Chapter 22. Found

CHAPTER 22

Found

It seemed like only minutes before the entire clearing was filled with people. Their vehicles couldn’t make it all the way in because of the dense trees, but they pulled up to the nearest logging road. Paramedics and cops swarmed Wendy and the children, asking questions and checking to be sure they were all right.

Wendy was worried they’d say something about Peter. She kept getting distracted from what the medic was asking her, cutting glances over to the kids being questioned by the cops. But every snippet of conversation she caught was distinctly absent of Peter. They exchanged looks and caught glances from one another between the cops and paramedics. They were all nervous, maybe even a little scared, but under that Wendy could feel the pulse of excitement and triumph. She felt it in her own veins and caught a glimpse of it in the smiles that flickered over their faces.

Even Alex was exceptionally brave, although he refused to let go of Wendy’s leg. He was just a tiny form practically swallowed up by a blanket, but Wendy could see the longing in his large eyes. The same look as when she’d seen him holding the origami shark at the hospital.

One by one, their parents arrived, and they were loaded into cars to be taken to the hospital and further assessed.

Matthew and Joel spoke urgently to their mom about monsters as they were loaded into a police car. Ashley put on a brave face, but she was nearly silent, her whole body trembling as she reunited with her parents. Benjamin had a grin plastered across his face, which did little to soothe his mom. She kept touching his face, convinced he had a fever and was delirious.

Alex remained attached to Wendy until his father came trudging through the woods. Alex’s father was a giant. He scooped up his crying son in his large arms, gently rocking Alex back and forth. From sheer exhaustion, Alex fell asleep with his head against his father’s broad chest while Mr. Forestay spoke with an officer.

Wendy heaved a large sigh. The children were safe, and that was the important part. Even if they did tell the police what really happened, she knew no one would believe their stories.

The paramedics led Wendy away from the clearing and to one of the ambulances on the logging road.

Detective James wasted little time jumping right into his questions. It grated on her already raw nerves.

“So, you were taking out the trash,” Detective James repeated, reading over his scratchy notes on a bright yellow pad. He wore a sleek black windbreaker with the sheriff department’s seal on the back. Detective Rowan stood to the side in a matching jacket, speaking to one of the crime-scene investigators. “You saw someone in the woods behind your house, and just decided to follow him instead of calling the police?” He raised his scarred eyebrow critically.

“Yes,” Wendy said curtly with a nod. “Ouch!” She jerked her elbow away from Dallas the Paramedic as he dabbed at a cut.

“And then you heard the kids crying for help,” he went on.

“Like I said, I lost track of the guy, but I just followed their voices,” Wendy explained. She sounded confident. At least, she thought she did. She was getting better at this lying thing.

“And you didn’t think to call anyone for help?”

“There’s no reception all the way out here,” Wendy told him, which was true.

Detective James hummed, his eyes roving over his notes again. “And you just found them in the clearing?”

“They were lost, obviously.”

“And the kidnapper ran off?”

Wendy shrugged. “It’s dark in the middle of the woods at night. I couldn’t keep track of him.” She’d heard Benjamin, Ashley, Joel, and Matthew give a similar story. Alex had only given nods and shakes of his head. They couldn’t see their kidnapper properly. Joel said they’d been forced to wear blindfolds, to which the others quickly agreed. It was a flawed explanation, but the Astoria police officers seemed too relieved that the children had all been found safe and sound to start poking holes in their stories yet.

Except for Detective James.

He clicked his pen. “How did you get so banged up?”

“Running through the woods,” Wendy told him, wincing as Dallas moved to a cut on her temple. “I fell a few times. It was dark, and I was scared.”

Detective James observed her. Wendy sat there, staring back, afraid to move or blink under his watchful gaze.

“Wendy!” Her father’s voice boomed in the distance, echoing off the trees. She started so hard, she nearly fell off the back of the ambulance. “Where’s my daughter?”

Wendy jumped down. “Dad?” she called, trying to look between the people standing around, squinting in the bright headlights of the cars.

Mr. Darling came barreling into view, pushing people out of his way. “Wendy!” Mr. Darling took her by the shoulders, practically lifting her off the ground. Dallas quickly moved out of the way. “Are you all right?” he demanded, his wide eyes showing the whites as he looked her over. His hands clasped the sides of her head, her arms, her hands, taking inventory. “Are you hurt? What happened?” He stood over her protectively and everyone backed up to give them space.

