"Your father told me she had died when he was young. But I found a letter years later. It was from a woman in another state. She said she was Claire and that she wanted to see her brother."
"Did you meet her?"
"No. Robert destroyed the letter."
"Why?"
"He said she was involved with the people who built Briar Glen."
I looked at Bennett.
He had returned to the doorway.
"Did your husband ever mention an Edward Mercer?" he asked.
My mother nodded.
"He came to the house twice."
"When?"
"Once before Robert disappeared. Once afterward."
"What did he want?"
"The first time, he wanted the notebook. The second time, he wanted the pendant."
"Did you give it to him?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I had already given it to Robert."
Bennett stepped farther into the room.
"Did he threaten you?"
"He said my son would be better off not knowing what his father had done."
I looked at her.
"What had he done?"
She shook her head.
"I never found out."
Bennett took out his phone and enlarged the photograph.
"Can you identify the location?"
My mother studied it.
"Yes."
"Where?"
"The old ferry landing."
I knew the place. It had been closed for years, its wooden platform rotting above the river. Beyond it stood the remains of a small warehouse.
Bennett called the officers stationed nearby.
They had found no one.
But they had discovered something else.
A fresh set of footprints leading from the riverbank to the warehouse.
And beside the footprints was a small silver object.
The missing crescent pendant.
We reached the ferry landing shortly before midnight.
The warehouse stood behind a line of dead trees, its windows dark and broken. The river moved slowly beneath the wooden platform, reflecting the occasional light from the road.
Two officers searched the building while Bennett and I remained outside.
"Don't go anywhere," he said.
"I know."
He gave me a look.
"You're not particularly convincing."
Before I could answer, one of the officers called from inside.
"Officer Bennett!"
We entered.
The warehouse smelled of damp wood and rust. A single chair stood in the middle of the floor. On it lay a brown envelope.
My name was written across the front.
Bennett put on gloves before opening it.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed a man standing beside a hospital bed. His face was partly obscured by a bandage, but I recognized the shape of his shoulders.
My father.
Beside the bed stood a woman.
She was younger than my mother, with dark hair and a small silver crescent around her neck.
On the back of the photograph was a date.
OCTOBER 9, 1994.
Three days after the night my father disappeared.
Beneath the date, someone had written:
He survived. She made sure he did.
I stared at the photograph.
"Who is the woman?"
Bennett turned it over again.
"There's no name."
I examined her face.
Something about her seemed familiar, but I couldn't place it.
Then I noticed the hand resting on my father's shoulder.
There was a ring on her finger.
A simple silver band with a small black stone.
My mother had a matching one.
I looked up.
"Where's my mother?"
Bennett immediately reached for his radio.
The officer outside answered.
"She's at the house. We haven't moved."
"Check her now."
A burst of static.
Then:
"Officer Bennett, we have a problem."
"What?"
"The house is empty."
My stomach dropped.
"She was there when we left."
"We found the back door open."
Bennett turned to me.
"Stay here."
But I was already moving toward the exit.
He caught my arm.
"Listen. If she's been taken, rushing after her won't help."
I pulled away.
"That woman in the photograph is connected to my father. My mother knows who she is."
"Then we'll find her."
He looked down at the envelope.
There was one more item inside.
A small piece of paper, folded twice.
Bennett opened it.
The handwriting was different from the writing on the envelope.
It was neat, precise, and familiar.
My mother's.
If you are reading this, Claire has come back.
Below it was another sentence.
Do not let her take you beneath the river.
We searched the ferry landing until two in the morning.
The officers found no sign of my mother, no vehicle tracks, and no evidence of a struggle. Whoever had taken her—or whoever had persuaded her to leave—had been careful.
Bennett questioned the nearby residents, but nobody had seen anything.