The Girls Are Missing Read Free Page B

fairy palace was. That first small hill. She climbed up to see it and was amazed at what Gail had done. A little garden with pebbles and moss and even a pool, all neatly arranged. What a creative child she had.
    Love and admiration for Gail surged within her. She must get back to her quickly. Scrambling down the side of the hill, she continued along the path. And there, just as Gail had said, was another rocky hill.
    She could not see any flies. Perhaps she was in the wrong place, or they had retired for the evening. The rocks seemed full of crevices. Some had trees growing out of them. Others were filled with moss, and leaves, and—
    Yes, leaves. In one place the leaves and twigs were piled up to form a mound. She moved closer. And suddenly she was assaulted by all of it, the flies, the droning, the smell. She backed away, fighting waves of nausea.
    After several deep breaths she tried again. Closer this time. She picked up a stick. For a moment she stood contemplating the leaves, then dropped the stick.
    Still holding her breath, she hurried back along the path, across the brook and up into the sunny meadow, where she collapsed into the grass.

4  
    Gail greeted her with astonishment. “Did you go there already?”
    “I went,” said Joyce. “I just love what you did with that fairy palace. It’s probably supposed to be a secret, but I couldn’t help looking. Gail, why don’t you run upstairs and take a bath now, before dinner?”
    “Why? It’s still daytime.”
    “Lots of people take baths in the daytime. It’ll cool you off, you’re all hot and sticky. And look at your knees.”
    Gail inched toward the stairs. “A bubble bath?”
    “Of course. But not too long, Carl will be home. Do you want me to start it for you?”
    Then she would know when Gail was in the tub.
    “Why does Carl take so many showers?” Gail asked, following her up the stairs.
    “Because he gets hot and sticky, too.”
    In the muggy summer weather, Carl always seemed to melt. But then, it wasn’t easy, that daily trek into New York and back.
    When Gail’s tub was running, and Gail sitting happily among the bubbles, Joyce went downstairs to the telephone in the kitchen. She looked in the directory, first under “P,” then realized she hadn’t been thinking. Cedarville, Village of.
    She dialed the number. It rang twice. A voice answered, “Cedarville police. Chief D’Amico.”
    “I don’t know if this is anything at all,” she began. “My daughter and her friend—they were playing in the woods near here—”
    “Take your time, ma’am. Where is ‘here’?”
    “Shadowbrook Road. They were playing in the woods, and they found—something.”
    She thought she heard a change in his breathing, some alertness. He said nothing.
    “They couldn’t see what it was,” she went on, “but it upset them. I went over there—”
    She described the mound of leaves, the flies, the smell. “It must have been an animal. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
    “Where did you say this was?”
    “The woods. Up near the Lattimer place, near Shadow-brook Road. But the more I think about it—”
    “We’ll check it out, Mrs.—”
    “Gilwood. No, really, I’m starting to feel like an idiot.”
    “Don’t worry about that, Mrs. Gilwood. You did right to call us. Can you tell me the exact place?”
    “You start from the end of Shadowbrook Road, right near Mr. Lattimer. There’s this brook …”
    She directed him along the brook and onto the path. She did not know what those dead plants were, but he couldn’t miss them, the bone-white stalks. She described the hill, the second one, the crevice of leaves and sticks. He asked for her full name, her address, and said, “Thanks a lot, Mrs. Gilwood. We’ll check it out.”
    Probably just an animal, she thought again. A dead animal that somebody covered with leaves.
    Her ears caught the sound of a car in the driveway. She got up from her chair and lit the broiler.
    Carl came into the