Page 24 of Middle of the Night

“I think he’s dead,” I said with a sorrowful sniff.

“Who told you that?”

“No one. I just know that he is.”

Ashley slammed on the brakes, bringing the Camry to a rocking stop in the middle of the road. “Look at me,” she said.

I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not with tears streaming down my face and snot dripping from my nose. I wanted Ashley to think I was older, tougher, wise beyond my years. Instead, I looked like the weak crybaby I truly knew myself to be.

“Ethan,” she said, softer this time. “Look at me.”

I did, resisting the urge to flinch when Ashley returned my gaze. The pity in her eyes made me feel so utterly pathetic. But then she reached over and pulled me to her.

“Don’t think that,” she said. “You hear me? Don’t ever give up hope, Ethan. If you keep thinking Billy is alive and safe, then that’s what he is. Even if it’s just in your mind. Even if you never find out what happened to him.”

Now here we are, repeating that moment, only with our roles reversed and both of us faced with the stark reality that any hope we still had is now gone. Ashley pulls out of my grip, breaking the spell of memory. She steps away from me, swiping at the mascara-stained tears running down her face. “Fuck, I’m a mess right now.”

“Everyone is,” I say.

“Not you. You’re handling this so well.”

If only she knew about The Dream. And the insomnia. And the guilt and the grief and the long line of therapists stretching back to my early teens who, despite their valiant efforts, couldn’t help me one damn bit.

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“I guess we should go back in there,” Ashley says, looping an arm through mine. “Getting bad news is always easier with a buddy.”

We return to the living room, squeezing onto the sofa next to Russ again as he says, “What kind of evidence did they find?”

Ragesh clears his throat. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Howwas he found?” I say as I shift on the sofa. Something about this doesn’t feel right. Billy had been missing for thirty years, with no clue as to where he was or what had happened to him. Then he was suddenly found two miles from here—not long before I thought I’d sensed his presence outside.

“By two scientists with the state Department of Environmental Protection,” Ragesh says. “They were taking water and soil samples. Routine stuff they do all the time. In one of the samples, they found a bone fragment. That prompted them to dredge the lake. That’s when they found Billy.”

“But didn’t they search that area decades ago?”

Ragesh shakes his head. “It’s my understanding that they didn’t.”

“Because of the institute?” Ashley says, referring to the Hawthorne Institute, which sits on the same land as the falls and the lake. A hundred acres total. All of it once the property of Ezra Hawthorne, the last remaining member of a family whose old money stretched back to the days of theMayflower.

While a stone’s throw from Princeton University, the Hawthorne Institute was separate from those hallowed halls of higher learning. It was quiet, unassuming, and private. Exceedingly so. For decades, it flew under the radar because no one quite knew what it was, what they did there, or why they needed so much land.

Even though I’ve only been there once, I vividly remember how strange the place seemed. A stone mansion surrounded by several barns and other outbuildings. Surrounding that was the lake and the falls, formal gardens, and thick clusters of trees, all of it by design. An idealized version of nature that couldn’t happen without planning. Like a Central Park that hadn’t seen a tourist for decades.

“More like because Ezra Hawthorne was so rich they looked the other way,” Russ says.

Ragesh presses his lips together until they form a flat line. “I don’tknow why it wasn’t searched back then. But, clearly, it’s being searched now.”

“Aren’t the institute grounds private property?” I say.

“Yes and no,” Ragesh says as he runs a hand through his formidable beard. “It’s government land now. Green space. The institute closed in the late nineties when Mr. Hawthorne died. He donated the land to the county, with the stipulation that it remained untouched. No tearing down buildings or turning it into a public park or anything like that. So it’s technically public land that’s still very much off-limits. The only time people are allowed there is when they occasionally rent the mansion out for private parties and weddings.”

“What about back then?” Russ says. “What did they do there?”

He’d asked a similar question thirty years ago, as we stood at the edge of the falls. Only Billy had an answer, and the memory plants a seed of unease in my already-roiling stomach.

Ragesh shrugs. “I don’t know. Whatever it was, the institute kept it secret. Very few people had access.”

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