“Dad, it’s okay, I’m fine,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze.

In her father’s wake, Wendy saw Donald Davies jog up, looking pale and frazzled. His eyes darted around to all the cops and detectives.

Instinctively, Wendy shrank closer to her father.

Detective Rowan’s attention swept to Wendy. She looked at Wendy, then over to Mr. Davies before her gaze settled back on Wendy. Almost imperceptibly, Detective Rowan shifted closer. Her hand moved to rest casually on her duty belt.

“Where’s Matthew and Joel?” Mr. Davies asked, sweat glistening on his forehead.

“They’re with your wife en route to the hospital,” Detective James told him.

“I came as soon as they called me,” Mr. Darling said. “We were on the other side of the woods, looking for the kids—but you found them?” His words spilled over one another. “I told you to stay inside when your mother and I weren’t home!” he barked angrily, but Wendy could feel the way his hands trembled.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Wendy said.

“Mr. Darling.” Detective James stepped forward. “We—”

“I know where John and Michael are, Dad,” Wendy said quietly. All eyes swung to her.

Her father froze, and she rushed on before he could get his hopes too high.

“They’re buried under the big tree in the clearing,” Wendy told him. Maybe if she said it softly, it would hurt a little less.

Mr. Darling’s hands dropped to his sides. He stumbled back a step as if she had slapped him. His breaths sawed in and out.

She glanced at Detectives James. “I remembered,” she told him, “when I saw the tree.”

Detective James cut a look at Detective Rowan. Immediately, she called over two CSI agents and murmured an order. They headed for the clearing, but Detective Rowan stayed where she was.

Wendy’s words hung in the air for a moment. Everyone was quiet.

Mr. Darling was rattled, but not surprised. Maybe he already knew and had just been waiting five years for someone to confirm it. He opened his eyes again.

Mr. Darling turned to Detective James. His face tried to pinch into the angry expression Wendy had grown to know well, but his chin wobbled and his eyes glistened. “What happened to them? Who did it? Was it the man who took the other kids?” he demanded, his voice thick.

“It was Mr. Davies.”

All the eyes that had been glued to Wendy swung over to Mr. Davies.

Wendy braced herself, expecting him to immediately deny it, to argue and push back. Maybe he would even start shouting about his innocence.

Instead, Mr. Davies took on a sickly pallor. His eyes fell to the ground. He bent forward and buried his face in his hands.

“What?” Wendy’s father was the first to break the silence, his attention bouncing between Wendy and his friend. His face scrunched up, sharp lines of confusion digging into his brow.

“Are you sure?” Detective James asked carefully, stony and serious. Detective Rowan silently slipped behind Mr. Davies. Wendy nodded, her fingers twisting into the hem of her shirt. “How do you know that, Wendy?”

Her hand found the acorn tied around her neck. “I remembered.” The gunshots echoing through the snowy woods. Her brothers crumpling to the ground. Splotches of red on white snow. The glint of the rifle. Mr. Davies’s signature red plaid. They were seared into her memory now, not soon to be forgotten. Probably never. A new set of nightmares to relive over and over.

Wendy wished Peter were by her side.

“She’s telling the truth,” Mr. Davies almost moaned, dropping his hands from his face. His eyebrows gathered in, his mouth twisted and miserable. “It was me.” His eyes darted nervously among Mr. Darling, Wendy, and Detective James.

Wendy saw Detective James’s hand go to his waist. Her father didn’t move a muscle.

Mr. Davies swallowed hard. “I did it—it-it was an accident,” he stammered. “I was hunting out of season—I had been drinking—I thought they were deer!” He spoke so fast Wendy could barely keep up. Mr. Davies buried his hands in his hair. “I panicked! I got a shovel from my truck and I—I—” He let out a groan like a wounded animal. “I wanted to confess,” he said pleadingly to Mr. Darling. Wendy’s father continued to stare. Deep red blotches bloomed on his cheeks. “But I had my two little boys at home, and my wife—”

Wendy felt no sympathy for Mr. Davies. She wasn’t fooled by his words. He had thought only of himself. By not coming clean, he’d let her family suffer for years. Because he kept his secret to save his own skin, she and her parents had gone through years of mourning with no closure. He hadn’t just taken John and Michael, he’d tortured her family. He’d let it happen. He’d watched as they’d borne the weight of losing John and Michael, and fell apart under it.

