Nora ignored her and ran into the scrubby backyard. No lights on in the yard. A dim light burned in the kitchen. The back door—where Jason had come to—stood open.
“Annie?” Nora called. “Jason? Jason, it’s all right. I’ve brought you your parents, sweetheart. Just come on out.” She glanced behind her; the cameraman was struggling to get his gear squared on his shoulder.
She stepped inside. A small, modest back entry, then a kitchen. The tile was worn and peeling but the room was spotless. A dinner on the plate—noodles and salad and sliced tomato, a glass of soda next to it—lay half eaten. The window by the table fronted the backyard. She must have been eating a late meal, feet tired from cleaning hotel rooms all day, when she saw him.
Nora walked quickly through the house. No sign of Annie. No sign of anyone else. No sign of a struggle.
No Jason.
Gary and Hope Kirk tore through the house, and in the still distance Nora heard the rising cry of police sirens.
“He’s not here.”
“Was he ever?” Hope Kirk screamed at her. “My God. Is this a trick?”
“She said he was here.”
“Well, she’s not and he’s not. This is just a sick prank. I can’t—I cannot keep doing this, Gary. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” Hope fell to her knees on the wooden floor. Gary Kirk knelt by his wife, put his arm over her shaking shoulders.
“We are done with you,” he said to Nora. “I mean, what was this stunt? Invented drama for the ratings? An exclamation point on the whole awful evening of revisiting our loss? Did you put this young woman up to this? Did you just need some damn footage, Nora?” His voice rose into a roar.
“No, of course not . . .” Nora’s voice trailed off. “She said he was here. She said he was.” And now she saw in the doorway Inspector Peert, with his lemon-sucking scowl. She turned back to Gary Kirk.
“We counted on you. You wouldn’t let go. You said you wouldn’t forget him. But this . . . tricking us, this is too much,” Gary hissed.
“I had nothing to do with this,” Nora said.
“Yeah, this drama just happens the night you’re filming.”
“Blame Annie Van Dorn, not me.” Nora’s voice shook, and she glanced; the cameras were rolling. Oh, Molly, damn you, she thought. Molly stared at her. “Ask Molly, she took the call.”
Peert folded his arms. “Did you hear this woman say she saw Jason?”
“I heard her say she thought it was Jason. But then Nora took the phone . . .”
“Oh, this is too much. Too much!” Nora whirled on Gary Kirk. “You listen to me. I could have helped any missing person anywhere in the world, and I helped your son. I kept this entire island looking for him, and I kept the whole U.S. of A. thinking about him and praying for him to come home safe and sound. Without me, everyone would have forgotten him, just a kid who got drunk and probably drowned in the ocean.” She stopped, slammed a hand over her mouth.
“It was never about him, was it?” Hope Kirk said in a small voice. “It was about you. Always you.”
“Molly, tell them. Tell them what Annie said!”
“I didn’t hear, Nora, you did.” Molly turned to Peert. “Annie Van Dorn did call, did say that she thought Jason was standing in her backyard. We rushed over. I heard nothing else.”
“You’re fired, you backstabbing bitch,” Nora said.
“I work for the network, not you,” Molly said in her usual calm voice.
“Find Annie Van Dorn,” Nora said to Peert. “She saw Jason, identified him at her back door. I heard her say hello to him.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing. She hung up. But find her, she’ll confirm what I said.”
“I’ll confirm what?” Annie said. She stood in the open back door, a bit breathless. She blinked at the crowd.
Nora lurched toward her, clutched her arm. “You said . . . you said Jason was here.”
Annie blinked again. “Oh. Yes. I did. I went outside to see after I called you, but there was no one there. Someone was playing a trick on me.”
A long, low moan from Hope Kirk.
“You didn’t speak with Ms. Dare?” Peert said.
“Well, she kept insisting the man must be Jason Kirk, and I got tired of hearing her say that and I hung up.” Annie’s voice was dreamy- raw, as though she’d just woken from sleep.