The Possession Read online

  “You have a point,” Ken said. “Of course. Which is why you’re coming with us.”

  “I don’t want to,” she said. “If I had a car of my own, I’d be long gone. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  “Ken,” I said. “Let’s multitask. We’re not going to stick a camera in these girls’ faces right away. So why doesn’t Pierre stay here, scout out the woods, get a sense of what else is there to be found. That way we can come back later and launch into it with a head start.”

  “Nice,” Ken said. “I’ll go tell him.”

  He strode off toward Pierre’s room looking for all the world as if it had been his idea. When he was out of earshot I turned to Molly. “Moll. Just tell me what’s up, okay?”

  “You’re going to say I’m just being silly.”

  “I really won’t.”

  “Okay. Well—”

  “You’re just being silly.”

  “You’re a funny guy, Nolan—but shut up. Yesterday after we got back to the motel, we went to our rooms. I took a shower. I was frozen. When I finally got out, the bathroom was full of steam. I wrapped the towel around myself and used a washcloth to clear a spot in the mirror. And…”

  She stopped talking.

  “And what?”

  “There was somebody in the shower.”

  “What?”

  “I jumped and turned around. The shower was empty. I looked behind the curtain. Nobody. But I know what I saw in the mirror. Somebody was standing there behind me.”

  “The bathroom lights are very dim,” I said, carefully.

  “I know, Nolan. But that wasn’t it. It wasn’t a shadow, either. There was someone in my shower.”

  “Okay,” I said. Simply telling her she was wrong wasn’t going to work. I needed a more roundabout approach. “What did he look like? I assume it was a he?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” she said. “The head was tilted forward, dripping. I couldn’t see a face. I turned in half a second. Gone. But…it felt like a him.”

  It felt a little as though she was being evasive on that point, but I didn’t push her. “So what did you do?”

  “Checked behind the curtain again. Looked back in the mirror. Nothing. So I opened the door to the main room. Poked my head out. It was empty. And really, really cold. I double-checked—the door to the outside was locked.”

  “Huh,” I said.

  “Do you believe me?”

  “I believe that you think you—”

  “Oh, get lost, Nolan. And tell me. What really happened with your coffee pot?”

  “Christ, that again?”

  “What I mean is—why did it happen? It wasn’t science. And it must have happened about the same time that I saw what I saw in my shower.”

  I spread my hands, hoping to suggest an openness to the world and its odd quirks, with a hint that she should do the same. Molly’s face said it wasn’t working. Even a little bit.

  Thankfully Ken and Pierre were on their way toward us now. “Look, Moll,” I said, quietly. We can talk about—”

  “I saw what I saw, Nolan.”

  Chapter

  19

  When Kristy parked in the lot a news truck was already in position, though it seemed they were packing up. The first people she encountered inside the hospital were two policemen on their way out: the sheriff from Chico and a sleepy-eyed deputy she’d encountered with him last night.

  “Good morning, Officer Tindall.”

  Kristy saw Tindall registering the fact she’d remembered his name while he couldn’t pretend he was in the same position. Kristy had talked to enough cops over the years to know the ones who were on the take or racist were a minority outnumbered by men and women who turned up day after day and night after night to do a difficult job for which they received little thanks. She wasn’t looking for a fight. Just respect. “Kristy,” she said. “Reardon.”

  “Right. So, you’re back.”

  “Sharp. Didn’t realize you were a detective. I’d’ve been less snappy with you last night.”

  The sheriff smiled. “Touché. Obviously you’re back, Ms. Reardon. And look, I get that we probably seemed officious, maybe even rude. We’re grateful you got Alaina here so fast. We just needed to make sure everything was done right.”

  Ducks in a row, Kristy thought. “And was it?”

  “Seems so,” the sheriff said, missing the hidden question. “She’s in good shape, according to the doctor.”

  “Physically.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, she did keep saying she’d died.”

  Officer Tindall laughed. “Right, yeah. She dropped that soon after you left. She was joking.”

  “Strange joke. I see local news are on the case.”

  “Of course,” the sheriff said. “But Alaina doesn’t want to talk to them. They were getting pushy, but when her dad arrived they got the message. He believes they didn’t do enough when Alaina went missing. He made that real clear. He feels the same about us, and made that equally plain.”

  “And did you?”

  The sheriff looked at her. “Excuse me?”

  “A girl in the woods by town. For twelve days. It’s unfortunate she wasn’t found. Maybe even surprising.”

  “When you get back to LA,” the sheriff said, “spend a while with a map of this county. Birchlake backs onto hundreds of square miles of mountain forest. Some parts very steep. I can understand why Bryan Hixon got frustrated. But we looked. Hard. The Feds looked. People from town looked. As I explained yesterday.”

  “Is Alaina’s dad still here with her?”

  “Yes. But they won’t be for much longer.”

  “She’s being released already?”

  “No reason not to. They gave her an exhaustive physical and ran bloodwork and monitored her through the night. She’s in good shape. She’s a very lucky girl.”

  “But where’s she been?”

  “In the woods.”

  “Who with?”

  Officer Tindall hesitated. “Well, nobody.”

