Firewatch Ch 6

“Let’s see,” Mr. Siegel says, brushing past them to get into the bedroom. “They shouldn’t be too hard to find. We’re lucky. Somewhere in high school, her room got a lot less messy. She had them in a shoebox, I think.”

“Would you know if she’d packed a bag to go somewhere?” Flores asks as Mr. Siegel searches.

“Her luggage is in the basement,” Mrs. Siegel says. “It’s still there.”

“What about that purple bag? The duffel?” Mr. Siegel asks as he gets on the floor to look under the bed. “Here we go.” He pulls out an old VCR with a cord wrapped around it. “She bought this on eBay. But I don’t see the tapes.”

Wilde has the closet open. “No shoeboxes here. No tapes. Could she have taken them with her?”

“We don’t know where the purple bag is,” Mrs. Siegel tells Flores.

“I guess she could’ve taken them.” Mr. Siegel gets to his feet. “If she even still had them. She might’ve tossed them. They were junk, after all.”

F-FILES

The sky is gray when they climb into the car. Wilde chews her lip, resting her hands on the wheel of the rental. She doesn’t start the engine.

Flores is annoyed. “Tell me what you’re thinking. VHS tapes? Old computers? That means something to you, doesn’t it?”

“You believe in the supernatural, Flores?”

“I was raised catholic.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t know, Wilde. I’m a psychiatrist. I know a lot about behavior. Sometimes it’s hard not to see religion as a tool to control people.”

“Still not an answer.”

“Look, the pieces are here. I wouldn’t tell my parents if I was running off with my internet friends to mutilate cattle. Would you?”

Wilde smiles. “Nope. I wouldn’t. But I’d call home and tell them I was volunteering or finding myself or something.”

“You think we still have a kidnapping?”

“Can’t rule it out.”

“Who called it in? Who spotted them in Oregon?” Flores asks. “The case isn’t getting any traction because there’s no drama. No body. How did someone there know to watch for this girl?”

Wilde sighs. “I was wondering when you’d ask.” She twists and gets her backpack out of the back, then hands Flores a printout.

“What am I looking at here?” Flores asks. It’s a poor-quality photo of a phone, but it’s distorted bizarrely. The screen is unreadable.

“This.” Wilde holds up her FBI-issued phone. “I got a text that she was there.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The text is gone from my phone. There’s no record of it except the photo I took.”

“How did you know to take the photo?”

“F-Files are unexplained because the evidence isn’t easy to come by. I try to document as much as I can.”

Flores is skeptical. “Someone contacted you. Personally. Do you have a connection to this family?”

“Absolutely none.”

“Then why?”

“I assume because they know about my work. And there’s something in Barney, Oregon that they want me to see.”

“Still nothing from local law enforcement there?”

“Flores, I never got through to the Barney Police Department. I had to call the county, and they said they’d look into it.”

“And?”

“And, I haven’t heard anything. I think it’s time for us to get over there.”