Saliva flooded Wendy’s mouth like she was about to vomit.

Detective James stepped forward. “Did you kidnap Wendy and the rest of those kids?” he asked. His eyes were sharp, his expression severe.

“No! No, that wasn’t me!” Mr. Davies said. Panic rose steadily in his voice. “I never laid a hand on Wendy or those kids! When she went missing, I didn’t know what to think! I started second guessing myself. I thought maybe I had killed her, too, but I hadn’t seen her body,” he tried to explain.

Wendy flinched. The way he said it was so cavalier.

“I thought the police would find them for sure, that it was just a matter of time before they figured out it was me—but they didn’t. Then those kids started going missing, and Joel and Matthew were taken—” Mr. Davies shook his head roughly. “I killed your sons, but I didn’t touch those kids, you have to believe me,” he begged Mr. Darling. Frantically, he turned to Wendy and took a step forward, his hands clasped together. “I’m so sorry, Wendy—I—”

Wendy recoiled.

Mr. Darling snapped out of his daze.

“Don’t you DARE come anywhere near my daughter!” Mr. Darling snarled, his lips pulling back, baring his teeth. “Youkilled my boys!” It was a guttural roar. Spittle collected at the corners of his mustache. “I swear to God, I’ll—”

Wendy’s father surged forward, nostrils flaring, the tendons in his neck corded. Mr. Davies shrank back and his arms shot up to shield himself. Around them, police officers converged on Mr. Davies and blocked her father’s path to him.

Wendy leapt forward and grabbed her dad’s arm, trying to pull him back. “Dad, don’t!”

Mr. Darling froze, but he didn’t take his eyes off the cowering man in front of him. His barrel chest heaved up and down. Wendy held on to her father as tightly as she could, but it was like a child holding back a charging bull. “He’s telling the truth. Mr. Davies didn’t take the kids,” Wendy said to Detective James.

“How do you know that?” Detective James asked, keeping his attention on Wendy’s dad and Mr. Davies.

“The man who took me was the same person who was keeping the kids hostage in the woods,” she said. She didn’t know why she was coming to the aid of Mr. Davies, but it was true: He hadn’t done it. Wendy was determined to be the bigger person. There was enough pain and hurt to go around for one night. “When I followed the man earlier tonight and saw his face, I remembered him,” she lied. “It was the same man that had taken me from the woods.”

“You know what the kidnapper looks like?” Detective James asked.

Wendy nodded.

He turned to Mr. Davies. “Donald Davies, turn around slowly and put your hands on your head,” he told him. Mr. Davies gave Wendy one last mournful look before he did as he was told. Detective Rowan put him in handcuffs and dragged him to one of the cop cars.

Wendy knew she would have to give a description of some man she would have to make up. Give more statements, answer more questions. But, right now, she just wanted to get out of the woods.

Mr. Darling didn’t move. He remained glaring at Mr. Davies’s retreating back.

“Dad,” Wendy said gently, tugging on his arm.

He turned to her, and Wendy could see pain, loss, and rage warring in his face. It glistened in his eyes.

“Can we go home now?” she asked in a small voice. “Please?”

Mr. Darling rubbed his nose on the back of his fist. With a stiff nod, he hooked his arm over her shoulders, holding her close to his side as they walked to his car down the road.

---

When Wendy and her father walked through the front door, her mother was sitting on the couch, her phone held up to her ear. She jumped and turned to them, the phone sliding from her hand. Mrs. Darling’s brown hair was a rumpled mess. She was still wearing her work scrubs and her eyes were red, the delicate skin around them puffy. Seeing Wendy, she drew a shuddering sigh, her fingers pressing to the base of her throat.

Behind her, the television was on. The screen showed the crowded logging road in the middle of the woods, the camera panning across ambulances, police cars, and yellow tape. There, front and center, were John’s and Michael’s school pictures. The same ones the news had used when they’d first gone missing.

This time, the marquee read: BODIES FOUND.

Mrs. Darling’s voice quaked when she spoke. “They called me.” She blinked and tears spilled down her cheeks. “They think it might be John and Michael?”

Wendy walked past her father to where her mother sat on the couch. Steeling herself, Wendy tried to work up the courage to speak. Her hands opened and closed into fists at her sides. Her palms were slick with sweat. Her parents deserved some sort of explanation, something to make up for or ease the pain, but she didn’t know what to say.

