Chapters (57)
- Books by Gregg Olsen
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Hear More from Gregg
- Books by Gregg Olsen
- A Letter from Gregg
- Acknowledgements
Dr. A: Rylee, you know I’m recording you, right?
Me: Yes. I know that. What are you going to do with the tapes? I was thinking about that after our first, ah, session.
Dr. A: They are only for me. They won’t be played for anyone else. Someday, when the time is right or when I die, they’ll go back to you.
Me: Okay. I guess.
Dr. A: Last session we talked about how you found your father—stepfather—and how you and Hayden made it to the waterfront of Port Orchard. Put me there, Rylee. Tell me what you remember.
Me: (short pause). Okay. It’s silly but I still remember this seagull fighting with another, smaller, shorebird over a French fry on the bench beside me and Hayden. The fight was occupying Hayden’s attention, which was good. I remember hugging him. Telling him we would be all right. I put my arm around his shoulder, feeling his bones underneath his dark blue hoodie and the clean T-shirt we exchanged for the bloody one I buried in the woods.
Dr. A: Your brother means a lot to you.
Me: (crying) Everything. He’s small. He’s been my baby since the day my mom brought him home. He trusted me. I would have done anything I could for him. I didn’t nuzzle him or hold him. I wanted to. We’re not the touchy-feely kind of brother and sister.
Dr. A: Put me there. What did you see? How did you feel?
Me: We watched a green and white Washington State ferry chug through the choppy waters to the dock in Bremerton. We sat in silence as the cars unloaded. Feel? Scared and empty inside, but I didn’t show it.
Dr. A: You wanted to protect your brother.
Me: Yes and no. It’s just the way I am. I once saw a girl get hit by a car and I didn’t even yelp. I was ten and back then my name was Jessica. I know it’s dumb, but I loved that name. I remember watching a green Honda Civic smack into that girl in jeans and a pretty pink top. I didn’t even flinch. I didn’t go to her. A lady standing next to me by the side of the street where it happened must have thought that my nonresponse was a result of shock, but it wasn’t anything like that.
Dr. A: What was it?
Me: When you have to pretend that you’re someone or something that you’re not you get pretty good at concealing emotions. Reactions, my dad used to say, are for amateurs.
Dr. A: Are you hiding your feelings now?
Me: Do I look like it, Doctor?
Dr. A: Sorry. Please go on, Rylee.
Me: Maybe we shouldn’t do this. Maybe it won’t help me.
Dr. A: I can’t promise anything. I believe it will. I believe that it will help you move forward. Your past has a hold on you in ways you might not even understand. Please, go on.
Me: Hayden kept saying that maybe our dad wasn’t dead. He was hoping. And I went along with his hope, just for him. But not for long. I knew we had to get out of there. We had Dad’s credit cards, some money, and even my mom’s driver’s license.
Dr. A: Her license?
Me: Right—a duplicate. Hers. It puzzled me for a minute then I figured it out. I knew the credit cards were useless. They could and would be traced. I knew the eighty dollars we had would run out. And I knew that we didn’t have anyone we could trust, Doctor. (pause) Trusting anyone was against our family’s rules.
Dr. A: I understand. Trust can only be earned.