The kids were not asleep. They were doing exactly what I would’ve done at their age: watching scary movies. Both were camped out in the living room with their phones and tablets and a pile of junk food. I joined them.
They thought I had been out patrolling the neighborhood, helping to protect Hidden Oaks from Owen Oliver. We have our own private security, but last night a group of residents decided to help be on the lookout. I just wasn’t one of them.
The kids already knew Millicent wouldn’t be home until morning. We told them she would be with a group of girlfriends who didn’t want to be alone. Neither cared. I’m not sure Owen Oliver is real to them. He is the boogeyman on TV, the psycho in the movies. It doesn’t occur to them that any woman—a teacher, a neighbor, or even their mother—could be at risk. My feelings about this are conflicted. I want my kids to feel safe. I also want them to know how dangerous the world is.
Still lying in bed, I start to wonder about where Millicent took Naomi, about what will happen to her. What may already be happening. To stop myself, I get up and turn on the TV. The sports channel. While listening to the baseball scores from yesterday, I make coffee. The newspaper thumps against the front door, and I leave it there. Instead, I drink coffee and watch cartoons until the kids get up, then turn off the TV before they come downstairs. Rory is first to the kitchen. He grabs the remote and clicks on the news.
“So who got whacked?” He takes a bowl out of the cupboard and dumps cereal in it.
“Don’t say whacked.”
He rolls his eyes. “Okay, who got murdered?”
Jenna appears in the doorway. She looks back and forth between Rory and me. “Did it happen? Did Owen come back?”
Rory turns up the volume on the TV. The reporter they show is not Josh. It is a young blond woman who looks like Owen’s type.
“Police tell us they won’t know anything for a while. Given the concern about last night, they have received many calls about women who have not answered their phones or checked in with their families. We don’t know if any of these women are actually missing, and it will likely be some time before the police have sorted everything out …”
“The police are idiots,” Rory says. He turns to Jenna and pokes her arm. “Like you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
They stop talking about Owen. I do not hear his name again until we are in the car, on the way to Jenna’s soccer game. During a break in the music, the radio announcer says the police have received more than a thousand calls from people claiming they saw Owen Oliver on Friday night.
Still no word from Millicent, though I lie to the kids and tell them she is having brunch with her friends. Neither seems to care.
At the game, I start checking my phone more often.
A few of the parents talk about the news, speculating about Owen and the Friday the 13th note and wondering if it was all a hoax. One of the fathers said it had to be, but the women were not so sure. When he laughed, a woman asked what was so funny about claiming someone would be killed on Friday the 13th.
I check my phone. Still nothing.
Jenna’s team is up by one. I give her the thumbs-up. She smiles and rolls her eyes at the same time. It occurs to me that the thumbs-up sign is probably uncool.
Then I see her. She is behind Jenna, near the parking lot, and she is walking around the field. Her red hair is down, bouncing as she moves. She is wearing jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt with a lion, the school mascot, on the front. She’s always trying to look like all the other soccer moms, but she never succeeds. Millicent always stands out.
As she gets closer, she smiles. It is a big, wide smile that reaches to the depths of her eyes. Relief floods through my veins. Only then do I realize how nervous I have been. Silly. I know better than to doubt Millicent.
I reach out to her. She slides her arm around my waist and leans in to kiss me. Her lips are warm, and her breath smells like cinnamon and coffee.
“How’s Jenna doing?” Millicent says, turning toward the field. I cannot stop looking at her.
“Winning by one.”
“Perfect.”
She slips away from me and says hello to some of the other parents. They chat about the game, about the beautiful weather, and, eventually, about Owen.
When the game is over, I have to go to work. It is Millicent’s Saturday to take the kids out to lunch, and we have only a moment alone in the parking lot. The kids are in the car, buckled up and arguing. We stand together between our cars.
“Everything good?”
“Perfect,” she says. “No problems at all.”
We go our separate ways, and as I drive to the club, I feel more than happy. Buoyant, maybe. Like I’m floating.
* * *
• • •
At the club, I have a rare Saturday lesson with Kekona, our Hidden Oaks gossip. I think she scheduled it because she wants to talk about Owen, about what may have happened the night before, and our lesson confirms it. Owen is all she talks about it.
“Fifty-three women. The news says fifty-three women were reported missing between last night and this morning.” She shakes her head. Kekona’s long dark hair is rolled up into a bun at the base of her neck.
“Owen did not kidnap fifty-three women last night,” I say.
“No, he didn’t. He may not have kidnapped anyone. But fifty-three families believe he did.”
I nod, absorbing her words, wrapping my head around so much pain. I feel removed, as if it has nothing to do with me.
Twenty-six
We wait for everyone else to figure out what happened. When the news is on, Millicent winks at me. When someone mentions Owen, I give her a look only she understands. It is our thing, the thing that separates us from everyone else.
I first felt it after Holly. Again after Robin, and then after Lindsay. After each woman, Millicent and I had a moment in which we were the only ones in the world. It felt the same as it did when we climbed that big tree. It feels that way now, after Naomi.
Millicent and I are wide-awake while everyone else is asleep.
* * *
• • •
By Monday, the police are down to two women. All the others have been found or have returned home. I hear this on the radio during the drive to work, and it surprises me. I hadno idea it would take this long for everyone to realize who had gone missing. It almost makes me want to send another note to Josh, to let him know it was Naomi.
Almost. But the more time they spend trying to figure out who is missing means the less time they spend trying to find her. The police do not even know who to look for.
Halfway through the day, I get a call from the school principal. This is odd, because the school always calls Millicent first, but the principal says Millicent isn’t answering her phone. She also tells me there has been an incident at the school and that I need to come down there right away. I ask if it’s Rory.
“It’s your daughter,” she says. “We have an issue with Jenna.”
When I arrive at the school, Jenna is sitting in the corner of the principal’s office. Nell Granger has been at the school forever and has not changed a bit. She looks like a sweet old grandmother who would pinch your cheeks until they bruised.