I race out of the room to check the bathroom. “Your brother. Where is he?” I call to her.
“I don’t know. He was sleeping.”
The bathroom is dark. I flip the light switch. No Reid. My heart slams against my ribs. Where is our son?
The front door bangs open, and Clint calls out, his words tumbling over each other. “It was Reid. He was behind the outhouse.”
“I was looking for the raccoons. I thought maybe in the dark—”
I run to him, drop to my knees, and wrap my arms around his thin frame. “You scared me.” My face is wet as I kiss his cheek.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
I straighten, taking gulps of air to try to calm my reaction. He’s fine. Everyone is fine.
“Let’s get our raccoon hunter back to bed.” Clint gently shoves Reid toward where Erika stands in the doorway of their room.
“I wasn’t hunting them,” Reid whines.
“Come on, goober. Back to sleep.” Erika slips back under her own sheets.
I slump against Clint as we walk to our room. “Not sure I can remember being that frightened,” I mumble. With someone coming after Erika online, I thought for sure someone had grabbed our boy. I don’t care about the agreements or the client data, I just want this all to end.
Clint turns off the light and hugs me to him. I lay my head on his shoulder thinking there is no way I am going to fall asleep.
Three sharp raps at the door fracture the quiet of the cabin.
My eyes shoot open. What was that?
Clint bolts upright. “I think someone’s here.”
Clint slips from the bed, his movements fluid and purposeful. He pauses and glances at his phone. “It’s probably the police.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“It’s only eleven.” Clint is already striding toward the front door.
Something instinctive stops me as I walk around the bed. I pull the door mostly shut and grab the sat phone from the closet. I don’t have time to figure out the hot spot, so I pray Clint has contacts saved. I scroll until I find the one I need. I click on it.
Voices boom from the front of the cabin.
I was right, not the police.
Two voices that sound eerily similar.
I quickly write out a text that’s far more confident and assured than I feel.
This is Meredith. I was given data on a thumb drive. It is real and troubling. Someone other than our custodian is lending securities from the new ETFs. The data might be an assurance that if they are caught, I will be blamed. I urge you to keep this confidential, but if you don’t hear from me by noon on Saturday, call Officer Komoroski in Scarsdale and Newal at the SEC. Be careful.
I try to read over my hasty text. I sound paranoid but I don’t know how to fix the tone. The shouts from the other room continue. Clint keeps insisting Lucas be quiet. Lucas insists I show myself so we can all talk. The voices grow strangely quiet, and then Lucas shouts at Clint to get over himself and how the past needs to stay in the past.
My head pounds. How are the kids not awake?
I focus back on the phone. There is so much more I should sayin the text. The part about keeping confidential is eerily similar to the words used by Betsey in her note, and look how well I took that direction. If I had, we might not be here. What if something has happened to her? I shake my head. I have to trust that the SEC has put their full weight behind finding her.
I press Send.
As I go to power down the phone, Erika’s words about Clint wiggle into my consciousness.Dad’s a really good judge of character.
