And you knew then that Sabrina wouldn’t be here in time to helpyou, to tell you what to do now. You stared at the beads like they might spell out a message. There was no meaning in it that you could make out, though as you stared you could feel it, her desire to help you, to be with you, the faintest tingle along your nerves. But still, the feeling didn’t change anything, and she would not be there to guide you like she promised she would. You had to act, completely on your own.
This realization freed you to take stock of your situation with more clarity, the kind of inventorying of your circumstances that you had been avoiding for so long. No cars were going to come. It was the middle of the night. You were getting dizzy, lightheaded. Every inch of your body ached, your very bones ringing with pain and cold.
You were both so cold.
Her weak, mewling cries had gone quiet.
She had never opened her eyes.
You set her down, gently, gently, in the grass.
In the darkness, looking at that bracelet, aware for that moment of all that had been destroyed in your life, you felt something in you like a match struck and held up against the night. Small and subtle, but undeniable.
You picked up a single bead, held it tight in your fist, to remind you that you were real, you were still here.
Your body hurt in so many ways, and yet what you felt when you turned your back to her made you double over, made you see white stars behind your eyes. You clutched the bead harder in your palm, feeling it press against the bone.
She was already gone, you told yourself. There was nothing anyone could do. It was the only thing that let you lift your foot off the ground and take that first step in the opposite direction. She was already gone and one of you had to survive. Your gait was heavy but lit with grim purpose as you walked back to the house. Faster, and faster the closer you got, even as each step made you want to cry out. Even as you felt every cell in your body straining back toward that place in the grass.
It was like everyone kept telling you. One of you had to get out. Had to live.
Ben wraps hisarms around you. Hugs you hard, as though he is trying to save you from some immediate physical danger.
“Maybe I could go by Anna,” you whisper. Because your life has broken open yet again. Because you will need to answer for who you had been and what you have done. Because here you are, starting over once more.
CALLIE
Callie is released from the hospital with a concussion diagnosis and a few stitches. Adrian picks her up. Brings her soup in bed. Cancels his classes to sit with her while she sleeps. She dreams of Jenna calling her name. Calling and calling and calling, but Callie never finds her. Just hears the echo of her voice.
Jane visits andCallie tells her everything else she knows while they sit together on the front porch. Tells her that she is a half sibling to Baby Doe.
Jane stares at her for a long time. “Maybe that’s why I liked Damien. He reminded me of you.”
Callie raises her eyebrows.
“Joking. You’re nothing like any of them.” Her smile drops. “Thank god.”
Frank was arrested the day before, charged for accessory to murder for his role in the attempt on Callie. Nothing, though, on Luke. For all Callie knows he’s still ranging through the woods with girls like Layla. Girls like the one Jenna had been. Callie has taken a leave of absence from the station. Jimmy Nichols has been named interim chief of police.Job’s all yours, Callie thought, when she heard the news.
Jane turns and looks toward the river, which sparkles in the winter light. “So where did your last name come from? It’s not Jenna’s last name. She said she gave you your dad’s name, right? But obviously that’s not true.”
“I don’t know. She was so young. It could have been anything. Someone in a band she liked. Plucked out of a hat.”
“I’m going to google it,” Jane proclaims. “Google knows everything.”
“Hauser Pine Barrens,” Jane says as she types, and Callie rolls her eyes. Jane scrolls and scrolls, her brow furrowed. She looks at Callie, her cheeks sucked in.
“What? Are there other criminals I’m related to? Please don’t tell me.”
Jane hands Callie her phone without a word. Her browser is open to a blog post from a hiker about a route through a place called Hauser Hollow.
Rumor has it Hauser Hollow was once home to Quakers who fled the strict rules of their communities and came out to the Pines to live their own way. There used to be settlements here, but they’re gone now. What stands in its place is an old hunting cabin, restored and kept up. There’s a sign claiming it is private property but I’ve never seen anyone here, though a buddy of mine said he has seen buck skins stretched for scraping outside.
She sits up. “It’s real?” Callie asks.
“What do you mean?”
“My mom used to talk about this hunting cabin she’d spend time in when she was a kid. Her family used to keep a watch out for the Jersey Devil a hundred years ago. I always figured it was BS.”
