Theo didn’t move, didn’t flinch.

Further proof in my confused mind that he had already steeled himself for a beating from my tiny hands.

That, deep down, he knew he deserved it.

29

This isn’t happening.

I’m not going crazy.

The words crash into my brain the moment I regain consciousness, making me sit up with a start. My head slams into something hard above me. Pain pulses along my hairline, joining another, previously unnoticed pain at the back of my head.

“Whoa,” someone says. “Easy.”

A moment of pure confusion passes before I realize where I am. Camp Nightingale. Dogwood. Ensconced in a bunk bed, the top of which I just introduced to my forehead. The person who spoke is Theo. He sits on my hickory trunk with Sasha’s copy of National Geographic, passing the time until I wake up.

I rub my head, my palm alternating between the two points of pain. The one in the front is already fading. The one in the back is the opposite. It grows in intensity.

“You took quite a tumble in the cellar,” Theo says. “I broke some of your fall, but you still banged your head pretty bad.”

I slide out of bed and stand, gripping Miranda’s bunk in case I need support. My legs are rubbery but strong enough to keep me upright. Small traces of the dark fuzziness that engulfed me in the Lodge remain. I blink until they’re gone.

“You need to rest,” Theo says.

That’s impossible at the moment. Not with him here. Not when my limbs tingle with anxiety, aching and restless. I look around the cabin and see everything is the same as it was this morning. Sasha’s bed is still meticulously made. Krystal’s teddy bear remains a lump beneath the blankets.

“They’re still missing, aren’t they?”

Theo confirms it with a solemn nod. My legs start to quiver, begging me to lie down again. I tighten my grip on the edge of Miranda’s bunk and remain standing.

“Detective Flynn broke the news to their families. He asked if any of them have been contacted by one of the girls. No one has. Miranda’s grandmother didn’t even know she had a cell phone, so there’s still no word on what carrier she uses.”

“Did Flynn talk to the kitchen staff?”

“He did. All of them live in the next town over. They’re all cafeteria staff at the middle school there. Just happy to have a job for the summer. They carpool together every morning before breakfast and every evening after dinner. No one stayed behind last night, and no one came in early this morning. Not even Marvin.”

All that information I had given Flynn—all my attempts to help—ended up being for nothing. Disappointment swells in my chest, tight against my rib cage.

Theo sets the magazine aside and says, “Do you want to talk about what happened back at the Lodge?”

“Not really.”

“You said you saw Vivian.”

My mouth goes dry, making it hard to speak. My tongue feels too sticky and heavy to form words. A bottle of water sits next to Theo. He gives it to me, and I swallow all but a few drops.

“I did,” I say after clearing my throat. “On the live feed of the cabin.”

“I looked, Emma. No one was there.”

“Oh, I know. It was . . .”

I’m unable to adequately describe it. A hallucination? My imagination?

“Stress,” Theo says. “You’re under a tremendous amount.”

“But I’ve seen her before. When I was much younger. It’s why I was sent away. I thought she was gone. But she’s not. I keep seeing her. Here. Now.”

Theo cocks his head, looking at me the same way I’m sure he looks at his patients when he has to give them bad news.

“I had a conversation with my mother,” he says. “We both agree it was wrong to invite you back here, even if it was with the best intentions. That doesn’t mean we think any of this is your fault. It’s ours. We underestimated the effect being here would have on you.”

“Are you telling me to leave camp?”

“Yes,” Theo says. “I think it’s for the best.”

“But what about the girls?”

“There’s a search party looking for them right now. They’ve split into two groups. One is taking the woods to the right of camp and another is doing the same thing on the left.”

“I need to join it,” I say, making a move toward the door on unsteady legs. “I want to help.”

Theo blocks my path. “You’re in no condition to go trampling through the woods.”

“But I need to find them.”

“They’ll be found,” Theo says as he grips my arms, holding me in place. “I promise. The plan is to add more searchers tomorrow, if necessary. Within twenty-four hours, every square foot of this property will have been thoroughly searched.”

I don’t remind him that a similar search did little good fifteen years ago. Every square foot of land was covered then, too. All it yielded was a sweatshirt.

“I’m staying,” I insist. “I’m not leaving until they’re found.”

A rumble sounds in the distance—a deep thudding that echoes across the valley like thunder. A helicopter joining the search. The sound is familiar to me. I heard it a lot fifteen years ago. The cabin rattles as the chopper roars overhead, low in the sky, practically skimming the trees. Theo grimaces as it passes.