  “For twelve days? Evading police and civilian searches? And without losing a ton of weight? Twelve days?”

  “That’s what she says,” the sheriff said. “And we’ve got no reason to think otherwise.”

  Kristy was struggling to keep her voice level. “You know it can’t be true.”

  “We talked to her. Child services talked to her. The doctors examined her, along with a psychiatrist. No signs of physical or sexual abuse. No evidence of restraint. She says she was alone. She said it multiple times.”

  “So…was she hiding? If so, why? From who?”

  “No, she was lost. Once you get away from town, those woods are thick. A dozen experienced hikers a year wind up lost. Alaina had no map or experience.”

  “But she lives around there.”

  “You can drown in six inches of water and you can get lost a mile from home. She got messed up in the dark and turned around and got more lost. Woke in the morning and set off in the wrong direction and made it worse. But now she’s back. And she’s okay. This is what they call a happy ending, Ms. Reardon. Most people seem glad about that, not determined to go to the dark side.”

  “I’m not most people.”

  “I can tell.”

  “And you, as a police officer—you’ve no interest in making sure you know what happened?”

  “Our job is to investigate crimes,” the sheriff said. “That requires a crime, with a victim. Alaina Hixon says there wasn’t one, and she isn’t one. So we’re done.”

  “Even though she could be lying, which means there’s someone out there who might do this again, to some other girl? A girl who might not be so lucky? Who might not come back? Ever?”

  “The Feds will interview Alaina this afternoon,” he said. “They’ll ask her the same questions and let me know if anything warrants further investigation.”

  “Great. I assume you have no objection to me trying to talk to Alaina before she le
aves?”

  “Nope,” he said. “But judging by how she and her dad dealt with the other newshounds, I’d say it’s a longshot.”

  “My grandmother told me you should ask for what you want,” Kristy said. “And if they tell you no, always ask again a second time. To check they’re sure.”

  “I can believe that,” the sheriff said, with a touch of weariness. “And I’ll also bet a lot of folks have come to wish your grandma had kept that wisdom to herself.”

  Kristy asked at the nurses’ station on the second floor if it was okay to visit with Alaina. A nurse went to check. To Kristy’s surprise she came right back and said yes.

  The room was small but private. Alaina was perched on the edge of the bed, dressed in clean jeans and a gray hoodie. She turned when she heard Kristy enter. “Hey,” she said.

  The touch of frostnip she’d had the night before had gone, and her cheeks looked flushed from the warmth of the room. Kristy was glad to see her looking well, though it made it even harder to believe her account of what happened.

  “I thought your dad was here.”

  “He’s gone to bring the car around. The police said they’d go keep the news people busy for a few minutes.”

  “You’re slipping out the back? Cool. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  “My dad says journalists don’t give up easy,” Alaina said, with the trace of a smile. “I guess he’s right.”

  “Guilty as charged.” Kristy sat on the end of the bed. “So how come you let me say hi?”

  “You brought me in last night. That was nice of you.”

  “Anybody would have. I’m glad you’re back.”

  The girl’s eyes were pale and blue. “I can see that.”

  “And you’re feeling okay?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “You were saying some strange things.”

  “Like what?”

  “You told us you died. Seemed pretty insistent. But the cops said you stopped saying it.”

  “Well, yeah. People were being weird about it.”

  “Well, it’s kind of a weird thing to say, right?”

  The girl shrugged. “I guess.” She was looking down at her hands as if unsure about them in some way.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Alaina said. “Just, when I leave here, it’s all going to start. No going back.”

  “What’s going to start?”

  The girl shook her head, then seemed to get distracted by something in the corner of the room. Kristy glanced in that direction, but there was nothing there to see.

  “I know what you mean, I think,” she said, to prompt her. “A lot of people are going to want to see you, talk to you. Your friends especially. They’re going to be so happy you’re back, Alaina. Just take it slow. Don’t try to do it all at once.”

  Something in Alaina’s expression said Kristy had missed the point by a mile. “You should go now,” she said.

  Her tone was friendly, but firm. Kristy was about to ask why when the door opened and Bryan Hixon came in.

  “Let’s get out of here, baby,” he said, before spotting Kristy and stopping. “Oh.”

  Kristy stood. “It’s okay, I’m leaving.”

  He came and stood in front of her, however. “Thank you,” he said. He still looked exhausted, but his eyes were clear. “For bringing Alaina here last night. I owe you.”

  “Glad to do it.”

  “I’m taking her home now, though,” he said, maintaining eye contact. “She needs rest. To get back to normal life. Without being bothered. By anyone.”

  Hixon’s tone was a lot like his daughter’s. As if, perhaps, she’d heard it from him many times.

  Kristy glanced at Alaina, but the girl was looking back into the corner of the room, moving her head from side to side, as if watching a fly.

  “Goodbye,” Hixon said.

  By the time Kristy left the hospital the cops and the news truck had gone. The lot was almost empty, as if being sick was unpopular on Saturdays. The sky was dark and low.

  She got in her car. Breathed out. That was, she guessed, that. If everybody was going to be dumb about it, there wasn’t a lot she could do. The only hope was that when the Feds debriefed Alaina they were less incurious. But they, too, would be ready to move on, disinclined to push hard on a case that seemed to have solved itself.

