At about nine-thirty that night, Gerdy found me in the kitchen at Krendal’s, I was rinsing out one of the coffee makers in the large sink.
She handed me an envelope. “Somebody left this on the counter for you.”
John Edward Thatchwas scrawled across the front of the white envelope. Inside was five hundred dollars in twenties.
For each month that followed, the envelopes seemed to find me. Three more at the diner, a few more in my locker at school, one even at the public library—it appeared in my cubicle after I got up to return a book to the stacks. A new envelope on the 8th of every month, clockwork.
Dunk continued to watch Jo for me, but he eventually stopped inviting his friends.
I’d spend the better part of the next year looking for the house and not finding it. For five hundred dollars, Dunk even found a guy willing to run the name Latrese Oliver through several national databases, including the Internal Revenue Service. He found three women with that name living in the United States, none in Pennsylvania. When he showed me pictures, none were familiar.
When spring of the following year came, I began hanging the posters. Only a few at first, around my neighborhood, but soon I found myself in unfamiliar places, hanging them on the sides of buildings and tacking them to telephone poles. A simple sketch of Stella Nettleton, followed by the words:
Have you seen me?
Dunk was right. I should have let her go.
I couldn’t, though.
I couldn’t.
April 23, 1993
Seventeen Years Old
Log 04/23/1993—
Dr. Helen Durgin in Observation. Corporate Executive No. 6491 in Observation. Subject “S” scheduled and in attendance for visitation. Subject “D” within expected parameters.
Audio/video recording.
“For the record, this is Dr. Helen Durgin. I’m in the observation booth. Subject “S” is at the outer door. Subject “D” is in his room, sitting on his bed. We have confirmed his mask is on and properly secured.”
“If he puts the mask on himself, how do you know it’s ‘properly secured?’ Maybe he’s faking it somehow.”
Durgin read his lips and frowned. “Who are you again?”
“That doesn’t matter. Answer my question.”
“You people from corporate think you run the show.”
“Answer my question,” the man repeated.
“If you had gotten here on time rather than five minutes late, you would have seen the safety protocols as well as our procedure.”
“Answer, Doctor. I’m not going to ask you again.”
Dr. Durgin sighed. “The bands over the top of his head and the two on the sides all come together at a lock on the back. Once all three are fastened, an LED changes from red to green. They can only be released with this remote.” The small key fob dangled from her finger. “Once the girl is inside and the door is secured, I’ll release the lock so he can remove the mask.”
“And he’s going to speak to her? Without hurting her? They’ve done this before?”
“He won’t harm her. Never has. They’ve been meeting since they were children.”
“Does she understand the risk?”
“Not only does she understand, I think she thrives on it. Her handler says she goes on about each visit for days after leaving. Feeds off the rush of it.”
“Who’s her handler?”
