She hadn’t been over to Opus 6 in a few years and, of course, it had expanded in new directions. She walked toward the round pool on the far end of the property, where she and Ryan had once gone for a dip when she was maybe eleven and still friends with him. She remembered treating the whole place like a playground. Climbing and jumping and chasing salamanders this way and that.
Somewhere along the way, Avery had lost sight of the meaning behind Opus 6. The purpose of it. It was meant to be a physical reminder to them all of what had been lost, or taken. She felt mortified now that she’d ever let that happen, ever decided it was time to move on; she hadn’t even turned up at the tenth-anniversary vigil.
She heard a car and car doors and voices, and someone appeared at the far end of a winding path that led to a flat circle atop the main structure; for a second Avery thought it was her brother. She knew that Max had had brown hair. People had estimated he’d be around five feet ten inches by now.
Spotting her, he walked very slowly forward—like he was as suspicious of her as she was of him. “Can I help you?”
Of course it wouldn’t be Max.
“Lucas?” She saw no recognition in his eyes.
“Do I know you?”
It was really him.
They were really back.
Flesh and blood.
Not from central casting.
She hadn’t expected him to be so . . . grown.
Such a guy.
So . . . mesmerizing.
“You did,” she said. “When we were little . . . You know.
Before.” Before life got crazy, before the whole town turned search party, before everyone said dumb things about hugging your children closer at night, before closing beaches and dredging shorelines and ribbons on trees and candlelight vigils.
“I’m Avery.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I guess the polite thing would be to say it’s nice to see you again.”
“Where is he?” she blurted. “Why didn’t he come back?”
“Who?” Lucas’s eyes seemed blank for a second. “Oh. Max?”
“He’s my brother.” The air felt dense, weighted—like an invisible tarp was holding back a storm inches overhead.
Lucas looked tired and not at all like a murderer. Murderers couldn’t possibly have such soft-looking hair, such sad eyes. Could they?
He said, “I have no idea.”
“You were best friends.”
“I’m sorry”—he started to walk away—“but I don’t remember him.”
“I don’t understand.” Avery stepped forward. “You couldn’t forget a whole person. You must remember something. I remember you.” She raced around her mind for a specific memory. “Like remember they used to have a Halloween parade in the park over by the pier, and one year you were dressed as a sailor and Max was a pirate and you posed for a picture where he had his sword at your neck? Even I remember that and I was only four.”
Avery had been dressed as Smurfette, her face a chalky blue that matched her eyes. That had been back when her hair was white blond—not light brown like now. Back when her mother got excited about holidays and used to make jack-o’-lantern cookies and wrap the front porch in spiderwebs.
“How do you know that you remember?” Lucas seemed annoyed now, his jaw tight; he had the same eyes as Ryan but leaner features; he was, for lack of a better word, prettier. “Maybe you think you remember it because you have that picture.”
“I swear I remember it.” She was not, however, sure.
“Swear all you want. It doesn’t mean you do. I bet if you look at a picture of your kindergarten class, you won’t remember all of them.”
Avery felt herself getting annoyed, too—a tingling in her fingers and on the tip of her nose. “It’s not my memory that’s the problem.”
He looked hurt but only for a millisecond. “All I remember is one ridiculous thing. I remember riding a carousel. So if Max had a thing for carousels, maybe that’s a clue for you. Otherwise, sorry.”
She and Max had ridden a carousel at Disney World once, the summer before The Leaving. There were pictures of that, too.
“You have to help me,” she said then, desperate. “I need to find him.”
“Listen—what did you say your name—”
“Avery.”
“Right. Avery. I’ve kind of had an insane twenty-four hours and—”
“Everything okay?” Ryan was walking down the main path now, and Avery rushed to him, hugged him. “I’m so sorry.” She should have called him the second she heard; she knew that now.
Ryan looked at Lucas and said, “Can you give us a minute?”
Lucas seemed relieved to have a reason to leave.
“You don’t think he did it, do you?” Avery asked when Lucas had reached the house.
“I don’t know what to think.” Ryan rubbed his eyes. “Still no sign of Max?”
She shook her head, not finding words at first, then settling on, “I never thought any of them would come back. I figured they were dead or had new identities somewhere. I never imagined it would go like this.”
“No one did,” he said. “I mean, I’m happy he’s back. At least I think I am. But it’s just . . . It’s so messed up. I actually had a thought today, that I’m jealous that he was the one who got taken and I was the one who was here.”