The Long Way Back, page 22
Zach pushes her hair out of her eyes and tucks a strand behind her ear. “There’s nothing we can do, Eva.”
She searches his eyes for the man she thought she fell in love with. He’s in there somewhere, quiet and kind, thoughtful and serious. But there’s nothing left for her here if Zach has already given up. Eva’s heart is torn for the agony of his broken face, the thrashing he must have endured for taking her to Little Moose. She understands that her very presence—as anything less than an enthusiastic ally—was an extraordinary threat to Abner and the plans of the Family of Zion. Zach risked everything to be with her, even if what they shared was nothing more than a pitiful facsimile of love. A part of Eva wishes that she could comfort him.
But she’s not about to give up.
“Okay,” she tells Zach, pretending to soften. She doesn’t know exactly what the Uprising is yet, but it fills her with a quiet dread—and a steely resolve to do something. Anything. “I’ll be quiet. I’ll wait for you.” What she wants to do is scream: What about my mother? What about the people of Landing? And Duluth and Manhattan and Leavenworth and Portland and every other beautiful place that I love? But she doesn’t. She forces a taut smile, and Zach presses his lips to hers, briefly.
“Go,” he says. “Head to the amphitheater and the Gathering. Tell Rachel that you fell. I’ll come for you.”
Eva turns, picks her crutches up from the forest floor, and begins to make her way back to the trail. She doesn’t look over her shoulder.
She doesn’t say, Don’t bother. I’ll already be gone.
PART III The Sutton Girls
INSTAGRAM POST #1001
Not going to lie, friends, it has been a RIDE. Thank you for joining us as Eva Explored (see what we did there?) so much of this beautiful country we call home. Cue the “Star Spangled Banner,” “America the Beautiful,” and let’s throw in some “Born in the U.S.A.,” because who doesn’t love a little Springsteen? To say that we have loved these years on the road would be an obscene understatement, but it’s time for us to put Sebastian out to pasture (on blocks) and reenter the so-called real world (do we have to?). Thank you for following our journey, for keeping Sebastian’s tank—and our bellies—full, and for taking our suggestions to get outside and connect with this beautiful world seriously. We have loved your stunning pictures, generous tags, and heartfelt stories about your own experiences on the road and in the wild. The adventure is far from over. It’s your turn now. #findingroots #yourturnnow #evaexplores #evaexplored
Always, ALWAYS, take the long way back,
xoxo—Charlie & Eva
[IMAGE CONTENTS: Charlie and Eva sit on the fold-out stairs of Sebastian, their silver Airstream trailer. Charlie is on the top step and Eva is two steps below, nestled between her mother’s blue jean–clad legs. Eva’s head rests on her mother’s knee, her long curls half-obscuring her face. Both women are dressed in colorful Nordic sweaters and heavy boots, and snow blankets the ground in front of the trailer. Charlie is leaning down to kiss the crown of her daughter’s head.]
Comments
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shellyblake Is it true? Is Evangeline Sutton missing?
ellawatts Praying for you Eva!!!
shellyblake @ellawatts So it’s true then.
ellawatts @shellyblake I don’t know. But prayer never hurts!
shellyblake @ellawatts Cuz thoughts and prayers are the best we can do.
ellawatts @shellyblake Not picking a fight here! Praying for you, too!!!
betty.lost.cause I read the entire thing is a publicity stunt. It’s STAGED, everyone. Wake up! Stop believing everything you read! Charlie and Eva are attention whores.
ellawatts @betty.lost.cause Please don’t spread rumors…
betty.lost.cause @ellawatts Praying for me too?
shannagirl @betty.lost.cause For real? Oh, man, that’s low…
sandradee32 We love you Charlie and Eva! We miss you! #thelongwayback #comeback #evaexplores
zoefit07 Why are they reporting her name? Isn’t Eva a minor? I thought there was a law about that or something…
betty.lost.cause @zoefit See? Publicity stunt.
marinscott @zoefit07 They have to report the names and publish pictures of missing minors. Duh. How else would people know who to look for?
zoefit07 @marinscott Eva’s young and pretty and white. ‘Nuf said.
marinscott @zoefit07 Is she? I think she looks Latina. Maybe Middle Eastern? At least partly…
betty.lost.cause @marinscott She’s clearly Jewish.
tristan.speaks I love them so much. Their account was like my whole life for a while. #livingvicariously If Eva is really missing, that’s so so so sad.
marinscott Is there something we can do? I mean, to raise awareness or something?
marinscott Never mind. Just saw it on the news—and I’m on the East Coast. The whole world is about to know.
