She peels back the foil and bites into the burger. It’s thick and juicy, and she pushes back her sleeves to avoid dripping on the cuffs of Elijah’s parka.
Caleb stiffens.
Sarah follows his gaze to her left wrist. Bruises circle the pale skin like a bracelet, fresh and purple. With all the layers she has on for winter, she hadn’t known they’d been forming, like a message in invisible ink come to light.
“Do you want to tell me about them?” Caleb says.
Sarah pastes on her best smile. “Oh, that’s nothing. I must’ve banged it on something.”
“Bullshit.”
Sarah’s scalp prickles at the fury in his voice. “No, it’s okay. It wasn’t my—wasn’t a boyfriend.” She wants charming Caleb back, not angry Caleb. Itwasokay, anyway. It was the only time Ben ever hurt her. Physically. He’d come out of the shower sooner than he should have and caught her in the kitchen, jamming a water bottle in her full backpack.
“It’s not. I recognize that kind of bruise. I used to have a matching set myself from my dad. He’d drink too much and fly into these rages.”
At her surprised blink, he smiles faintly. “I know. I look like I can hold my own in a fight. I started lifting weights when I was a teen so I could hit back. The irony is, I earned Dad’s respect by becoming a ‘man.’ Whatever that means.”
Sarah remembers the skinny boy in the Christmas photo, and her heart goes out to him. “Did he stop when you?—?”
“Yeah. At least, I thought he was done. I thought it would be safe to go away to college, but Elijah?—”
She thinks of Elijah’s sad face, the mirror of his mother’s. His enthusiastic grin, so eager to please because people might turn on you otherwise. She knows what it’s like.
The pieces fall into place, and a heavy sadness blankets her stomach. “You came back for Elijah. I’m so sorry.”
“You really like apologizing for things that aren’t your fault, don’t you?”
He has no idea.
“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “We’re still here, and that asshole isn’t. I’m not going to lie; neither of us were sad when he disappeared. Even if it did make our reputation worse in this town.” Caleb jerks his head in the direction of the motel. “You must’ve heard Jerry call it the Suicide Motel. In the past ten years, two other men stopped at the motel and were never seen again, and now we’re the local urban legend. Joseph Singh got caught in a blizzard on his way to Sudbury, and Stuart McGee was heading to Toronto for a conference. They never found them. Hike about an hour east, and there’s a lake. Keep walking long enough through these woods, and you’ll end up in Algonquin Park. So many ways you could vanish in the backcountry.”
Sarah swallows, the burger suddenly a greasy lump in her throat. “Not the work of a serial killer?” And he’d said it was safe here.
Caleb chuckles. “You’ve been watching too much TV. Joseph Singh and Stuart McGee were like Dad. Angry men who had a lot of issues. Their families were all unsurprised. Relieved, even. Uncle Isaac figures they wanted to vanish for good. He never found any signs of struggle.”
If you wanted to disappear, this would be the place to do it. Sarah imagines the treetops closing over her head, swaddling her. Keeping her safe at last, with the men who’d also sought sanctuary.Do you hear them?
She shivers, despite her down-filled coat. “What did Elijah mean, when I called last night? He asked if I heard screaming.”
Caleb smiles ruefully. “That’s part of the legend. Elijah worked the night shift at the motel. The men who disappeared—they both called in the middle of the night, complaining they could hear screaming in the woods. It was just the wind and their mental state, but now everyone says this place drives people mad. You’ve heard the way the wind goes through the trees? It’s creepy if you’re not prepared for it.”
He gazes wistfully at the pines, and she wishes she could see what he sees. “It’s beautiful but lonely. I suppose I could sell everything and move, but Elijah adores the woods, and I have to take care of him. I’m the only one who really understands him. You have a brother, right? You said you were on your way to see him.”
“Yes. Actually, I was hoping to call him but my phone’s dead. Do you have a charger?” She reaches inside her coat for the phone.
Caleb inspects the socket. “Mm, sorry. Mine’s different, and Elijah doesn’t have a phone.”
“Could you ask the mechanic to get mine out of my car?”
Caleb grimaces and puts down the burger. “Shit. I was hoping to break it to you gently. Lars is sick, so the garage is closed, and his staff are in quarantine, too. You won’t be getting your car back for a while.”
Despair sinks its claws into Sarah’s stomach. She’s already stayed here long enough. “Could you get me a charger in town?”
“Most people drive up to North Bay for stuff like that. We’ve got groceries and hardware, and ice cream for summer tourists, but not much else. I’d ask around if I could borrow one, but—” His eyebrows steeple in an apology. Considering no one wants to even touch her car, no one is going to lend her a thing. “Is your brother going to be worried? I could ask Uncle Isaac to?—”
“No.” No, Graham wasn’t expecting her, and no, she doesn’t want the police to talk to him before she does. “Could I use your phone? I’m afraid it’s long distance, he just moved and still has a Toronto cell number. He could drive down and get me, and I could pick up my car later.”
Caleb shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should finish your quarantine first. The garage will be open shortly after.”
