We were both hurt. There was a blizzard. I don’t know how far up the mountain we already were. Maybe it was closer?”
Dr. Davis narrows his eyes. He’s staring at me, and I squirm under his gaze. “I think…” he straightens his back, “…that Grover’s eye was on Amelia—not Andrew.”
It’s like his words snap something into focus—like he’s accidentally just confirmed what Stuart and I were already starting to suspect. There’s a connection here. We just don’t know what it is yet.
I turn toward Dr. Davis before I lose my nerve. I need to be careful now. Not obvious.
“I’m sorry Dr. Davis, but that just doesn’t make sense, “ I say. “Grover couldn’t even remember Amelia’s name. He kept calling her Amy.”
His back stiffens. “He called her Amy? How interesting.” He taps a finger against his lip like he’s not sure if he should fill us in. Finally, he blows out a breath. “Because Amy is Amelia’s mother.”