CHAPTER 17
CHARLIE
MONDAY
Charlie wakes at dawn in the cavernous quiet of an empty house and stares at the ceiling of her lakeside bedroom. It’s not lost on her that the water-stained walls of the Landing jail could have been the first thing she saw this morning, and she feels a twinge of gratitude that she’s in her own bed. She’s also thankful for seven hours of drug-induced sleep, and the fact that Agent Turner promised he’d meet her at eight. His reluctant, almost grudging agreement to let her help is the only reason she took the prescription and allowed herself to rest in the first place.
“I know my daughter,” Charlie had said the night before—after Ms. Alvarez left the temporary command center. Eva’s note had upended everything. Gone for a few days, but I’ll be back early next week. That tiny, one-line PS changed the entire investigation, and coupled with Eva’s essays and her effervescent gushing about her new boyfriend, it was enough to shift Charlie from the prime suspect in a suspicious missing person case to a victim herself. The pieces were starting to fit, but none of it squared with Charlie. “Something’s not right here.”
“Face it,” Detective James sighed, putting his fists on his hips, “Eva’s a runaway. She took off with her lover. It’s a common occurrence, Ms. Sutton.”
“She wouldn’t do this. I’m sure of it.” Charlie sounded insistent, but she wasn’t so convinced anymore. “Okay, maybe she would. Maybe she did. But something is still wrong.”
“Maybe you need to rethink this disappearance.” Detective James began sweeping the papers strewn across the folding table into a neat pile. Thwacking the stack against the tabletop, he straightened the edges and then tucked them all back into the file folder. “The note says: ‘Back soon.’ Maybe she just doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”
His words had stung. Many of the essays had stung. Charlie wanted nothing more than to have a heart-to-heart with Eva so she could determine where to draw the line between Eva’s true feelings and typical teenage angst. But those conversations were for another day. First they had to find her. “Fine,” Charlie said, swallowing all her quick retorts. “Why would she turn off location services on her phone?”
“You’re very persistent.”
Charlie stifled the urge to scream. “Yes, you’re right. She hid things from me. But something is still wrong. I know Eva—I know she’s in trouble. What about the life raft? You said someone slashed it with a knife. Why?”
“Seems like you don’t know your daughter very well, Ms. Sutton,” he said, ignoring her questions.
Charlie felt something in her chest ignite. “Are you a father, Detective James? Have you ever parented a teenager through the chaos of hormones or helped them navigate the gap between childhood and being a full-fledged grown-up? There’s no road map, no instruction manual. We are all capable of doing something so completely unexpected and out of character that the people closest to us would never believe it. So if you’re expecting my seventeen-year-old to act rationally in a situation that we clearly can’t begin to fully understand, I think you’re being completely irrational.”
“Charlie, let me assure you, this case is far from closed.” Agent Turner had jumped into the fray, ignoring a sideways glance from Detective James. “Eva is a minor and we don’t know who she’s with. Boyfriend or not, there are suspicious details surrounding her disappearance.”
“Even if she’s a runaway?” Charlie was still sizzling from her tirade, but Agent Turner’s kind nod helped.
“Thank you,” she said at the exact moment Detective James headed for the door and called over his shoulder, “I’m going to let you take the lead on this one, Turner.”
When the detective had stalked out of the room, Charlie turned to the FBI agent. “Can he do that? Can he just abandon this case because he doesn’t like how it’s turning out?”
“He’s not abandoning the case. He’s just frustrated,” Agent Turner said. “Cases like this are hard on everyone. No one wants Eva to be hurt, or worse. But this,” he held up the binder, “definitely changes things. Some of the urgency is gone.”