  Let it go.

  She sat staring out across the asphalt until she realized the trees dotted around it were blurring. Wiped her cheeks. Wished she had a coffee. Started the engine. As she steered toward the exit she noticed a car parked away from all the others, in the far corner of the lot, under a tree.

  A figure she recognized stood at the front, leaning back on the hood, smoking.

  She drove away.

  Chapter

  20

  The Hardaker residence was a few blocks from the school—a well-maintained Victorian, originally the lair of someone who’d most likely paid other people to cut down trees rather than doing it himself. We’d made contact with the girls pretty easily. Molly had the idea of reaching out on social media and established that both had Instagram accounts in variants of their given names (maddyhard and naddyhard). Evidently they had notifications turned on, too, as Madeline came straight back, saying they’d be happy to meet. Mindful of Molly’s qualms, Ken suggested doing so at their own house, with at least one parent’s permission and presence. There was a longer delay in response to this, but eventually a message pinged back saying that was fine though the opportunity was time limited.

  The door was opened by a brisk, fit-looking guy who was, disconcertingly, exactly the same height as me. In every other regard Greg Hardaker was clearly the upgrade: clear of eye, smooth of skin, obviously prone to forms of exercise that went beyond my semi-regular half-assed runs.

  “My wife’s at Safeway,” he said. “And I have to be gone myself in half an hour, so…”

  “That’s all we need. And thank you.”

  I introduced the team and we followed him into the house. It was soon evident that, whatever this guy did, he also earned a lot more than me. Actual art on the walls, Restoration Hardware furniture, a side room filled with more high-end computers than it seemed reasonable for one person to need. “Alaina’s really okay?”

  “Far as we know,” I said. “Kristy—she’s our presenter—is at the hospital now. How did you hear Alaina was back?”

  “A couple we know were in the Stone Mountain Tap last night,” he said. “One’s a teacher at the school. Gina. She called us right away. Which was thoughtful. The girls…well, you can imagine how they’ve been feeling. And it’s been worse the last couple of days, for some reason.”

  “Maybe it was starting to sink in,” I said. “It must have been tough. For all of you.”

  “You can say that again.” He paused, in front of a door at the end of the hallway. “Where’s she been? Alaina?”

  “That’s not clear yet.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Look, I’ve agreed to you talking to my daughters because, well, basically because they really want to, and on the rare occasions when they’re on the same page they’re frankly unstoppable. Also because…I think it’d be good for them to tell their side.”

  “Their side?” Ken asked.

  “Alaina disappeared. They didn’t,” I said. “People can be judgmental. As if it must somehow be the fault of the people left behind.”

  “Exactly,” Hardaker said. “Exactly.” I got the sense my remark had been enough to allay any lingering doubts. “How come you don’t have a camera, by the way?”

  “This is just a recce,” Ken said. “When we do the thing properly we’ll need lights, release forms, the whole shebang. And it won’t be on spec, on a Saturday morning.”

  “Ah, okay. But look, I don’t want them hearing anything that’s going to upset them. Anything bad. About where Alaina’s been, or what might have happened to her. Okay?”

  “Don’t worry,” Molly said. “Far as we know, it
’s all good.”

  A few minutes later Ken and I were sitting on a couch in a large, pleasant room. They’d expanded the windows on the back, so the wall was almost entirely glass. Beyond lay a tidy yard, a fence with a gate in it, forest beyond. The fence was high and solid. The gate was basically a door.

  Madeline and Nadja Hardaker sat together on the opposite couch. Despite the similarity of their Insta handles, it was clear that being the non-identical kind of twins was not sufficient: they’d leaned hard into every turn where further distinction could be made—clothing, hairstyle, and attitude.

  Madeline’s hair was in a tight ponytail. She was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt with the letters WTF on it, upside down. “When can we see her?”

  “We don’t know,” I said.

  Nadja’s hair was long, unconfined, and she was wearing an actual dress. “Is she okay?”

  “She was taken straight to the hospital, and the police were there soon after.”

  Nadja was well aware this wasn’t an answer to her question. “But did she seem okay?”

  “She was cold,” I said. “She was a little intense. Other than that, I’d say she seemed fine.”

  “Alaina’s always intense,” Madeline said. “So. Do we get paid for doing this?”

  “No,” Ken said.

  “These are just a few initial questions,” I said. “I know your dad doesn’t have much time. And we’ve read the reports. I want to clarify a couple things. Then hopefully we’ll be back later with our cameraman. At which point, sure”—I glanced meaningfully at Ken—“there may be expenses. For which you’d be reimbursed.”

  “Oh, okay. So what do you want to know?”

  “You must have heard all this a hundred times,” Molly said to Greg. “I’d love to see the garden.”

  “Uh, sure,” he said, glancing at his watch. “You girls going to be okay?”

  They gave him identical eyerolls.

  “So,” I said, once Molly and their father had left the room. “We’re going to need to dramatize a couple parts of the story, for the show, so I need to make sure I’ve got a clear picture of what happened.”