No one was there.
She checked her watch: 11:05.
Leaping up from the bench, she hurried down the rest of the block and across the next street until she found herself in front of the red-rimmed doorway leading up to Clear Water Counseling. She raced up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.
When she rushed into Dr. Baker’s office on the second floor, Kris found the doctor sitting with Sadie on the floor beside the windows looking out onto Center Street. Beside them was a stack of picture books. Sadie was slowly flipping through a book in her hands, her lips moving slightly as she whispered the words to herself.
They both looked up, startled, as Kris barged in.
“Mommy!” Sadie cried, the book instantly forgotten. She hopped up and ran to Kris, wrapping her arms around her mother’s waist.
Kris buried her fingers deeply into her daughter’s curls. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry I’m late. I just lost track of time. How was it? Was it okay?”
She felt Sadie’s head against her stomach as the girl nodded.
When Kris looked up, Dr. Baker was crossing quickly toward her. Dr. Baker’s cheeks were high and shining in a large, warm smile, but her brow was furrowed.
“Kris? Are you all right?” she asked quietly, careful to not alert Sadie.
Kris suddenly imagined what she must look like—eyes wild, face flushed, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just … realized I was late. I’m okay.”
Okay. You’re always “okay.” Everything’s “okay.”
“How was she?” Kris asked, motioning to Sadie.
At first, Dr. Baker refused to accept the change of subject. She stared at Kris, her eyes narrowed with concern. Then she blinked, and her expression softened.
“Oh, we had a very nice chat. She’s a smart, creative girl. Just like you were when you were little.”
Crouching down, Dr. Baker spoke directly to Sadie. “Would you mind giving me a minute with your mommy? Why don’t you go back and look at the books? You can borrow one if you want.”
Without a word, Sadie slipped away from Kris and quickly crossed the room, back to the stack of books near the windows.
Once more, Dr. Baker’s demeanor changed, her lovely face becoming sharper as her jaw clenched.
“I would like to see Sadie again tomorrow, if you’ll allow it.”
“Tomorrow?” Kris asked. Her pulse quickened.
“I’m in town for a couple more days, and then I’ll be at my office in Emporia until next Friday. I really don’t want to wait a week to see her again.”
Kris could feel her heart thudding. If it pounded any harder, she was sure Dr. Baker would hear it. “Is there something wrong?”
Dr. Baker took a breath, thinking. Her hesitation only served to deepen Kris’s anxiety.
“Have you talked to her about when you were here? When you were little?”
“Here?” Kris asked, confused. “You mean when I came to see you—”
“No. No, I mean, when you visited this town with your parents. Have you told her about the summer your mother was sick?”
The memory of the tea party in Sadie’s room flashed through Kris’s mind, but she did her best to ignore it. “I said she died of cancer, but that’s about it. I didn’t want Sadie to be scared of the lake house. I wanted her to see it as a happy place.”
“But it wasn’t a happy place, Kris.”
“It was for me. I got to spend time with my mother. To say good-bye.”
Dr. Baker cocked her head, eyeing Kris as if she were an exotic animal she had read about but never seen in the flesh. Then she blinked, and her curious expression was gone.
“You know, I see patients of all ages.”
“No, that’s okay,” Kris said before she had a chance to give the invitation any real thought.
“Kris, your husband is gone. For someone who went through what you went through as a child, that has to …”
“This is about Sadie.”
Dr. Baker pursed her lips. “Well then, as I said, I’d like to see you again tomorrow. Then we can set an appointment for every Saturday while you’re here.”
“That often?”
Dr. Baker shrugged. “These things take time.”
Kris glanced across the room at Sadie, who was slowly turning the pages of a much-too-simple picture book.
She’s broken, Kris told herself. All because of you.
Dr. Baker must have sensed Kris’s unease, for she smiled sympathetically and made a point to add, “I’m not deeply concerned about this, Kris. It’s just better to get to the root of her issues now, rather than letting them fester. It’s like a bad tooth. In the beginning there might only be mild discomfort. You think you can live with it. But if it’s not treated, the infection can spread. It gets in your blood. It gets in your brain. And the damage is done.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE SECOND THEY got home from Dr. Baker’s office, Sadie practically begged Kris to play hide-and-seek. In any other situation, Kris would have been thrilled by this. But Sadie’s behavior was unnerving. It was as if she were on the edge of a manic episode. Her emotions seemed like a great, rushing wave that was about to crash.
“I think you need a nap,” Kris told her. “You’re exhausted. You’re acting—”
Sadie cut her off, screaming, “Why won’t you just play with us?” before storming off down the hall and up the stairs to her makeshift playroom.
This type of behavior demanded consequences. But Kris stood motionless in the kitchen, the shadows of leaves playing across the countertops, Sadie’s words ringing in her ears:
Play with us.
Beneath her chin, Kris’s skin tingled as though an invisible finger were caressing her flesh, lifting her head, drawing her forward. Then, as quickly as it came, the sensation was gone.
Kris hurried through the great room and into the bathroom. She found the pill bottle, twisted off its cap, and watched as the last pill tumbled into her trembling hand. She stared at it with an irritating mixture of disbelief and inevitability. She had known this moment was coming. She had been way too liberal with the meds. What started out as a targeted way to take the edge off had become habit and then …
Abuse.
She instantly shook her head at the thought.
No. Carelessness. That’s all it was. A need to keep her own anxiety at bay. But that anxiety was worse than ever. Everything around her seemed to be pressing in, suffocating her like an invisible weight on her chest.
You can leave, the timid voice in her mind suggested. Pack up and go back home. This isn’t working. This place can’t be saved. It’s rotten and it’s rotting Sadie and it’s going to rot you if you stay any longer.
She knew this was not a rational thought. This was fear speaking. It was the horror of learning about those poor lost girls and the unnerving feeling that she had somehow been involved even though she knew this was impossible. She had been a teenager in Blantonville when the first girl disappeared. And when the others went missing, she had been off living her life, oblivious to the pain in this town, focusing only on her own path. She knew the places where the girls had been found, but many people did. They were familiar landmarks in these parts. She was sure that most kids who spent more than a few weeks in Pacington eventually found their way to the forest and down to Blanton’s Pass or into the hollow of an old oak tree.