Her mother stared up at her, confusion and worry denting her brow.

With determination, Wendy sucked in a deep breath, but it rattled in her lungs and tightened her chest. She felt her eyes prickle, felt the burn in her throat. “I—” Her face crumpled. An uncontrollable sob choked her.

“I’m so sorry,” Wendy blurted. Fracturing sobs overcame her. “It’s all my f-fault, I’m sorry—I’m so sorry!” The words repeated over and over until they slurred together into nothing. Her body trembled and her chest bucked with cries as she wrapped her arms tightly around her middle.

The sheer shock on her mother’s face softened.

Mrs. Darling’s gentle hands pulled Wendy to her. Her knees sank into the couch and Mrs. Darling gathered her close. Wendy’s body went rigid at first. She didn’t know the last time her mother had touched her like this, couldn’t even remember how it felt. But Mrs. Darling tucked the top of Wendy’s head under her chin and wrapped her arms around her. Her hand rubbed her back in long, slow strokes. She hummed softly into Wendy’s ear and everything in Wendy released.

She collapsed against her mom, clutching Mrs. Darling as she cried into her shoulder. Spit and tears soaked into the green scrubs.

“I’m so sorry,” Wendy choked out. “It’s my fault— I was supposed to be watching them— I was there—” Grief squeezed her like a vice. “I saw it happen— I couldn’t remember— I couldn’t— It’s because of me we aren’t a family anymore—”

“Shh, my darling,” her mom said quietly into her ear. Her voice was somber and edged with pain, but tender nonetheless. She held Wendy close, continuing to rub her back as she stroked her hair with the other hand. “This is not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

Relief and sorrow crashed through Wendy. She curled up against her mom. She had put so much energy and care into not letting herself cry for fear of never stopping. But now, the anguished cries shuddered through her body, and she let them.

“I’m so sorry, Wendy…”

Wendy wanted to argue, to say that her mom had no reason to be sorry, she was the one to blame for John’s and Michael’s deaths.

“We were trying to protect you, but we let you down,” Mrs. Darling said. Wendy could only shake her head. She felt the sigh lift her mom’s chest. “We let our own mourning distract us from taking care of you. You are so brave, Wendy Darling.” Her mom gave her a small squeeze.

Mrs. Darling leaned back. Wendy felt her hands, cool against her flushed skin, cup her cheeks. Wendy hiccupped as she blinked through tears. She felt the weight on the couch shift. Her dad lowered himself next to them. One of his heavy hands settled on her back.

“You’ve been haunted by this for so long,” her mom told her, thumbs sweeping away her tears. Mrs. Darling’s smile was small but hopeful. “I want you to live, Wendy, not just endure.”

It was more than Wendy could take, so she let herself give in to it. She huddled against her mom, who continued to rub her back. Her dad’s steady hand didn’t leave.

“You found them, Wendy,” her mom murmured against the top of her head. “They’re safe.”

They stayed there for a long while, Wendy pressed between her mom and dad, letting them hold her close. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of a black pit that threatened to swallow her whole, but every time she felt as though she was about to fall in headfirst, she closed her eyes and remembered John and Michael.

Wendy appreciated her parents’ comfort, but after a while, it started to feel suffocating. She was overheated and thirsty. Her lips tasted like salt. She needed some space, some fresh air, and some sleep.

She gently untangled herself from her parents’ arms and got up off the couch. “I’m going to go to sleep,” she said through sniffles, wiping at her runny nose. “In my old room.”

Her mom and dad exchanged looks.

“I’m okay,” Wendy told them, and this time it wasn’t a lie. She inhaled a deep breath and managed a small smile. “Really.”

Her dad finally nodded and her mom gave her hand a small squeeze before Wendy went upstairs.

The unlocked door swung open easily. Wendy crept over to the bay window and crawled onto the bench. The sky was turning a periwinkle blue, creeping toward sunrise. Wendy leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. She hooked her thumb around the leather cord around her neck and squeezed the acorn in her palm.

A cool breeze rolled in from the woods, carrying with it the smell of honeysuckle. A warm and tentative hand cupped her cheek. Wendy sighed and a smile curled her mouth. When she opened her eyes, Peter sat next to her, his legs dangling out the window. The first ray of sun washed over his skin. His shadow spilled across the bedroom floor next to Wendy’s.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Every bit of his brilliance had returned, but that worried line between his brows was still there.