“Not for me.”
“Which is just one of the reasons we’re not done here.” Agent Turner grabbed the file folder and set it on top of the binder already in his arms. “I’ll canvas tomorrow. Talk to this Lennon girl—the server at Mugs. And I’ll chat up some of her teachers and friends. Someone knows something about this secret boyfriend.”
“I’m going with you.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“But I know my daughter.” Charlie didn’t want to beg, but she would if she had to. “Maybe I’ll be able to see things that you can’t. Spot inconsistencies or something out of the ordinary.”
Agent Turner crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Maybe people will open up to me more willingly than they would to you. I mean…” Charlie indicated herself, her worn baseball cap and faded sweater, and then arched an eyebrow at his smart navy blazer and paisley tie. They were a contradiction in terms. “We’re talking about Landing, Minnesota, here. Know your audience and all that.”
Agent Turner considered her for a long moment. “You can ride along,” he said eventually. “Time is of the essence, and if you can open doors that I can’t, so be it. But if I catch so much as a whiff of trouble, I’ll drop you on the sidewalk so fast your head will spin. This is a fact-finding mission. Period.”
Now, Charlie all but jumps out of bed, eager to see Agent Turner and get started. For the first time since Eva went missing, she feels like she has a purpose, and she showers quickly, dresses casually, and brews a pot of coffee as if her life depends on it. Scout scampers from room to room, catching her energy, and barking occasionally when Charlie drops her hairbrush or trips over her own two feet.
“We’re going to find her,” Charlie tells him as she scoops kibble into his bowl. “Our girl is going to come home.”
By the time there’s a knock on the door, Charlie is well-caffeinated and practically bubbling with ideas.
“I did some checking,” she says, opening the door with one of Sophie’s leftover blueberry biscuits in her hand. “Lennon graduated from Landing High a couple of years ago and works at Mugs while studying accounting online.”
“Hello to you too.” Agent Turner steps into the house and follows Eva to the kitchen, pausing to give Scout a scratch behind the ears.
“So if we head to the high school now,” Charlie continues, checking her watch, “we can talk to some kids before the tardy bell at eight thirty. That feels less intimidating. Nonthreatening is the way to go—don’t you think?”
“Maybe, but—”
“And after that, around midmorning or so, we could head to Mugs and interview Lennon. She’ll probably have a break around then—”
“Charlotte.” Agent Turner puts up a hand to stop her, but his tone has already done the trick. “Slow down. How do you know these things about Lennon? Were you up all night?”
“First of all, no.” Remembering her manners, Charlie grabs the plate of biscuits from the counter and holds it out to Agent Turner. He takes one. “I slept nearly seven hours last night. As for how I know those things, haven’t you ever Facebook-stalked someone, Agent Turner? And don’t forget that Eva works at Mugs, too. I know the general schedule.”
“Please, Charlotte. Call me Jude.”
“Then I’m Charlie.”
Jude takes a bite out of his biscuit and studies her. After a moment, he says: “Facebook? I thought you were more of an Instagram girl.”
“Facebook has more personal information. Where you live, who your relatives are, all the places you’ve gone to school… Lennon’s profile was wide open.”
Jude tilts his head toward her in a gesture of respect. “Have you ever considered a job as a research analyst?”
Charlie takes a bite of her biscuit and asks, around a full mouth, “Are you flirting with me?”
“No.” Jude’s laugh is quick and resonant. “Absolutely not. I’m just thankful that the tenor of this investigation has changed. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that today feels very different than yesterday. And I think if she’s out there, we’re going to find her.”
* * *
After their impromptu breakfast, Charlie walks the path through the trees to Sophie’s house and Jude picks her up there. While a cop is no longer stationed on her driveway, the flock of reporters at the end of the lane remains, and Jude takes the long way into town, bypassing the news vans.
Charlie holds last year’s Landing High yearbook (a part of the welcome package when Eva enrolled in December) on her lap with the names and pictures of certain kids circled in permanent marker. She was indiscriminate in casting her net, marking anyone who she could even vaguely remember Eva mentioning. A boy named Luke in her science class. A girl called James. She flagged Piper, and then found a picture of her surrounded by other girls, so she looked them up and circled all of them, too.
