Their early morning journey from town to the edge of the deep woods had the hazy feel of a dream.
In the miles from the hospital to the old highway, no one spoke. For Max, there was something about this clandestine rescue that precluded the luxury of talk. He assumed it was the same for his co-conspirators, for although they told themselves this move was in the girl’s best interest—and indeed believed it—there was still a nagging worry, an unbound thread. At least at the hospital she was safe. The door locked; the glass was too thick to break. Here, in the last stretch of valley before the big trees, the world outside was too close; none of them doubted that those woods would beckon her.
He was in the backseat of the police cruiser, with Julia seated to his right. The girl lay between them with her head in Julia’s lap, her bare feet in his. In the front seat, Ellie and Peanut sat in silence. Except for the sound of their breathing and the crunching of the tires on thick gravel, the only sound came from the radio. It was turned down so quietly it could hardly be heard at all, but every now and then Max caught a stanza or two and recognized a song. Right now it was “Superman” by Crash Test Dummies.
He looked down at the girl in his lap. She was so incredibly thin and frail. Today’s scratches marred her cheeks, but even in this half-light he could see the silvery scars of older scratches. Evidence that she’d often attacked herself or been attacked. The bruise on her forehead was purple now, angry-looking. But it was the scarring on her left ankle that made his stomach tighten. The ligature marks.
“We’re here,” Ellie said from the front seat as she parked beneath an old shake lean-to. Moss turned the slanted roof into a patch of green fur.
Max scooped the sleeping child into his arms. Her arms curled around his neck; she pressed her wrecked cheek against his chest. Her black hair fell sideways, over his arm, almost to his thighs.
He knew exactly how to hold her. How was it that even after all these years, it still felt as natural as breathing?
Ellie hurried on ahead and turned on the exterior lights.
Max carried the girl toward the house. Julia fell into step beside him.
“You’re still safe,” she said to the girl. “We’re outside now. At my parents’ house. Safe here. I promise.”
From somewhere, deep in the woods, a wolf howled.
Max stopped; Julia did the same.
Peanut made the sign of the cross. “I am not feeling good about this.”
“I’ve never heard a wolf out here,” Ellie said. “It can’t be her wolf. He’s over in Sequim.”
The girl moaned.
The wolf howled again; an undulating, elegiac sound.
Julia touched his shoulder. “Come on, Max. Let’s get her inside.”
No one spoke as they walked through the house, up the stairs, and into the bedroom. Max put the child on the bed and covered her with blankets.
Peanut glanced nervously at the window, as if the wolf were out there, pacing the yard, looking for a way in. “She’s gonna try to escape. Those are her woods.”
So they were all thinking the same thing. Somehow, as impossible as it sounded, the child belonged out there more than she did in here.
“Here’s what we need, and fast,” Julia said. “Bars—skinny ones—on the window, so she can see outside but can’t escape, and a dead bolt for the door. We need to cover every scrap of shiny metal with adhesive tape—the faucet, the toilet handle, the drawer pulls; everything except the doorknob.”
“Why?” Peanut asked.
“I think she’s afraid of shiny metal,” Julia answered distractedly. “And we’ll need a video camera set up as surreptitiously as possible. I’ll need to record her condition.”
“I thought you said no pictures,” Ellie said, frowning.
“That was for the tabloids. This is for me. I need to observe her 24/7. We need food, too. And lots of tall houseplants. I want to turn one corner of the room into a forest.”
“Where the Wild Things Are,” Peanut said.
Julia nodded, then went to the bed and sat down beside the girl.
Max followed her. Kneeling beside the bed, he checked the girl’s pulse and breathing. “Normal,” he said, sitting back on his heels.
“If only her mind and her heart were as easy to read as her vital signs,” Julia said.
“You’d be out of a job.”
Julia surprised him by laughing.
They looked at each other.
The bedside lamp flickered on and off, sparking electricity. The girl on the bed made a whining, desperate sound.
“There’s something weird going on here,” Peanut said, stepping back.
“Don’t do that,” Julia said quietly. “She’s just a child who has been through hell.”
Peanut fell silent.
“We should go to town. Get supplies from the lumber store,” Ellie said.
Max nodded. “I have time to put up the bars before my shift.”