“Yeah,” Wendy said. She paused and then shook her head. “I mean no, not really, but yes, I will be,” she corrected herself. She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest.

Peter’s thumb brushed the corner of her lips before his hand dropped to his side. “And your parents?”

“About the same, I’d say.” She leaned closer. “Did you see what happened?”

Peter nodded. He watched her, eyes thoughtful and full of stars.

Wendy looked up into his face, trying to drink him in and memorize every inch of him. The upward curve of his nose. The faint point to his ears. The swirl of his auburn hair. The splash of freckles across his cheeks. She knew their time was running out, that he would have to leave and go back to Neverland. She desperately wanted to savor him for every last moment.

Wendy reached out and brushed her thumb against the crease in Peter’s brow. His blue eyes blinked slowly. “When’s all of this going to go back to normal?” she asked, bumping her knee against his arm.

Peter gave her a small grin. “Soon,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll go back to my normal shape and size when I get to Neverland.”

Wendy shifted to lean against him. “I wish I could remember it,” Wendy said. “Neverland, I mean. I still have that whole chunk of my memory missing. I wish I could remember what it was like, being there with my brothers…”

“Maybe you’ll start getting the memories back now,” Peter said with a small lift of his shoulders. “Maybe now that you’ve unlocked them, more will follow. Good ones. Happy ones.”

“Maybe.”

“Or…” Peter’s grin quirked to a mischievous angle. He leaned in conspiratorially. “You could just come back with me to Neverland.”

With that glint in his eye, it was hard for her to tell if he was being serious. Against all logic, hope jumped in her chest. “I could stay with you?”

“You could stay with me,” he repeated.

“And I could see my brothers again?”

“Yes.”

Wendy dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. Of course, it was too good to be true, or that simple. “But then they wouldn’t be able to move on, would they?”

Peter held her gaze, but his smile lessened. “No.”

Wendy nodded. “And neither would I…” It was a wonderful idea. Running away to Neverland with Peter. Being able to see her brothers again. Having no responsibilities. No real world to have to deal with. But it also meant giving up so much. Wendy let out a small laugh. “With my luck, we’d just kick-start this whole nightmare all over again,” she told him.

Peter laughed and bumped his shoulder into hers. “Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be good.”

“Well, you could just stay here and grow up,” she said, heart fluttering. “With me.”

Peter’s smile was soft and sweet. Just for her.

She knew the answer before he could say it.

“I can’t. I need to go back and take care of the lost kids. I want to,” he corrected himself. “To look after them.”

Wendy nodded.

“Growing up sounds awful anyway,” Peter said casually, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked out over the backyard toward the woods. His eyes shone especially bright and the tip of his nose turned pink. “Though…” His head tipped and he looked at Wendy from the corner of his eye. “Maybe not so awful if it were with you.”

Wendy laughed and wiped tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Will you tell John and Michael when you see them?” she asked. “That I love them and think about them all the time?”

“I will.”

With a shaky nod, Wendy threw herself against him and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Peter squeezed her against him. She laid her ear against his chest. His heartbeat thrummed, fast but steady. Wendy tried to ignore the dread weighing on her.

“You have to leave now, don’t you,” she mumbled against his shoulder. It wasn’t a question. She leaned back to peer up at him.

Peter nodded. His hair tickled her forehead as he stared sadly into her eyes.

She wanted to tell him that she didn’t think she could handle saying good-bye. That the thought of never seeing him again terrified her. That she needed him, that she wanted to keep him, but she couldn’t talk past the lump in her throat.

Peter smiled. He cupped Wendy’s cheeks in his hands. Her eyes closed. His kiss was soft. His lips tasted sweet as honeysuckle.

“I will never forget you,” he whispered against her lips.

When she opened her eyes, he was gone.

Wendy wrapped her arms tightly around herself. The cool breeze drifting in from the woods tickled her skin.

It seemed impossible for things to go back to normal after a day like today. She knew there would be more questions in the morning. She would have to explain to Jordan what had happened, or as much as she could, anyway. They would probably argue some more, but it was more important for Wendy to explain herself and to keep Jordan as her best friend than to be “right” or the winner of the conversation.

There would be moving on after this. The summer would be over soon, and she would be starting college. A new life and a new path.

Wendy gazed up at the stars, and the stars gazed back.