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My mom saw it too. “Did you see that?” She leaned forward and nearly toppled the computer off the kitchen table.
My dad shook his head and righted the computer. “What? What was it?”
“She waved. She was waving to someone. Or starting to wave, anyway. Her hand went up and—” My mom quickly rewound the footage back a few seconds and they both watched in silence as I stepped to the edge of the security footage and started to raise my right arm. My mom hit pause.
It was hard to see my expression in the footage. It wasn’t crystal clear. But even from a distance, you could tell that I was smiling at someone.
The panic receded, replaced by a fizz of excitement. “Yes, I was waving. At him, at the blue Kia,” I exclaimed to zero reaction.
My dad leaned in closer and studied the screen for a few seconds. Then he pulled out his phone. “She’s definitely waving at someone. What’s the number the police gave you? They should know.”
My mom unlocked her phone to pull up the number, rubbing her forefinger and thumb together like she always did when she was nervous. “They’ll just say it’s one of her friends.” She paused then added hopefully, “Maybe it was?”
My dad nodded slowly but wouldn’t meet her eyes as he dialed the police. My mom rewound the footage one more time before pressing play to keep watching the rest. Just in case I showed up back at work, I guess. I knew I wouldn’t. Not alive, anyway. So I listened to my dad’s conversation with the police instead.
To my surprise, the woman who picked up—the same one my mom had spoken to earlier—told him that she had passed on my mom’s comments from earlier. Officer Willis was the name of the officer who would be looking into what had happened to me. There was no official investigation yet. But Officer Willis would look at the video they had—and anything else my parents felt like was important—to determine next steps and evaluate the level of likelihood that I was indeed missing.
My dad thanked the dispatcher and hung up. “An officer will be here this afternoon. They’re gonna ‘evaluate’ the case. Which means we need to figure out whatever we can before he gets here. She’s in trouble, Mari. I know she is.” His voice broke a little, and he cleared his throat. “I know I haven’t seen her every day like you have, and I know it’s been a while and I feel like shit about that, but she’s my daughter and I know her. She wouldn’t disappear like this for no good reason. She wouldn’t. What else can we do before that officer gets here?”
My mom shook her head and wiped at her cheeks. “I was really hoping we’d see something on the video. I guess—I guess we could go back to the coffee shop and see if anyone else saw anything? A regular? Maybe that hot chocolate guy who came in every day will be there?”
I perked up at this. Maybe he would be back. I felt sick at the idea of my parents running into him. But maybe, just maybe he’d come in. Maybe he’d let something slip. Or maybe someone else who had been on shift or on a smoke break noticed me getting into his car.
There were only so many threads to follow when someone disappeared into thin air.
I thought about my body, lying still and broken off Blacks Creek Road. I both longed for and dreaded being found. It would snuff the light right out of my parents’ eyes. But seeing the flickers of hope was worse, when I knew without a shred of doubt that there was no chance I was coming back.
13. MEGHAN
Oquirrh Mountains, Utah
1 year before
I watched in amazement as the woman with the blond messy bun abruptly pulled onto the sloping shoulder of the dirt road, her front bumper just a few feet away from the shoe.
As I watched her through the windshield, I could see that she was crying. Crying hard. Her shoulders shook a little as she lay her head against the steering wheel.
I didn’t know why she was crying. Or whether I had anything to do with it—like what had happened with the coyotes and the eagle. But regardless of why, she had stopped.
I couldn’t cry with her, but I let the waves of grief flow through me while she cried, letting them crash over me. I mourned my parents. I mourned Sharesa. They knew by now that I probably wasn’t coming back. I was dependable to a fault. I never left voicemails or texts unreturned. Unless there was something very wrong.
I called up the faces of the people I loved and felt the sadness settle around me like a heavy blanket. I’d never considered the fact that mourning might go both ways. Instead of mourning one person, I was mourning everyone I had ever cared about. They were all gone now.
Inside the vehicle, the girl cried harder. Loud, ugly sobs that I could hear as well as if she were standing next to me.
I tucked away my memories and just watched her for a few minutes. In the passenger seat was a purple-and-blue backpack with a water bottle strapped onto the side. As I peered into the window, I could see that she was wearing hiking boots. There wasn’t any camping gear that I could see anyway, which pointed to a day of hiking. Perhaps a day away from whatever was behind the tears coursing down her cheeks onto the steering wheel.
I watched anxiously as she finally sat upright with a shuddering breath. She studied her reflection in the rearview mirror and wiped her eyes.
“Please don’t go. Please get out,” I coaxed.
She didn’t react.
But a few minutes later, she took the car keys in one hand and stepped out of the car.
She closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun that was streaming through the branches and took a deep breath.
I watched, mesmerized.
