Page 53 of Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six

“Big day,” said West as Henry approached. “Good job, kid. You could have easily taken other, darker roads.”

“I had help.” He glanced back at Piper’s parents and Miss Gail.

“Sure,” he said. “But it was all you. Don’t forget that.”

Henry nodded. It was true that there was something inside him, a kind of iron will to just keep going, to do right, not to collapse into fear or sadness. Maybe he got it from Alice, her stoicism, how she always seemed to move forward, never back.

The wind picked up, blowing at the older man’s jacket, flipping it open to reveal his big belly pressing against his button-down shirt, straining against the constraint of his belt. Overhead the clouds started moving fast. A hawk circled, looking for its kill.

“Did you come to watch graduation?” he asked, hoping that was it.

“Not just.”

West hesitated a moment, then pulled an envelope from his lapel pocket. He looked down at the long white slip for a moment, holding it tight with both hands against the wind.

“I have a lead on your mother. Not on who killed her. But on her identity.”

Joyful voices carried on the wind. Henry looked back at Piper and her parents, Miss Gail, the gathering of his and Piper’s friends. Summer lay before them, a sun-kissed Florida promise. He had a good job at the local yacht club, thanks to Piper’s mom. He and Piper would help with the kids’ summer camp, work as lifeguards. There would be sailing on the Hobie Cat and lazy days at the beach, parties. Then in the fall, Henry would go to MIT. Piper, who’d managed to turn herself into a star student as well as a star athlete in high school, was going to NYU. It would be hard to be apart, but they’d make it work. They’d lost their virginity to each other, and he belonged to her. Her laughter, the turn of her soft neck, the pink of her lips, the smile in her eyes. There wouldn’t be anyone else. Ever.

He looked back at Detective West and his envelope thick with information he wasn’t sure he wanted.

“You have an aunt up north,” said West. “Your mother’s sister, someone who’s been looking for her all these years. The technology just caught up.”

Henry felt frozen. West went on:

“I put Alice’s photo and information up on a new national missing persons database called NamUs and I got a match with a decades-old missing persons case from up north. Your aunt identified her from the photographs. All the information is here.”

Your aunt.

Detective West held the envelope out to Henry.

“If you want it.”

He didn’t. He didn’t want to know who he really was, who Alice had really been. He only wanted to know who he could become. The past was a swamp, a morass. If he walked in, what darkness, what monsters awaited? Would he sink into its murky bottom? Would he find his way out again?

Piper’s laughter rang out. Her girlfriend Beck was shrieking about something. Henry felt drawn back to them.

And yet—it was primal, wasn’t it? Something coded in the cells. The desire to know who you came from, where. Why you were the way you were.

He took the envelope, put it in the lapel pocket of his own suit jacket. Maybe he should ask questions. But his throat felt sandpaper dry, constricted. Detective West looked off into the trees edging the field.

“I haven’t stopped looking for her killer, Henry. But I have to be honest. I don’t have a single lead, not one solid clue. Of course, DNA technology is changing all the time. It’s impacting cold cases, just like this—so who knows. I won’t stop looking. I promise.”

Why do you care so much?Henry wanted to ask. What kept this man holding on? Henry wanted to let go. If he could take a pill to forget Alice and his past completely, he would.

“Thank you,” he said.

West gave him a sad smile. “Good luck, son.”

The syllables felt weighted, always did, no matter who uttered them, as if the speaker knew too well all the pitfalls and hairpin turns on that seemingly bright road to the future.

“Thank you, Detective West,” he said again.

“What did he want?” asked Piper when Henry returned to the group. There was that little notch she got between her eyes when she was worried. Her dress clung to the fullness of her breasts, at her narrow waist, the color lighting up her skin. She wore her hair up, and pretty wisps floated around her face. He pushed one behind her ear.

“Nothing. Just to wish me well.”

“He gave you something.”

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