Page 75 of Lost in the Never Woods

“Police have set up headquarters at the northern point of the woods. They will begin searching the woods for the Davies children, as well as the other missing children and signs of the kidnapper.”

A map appeared on the screen with a dot indicating where the police were starting their search. It was almost directly on the other side of the woods from Wendy’s house.

“The search-and-rescue units will be starting north and working their way south. The police have recommended that anyone living on the outskirts of the woods lock their doors and windows when they aren’t home, and keep their children under constant supervision. Anyone willing to volunteer to help with search efforts is encouraged to call…”

They were running out of time. Wendy knew it wasn’t safe for Peter to stay in the woods anymore. What if the cops started searching and found him hiding out in the hunting shack? He would probably get arrested and detained. Wendy doubted he would be able to break out of a holding cell, especially now that he was losing his magic at such an alarming rate. And if he was locked up, they wouldn’t be able to stop the shadow and all those kids would be lost and Peter would—well, they still weren’t sure what would happen to him, but it would be bad. Very bad. Wendy’s heart clenched. She refused to take that risk. Had she made a mistake by letting him go off on his own last night?

They needed to find that tree before the woods were overrun with cops and volunteers. Now, more than ever, they were running out of time.

“I’m going to the hospital,” Wendy said abruptly. She thought her parents would be so engrossed in the news that they might not even hear her, but they both swung around to face her.

“The hospital?” Mrs. Darling asked, confused. “But you don’t volunteer on the weekends.”

“Absolutely not!” Mr. Darling fumed, eyeing Wendy as if she were completely out of her mind. “I don’t want you leaving this house, and certainly not on your own!” She could tell his jaw was clenched by the way his mustache ruffled.

They were on edge and worried.

She needed to come up with a solid excuse.

“I promised Nurse Judy I would help out,” Wendy tried to explain. “They’re short staffed in the playroom and need someone to be there all day to keep an eye on the kids.”

“No,” Mr. Darling said in a low growl.

“I’ll be in the hospital surrounded by people,” Wendy reasoned. “Nothing is going to happen to me there. I’ll even call you when I’m heading home.” What would make him agree to her being gone all day? “Not to mention, Nurse Judy will be there looking after me the whole time.”

Mr. Darling made a gruff sound through his nose but didn’t object. Both her parents respected Nurse Judy, but it was more than just that.

There was a reason she was the head nurse, and why parents trusted her with their sick and injured kids. She was a hard-ass who didn’t beat around the bush, but, most impor- tant, she protected her patients fiercely and fought tooth and nail to get the best treatment for them. Even when Wendy was hospitalized, she remembered being scared and crying alone in her room while, in the hallway, Nurse Judy’s booming voice laid into doctors when she didn’t agree with their treatment plan.

It had been under her insistence that they ease up on the sedatives and, when Wendy was overcome with fear and grief and entirely unable to pull herself out of it, it was Nurse Judy who came in and guided her through with gentle words and distractions.

When her mother and father were too deep in their own mourning—her mother spending daylight hours in bed, her father joining search parties in the woods until he could no longer stand upright—it had been Nurse Judy who stepped in to take care of Wendy.

It was a solid bond of trust, one that Wendy needed to abuse in order to see Peter and stop the shadow.

Wendy’s mother glanced at her husband. For three heartbeats, she waited as they exchanged a silent look before Mrs. Darling turned back to Wendy. “Why don’t you ask Jordan to go with you?” she suggested.

Wendy inwardly groaned. She knew her mom was trying to help her out, that her father would feel better if Jordan was with her. She was probably also suggesting it in an attempt to nudge Wendy into making up with Jordan.

Her mother’s parenting was coming at a very inconvenient time.

Mr. Darling didn’t say yes, but he also wasn’t saying no.

“Fine, I’ll ask Jordan if she’ll go with me,” Wendy conceded.

She could tell her father didn’t want to agree to it. In all honesty, she didn’t blame him. It also felt kind of nice—but mostly strange—to know that he was still being protective of her. Again, it was terrible timing. It also made lying to him harder.

“Keep the volume up on your phone,” he finally said. “If I call it, you better answer, or I’ll come down to the hospital and get you myself.”

Wendy pulled out her cell phone and tilted the screen to face her parents as she turned the volume all the way up. “Done,” she said with a nod.

“And call when you’re on your way home!” he added. Mrs. Darling gently rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I will, promise,” Wendy said. She bolted out of the house before he could change his mind.

Now that she was outside, she could go find Peter. She would have to figure out the details of lying about Jordan later. For now, she just had to hope that her parents didn’t call the hospital to check her alibi. And, hopefully, Jordan was still mad enough at her to stay away and not blow her cover.

As soon as she stepped out onto the porch, Wendy froze. Two cop cars were parked outside of the Davieses’ house next door, as well as a crime-scene van. Mr. Davies stood on the front lawn in his bright red robe, surrounded by police officers and talking to Detective James. One arm was across his chest, the other hand clamped over his mouth. His curly hair was tousled. Detective James was speaking in a low, even tone. Mr. Davies nodded or shook his head intermittently. Behind him, the door to his house stood wide open as police officers walked in and out. Wendy could hear Mrs. Davies wailing inside, an animalistic croon of mourning that made goosebumps race up her arms.