But in the end, Jude disregards all of Charlie’s half-baked suggestions and careful “research.” Instead, he drives straight to Mugs.
“We know Lennon has information,” he explains. “So that’s where we begin. Always go with the sure thing, Charlie.”
At quarter after eight on a Monday morning, Mugs is nearly empty. The before-work-and-school crowd has dissipated, and the Bible studies, mom groups, and casual coffee dates won’t start to cluster around tables until closer to ten. In the entryway, Jude leans in to tell Charlie to let him take the lead, but his gentle warning is unnecessary. The memory of the bustling cafe and the newscaster trying to thrust a microphone in her face less than twenty-four hours ago is more than enough to silence Charlie. She follows him into the dining room, just happy to observe.
“Lennon Ahoka?” Jude walks right up to a strikingly pretty native girl with a waterfall of dark hair. She’s clearing a table but glances up as he approaches.
The corner of Charlie’s mouth lifts as she realizes that Agent Turner did his homework, too. Of course he did.
“Yes?” The girl’s face is friendly and open, but her smile wavers a little when she sees who called her name. Jude is wearing dark jeans and a cream-colored sweater today, but he still exudes a casual authority. There’s absolutely no mistaking that he’s law enforcement, or the fact that there’s a gun holster low on his hips. “How can I help you?”
“Agent Jude Turner of the FBI,” he says, offering his hand with a disarming, close-lipped smile that somehow conveys both friendliness and gravitas. “I’m sure you’ve heard about Evangeline Sutton’s disappearance.”
Lennon’s eyes cloud over, but it’s nothing more complicated than grief. “Is she okay?”
“We sure hope so,” Jude says with a nod. “This is Eva’s mom, Charlotte.”
“Charlie,” she says, stepping forward and shaking Lennon’s hand. It’s trembling just a little. “Thanks for being a friend to Eva. I hear you’re rather close.”
“Work friends.” Lennon lifts one shoulder. “We’re kind of a weird breed. Besties when we’re on the clock, but I didn’t ever see her outside of work. I mean, we meant to, it just never happened.”
Charlie can’t help but love this kind, sincere girl. She’s warmed by Lennon’s obvious affection for her daughter, and wishes that Eva would have pursued friendship with her instead of a romantic entanglement with a stranger.
“It’s come to our attention that Eva has a boyfriend,” Agent Turner jumps right in. “Someone that Charlie didn’t know about.”
“Peter told me you’d probably reach out. But there’s not much I can tell you.” Lennon shoots Charlie an apologetic look. “I only saw him once. And Eva didn’t really talk about him. I mean, not directly. Just casual things like, ‘I’m seeing him tonight.’ You know how it is.”
Charlie doesn’t really know how it is, but she gives Lennon a reassuring half smile all the same. “Do you know his name?”
“Just his first: Zach.”
“What does he look like?”
“Well,” Lennon plays with her apron strings, twisting one around her index finger and then letting it unfurl. “It was a long time ago. But he was cute enough. Blond, kinda tall. Bit of a Prince Charming type—generic-looking. He seemed older to me.”
“How much older?” Jude scribbles notes on a pad that he’s pulled from his pocket.
“Twenties?”
Charlie’s heart stops and then thuds painfully back to life. Her seventeen-year-old was seeing a twentysomething? Eva—sweet, inexperienced Evangeline Rose—was dating an older man? “Early twenties or late?” Charlie almost chokes on the question.
But Lennon just shrugs. “I don’t know. But he’s definitely out of high school. He has a job. Something to do with computers or the internet or something.”
“This is good, Lennon. You’re doing great.” Jude exudes a professional warmth that clearly puts Lennon at ease. “Did you catch the name of the company he works for? Even the description of a logo would help.”
“He was just here that once. He sat in a corner booth and typed on a computer. If there was a logo on his bag or something, I didn’t see it. I wasn’t really paying attention.”
