Page 50 of The Souls of Lost Lake
“Hey.” He frowned.
“Sorry.” And she was. She was just—Meghan had gotten to her. This entireweekhad gotten to her. And every insecurity she’d ever had as a child feeling aimless and unaccounted for was coming to the fore in light of Jasmine’s disappearance. “I’m just upset.”
Damion seemed to sense the tension. He cleared his throat. “Hey, Troy, I’m gonna start loading the van.”
“Yeah.” Troy gave him a nod. “Thanks.”
“The van?” Wren pushed her hair back. She smelled like insect repellant.
“Yeah. I’ve got a group headed to Black River Harbor, remember?”
Yes. She did. She’d just forgotten. In the chaos of a missingchild, Deer Lake Bible Camp still needed to continue. Troy was, after all, head of wilderness trips. He had a group of eight high schoolers and five adults coming in for a camping excursion to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The plan was to go kayaking and explore the waterfalls and caves along Lake Superior. He’d be gone for a week.
Anxiety wrestled with a strange element of relief within her. What if she needed Troy while he was away? There’d be no contact—no cell service. Having him far away would eliminate the feeling she wasn’t as invested in their relationship as he was. It would—
“Wren, listen.” Troy glanced around them. There were so many people, kids throwing napkins at each other, counselors telling them to stop it, and camp staff zooming here and there on their own personal missions. In the din of it all, they were also very much alone.
Wren waited. There was a strange something in Troy’s voice. She noticed he drew a deep breath and then looked around again. Leaning forward, he reached for her hands. She didn’t withdraw this time but instead noted how his touch didn’t make her feel any better. It was that same lost sensation she’d always had, and while she’d assumed a relationship would fill the empty places that nagged at her with no reason or explanation, Troy simply hadn’t. At least not yet.
His hands squeezed hers and he looked intently into her eyes. “Please try not to take this on yourself. Jasmine’s disappearance, Meghan, they’re not your responsibility.”
Wren drew back a bit, yet Troy held on to her hands. He was being sincere. He even winced, as if the words hadn’t come out the way he wanted them to.
He tried again. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t care, and shouldn’t help, I’m just cautioning you not to internalize it. Like that shoe. Trying to find significance, well, it will weigh you down.”
“Itshouldweigh me down.” Wren frowned. “It should weigh usall down.” Not to mention that the shoe had been deliberately set on that step. It hadn’t just materialized out of nothing for no reason!
In fact, she sort of wondered why they hadn’t cleared the camp and started an all-out rescue mission in addition to allowing SAR to run their operation from their property. She knew it wasn’t practical, but a little girl was missing! “A little girl is missing, Troy.” She repeated her thoughts.
“I know. And I’m praying—we’reallpraying—she’s found. But ministry here at camp doesn’t stop, and you making this burden your own will only—”
Wren drew her hands away. “Will only what?”
A pained expression flashed in Troy’s eyes. He ran his fingers through his black hair. If she could just curl up in his arms, feel safe... Why did she need to feel safe? At the thought, Wren stilled. She wasn’t the missing Jasmine. She wasn’t lost. She was right where she should be and...
“I just don’t want to see this eat you up,” Troy finished, his words low and grave.
Wren’s eyes widened. “You know something, don’t you?” she breathed.
Troy bit his lip and looked away, unable to meet her frank question with a direct answer.
“Troy.” Wren reached for him, taking his hand, this time of her own volition. “Tell me.”
He looked back at her. “I overheard the police speaking with some of the head of SAR. They’re more seriously considering foul play.”
“Kidnapping.” Wren wasn’t surprised. Not after what she’d witnessed last night, not after spending the afternoon with Meghan. Maybe the ghost of Ava Coons hadn’t returned to snatch the child, but someone had. “Finally. They’re listening to Meghan!”
“Or...” Troy let the word hang there.
Wren’s head dipped forward in shock. “They think she’s been—”
“It’s possible.”
She noted neither of them could say the words.Killed.Murdered. They were too harsh, too final. “Why would they start questioning that?” Wren looked around and leaned closer to Troy, not wanting to cause an undue panic at being overheard.
Troy dodged her question. “There was blood on her sweatshirt.”
“So she cut herself or something. It wasn’tcoveredin blood,” Wren argued.
