Shocks of dark hair framed his chiseled face, which had the deep sun patina of someone who rarely spent time indoors. He wore jeans and white T-shirt beneath a black leather jacket. A round medallion hung in the center of his chest, attached to a black leather strap. His boots too were black leather with thick soles, like a biker might wear.

“A friend,” he said. “Father Andrew directed me to you. He sends his regards.”

“Father Andrew? Andrew DeVoss?”

He slowly dipped his head. “The same.”

Her attention was now fully fixed. Over the years, she’d developed the ability to size people up quickly. Intuit their motivations. Read them not just by what they said, but by how they were. A person’s presence always spoke more than their words.

But she’d never encountered the kind of presence carried by this man. And looking at him, she knew he was a friend. And one somehow connected to the man who knew of Alice’s whitewashed past.

She stood and crossed the office, extending her hand.

“I’m Special Agent Strauss.”

“Yes, I know,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. He took her hand, firmly but tenderly, and then laid his left hand on top. “Olivia. It’s a beautiful name.”

His eyes were deep blue flecked with gray, and a strange sense of calm washed through Olivia as she held his gaze.

“And your name is?”

“Call me Stephen.”

She withdrew her hand.

“Stephen . . .”

“Just Stephen. Names are like costumes, don’t you think? We just make them up. Yours, for instance, symbolizes the olive branch of peace. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“And yet it doesn’t describe how you are right now, does it?”

He said it with a soothing tone that seemed to reach into her. So he too was a good judge of a person’s disposition. Of course she wasn’t at peace, but who was these days?

She was more interested in what he could tell her about the case.

“Please, have a seat.” She directed him toward a chair in front of her desk and sat down.

“Thank you.”

He slid into the chair, withdrew a toothpick from his pocket and slowly twirled it between his thumb and forefinger.

“I’ve come to help you, Olivia. And maybe you can help me as well.”

“Fair enough. What do you know?”

“That no one is ever who they pretend to be. That nothing is as it first appears. Which is what Alice learned in the monastery before she lost her memory.”

He was speaking in riddles. But oddly, she wasn’t put off by him.

“I don’t see how that helps. I have a missing girl on my hands and the trail has gone cold. Please tell me that you can help me find her.”

“If Alice could be found right now, I would have already found her. I haven’t, which means neither will you. Not until she’s ready to be found.”

“And with that attitude, she may never be found alive.”

“Did I say alive?”

Olivia stared at him, caught off guard.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning I don’t know where or when we will find Alice, nor that she will be alive if or when we do. I do know that she’s not what she seems to any who’ve met her. Her eyes were opened once, they will be opened again if she’s willing.”

“It’s only been six days. She’s a thirteen-year-old child who was abducted, not an adult who’s fully responsible.” She said it, thinking she should be protesting his apparent nonchalance. But he was the kind who didn’t offer offense and she wasn’t taking any. “She knows nothing about fatalism and frankly, I reject the idea that we are powerless to help her.”

“I didn’t say we were powerless,” he said, tilting his head slightly down. “Locating her would be a great help to me. My reason for finding her is surely as motivated as yours. But Alice’s journey is her own, not yours or mine. Do your best to find her, but don’t let your search keep you in misery.”

His words cut into her soul like a hot knife. She wasn’t sure why.

“Is there anything you can tell me about her that will help? What about the other children?”

“I can tell you that you shouldn’t worry about them. And that you shouldn’t endanger them by speaking to anyone about them. I can also tell you that Alice was almost surely taken by her mother.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because I do. No one else would have a reason to take her. Unfortunately, her mother seems to have vanished under the auspices of death. So you see, until Alice makes a way to be found, she won’t be. If and when she does make a way to be found, we must be there to find her. Therefore, be diligent, but try not to worry.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. The words coming out of Stephen’s mouth seemed like nonsense, little more than the philosophical platitudes of a man who’d spent too much time alone. And yet there was something about his voice, the way he carried himself and spoke, that resonated deeply with her. Spoke to her. Made her want to believe what he was saying, however naïve it seemed.

“You came here to tell me not to worry?”

“Yes. And to assure you that if I do find her, you will be the first to know.” He paused, eyes fixed on hers. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “But mostly, I came with a message for you. And for the memories you have of Michelle.”

His words stopped her cold.

Stephen placed a large hand on the desk, palm flat on the wood surface, ringed fingers spread wide.

“I see your pain, Olivia. That feeling that you’re cut off from life, and that you’ll never find your way back to the happiness you knew before you lost your way.”

Tears began pooling in her eyes as he continued speaking in a low voice. She wanted to stand up, back away, but she couldn’t move. A hurricane of emotion, terrible and wild, began to swirl deep within her.

“I’ve come to tell you that it’s not your fault,” he said. “Michelle’s beyond suffering, and yet you suffer, trapped in this hell of your own making. Set yourself free, Olivia. Free to love your daughter as she is, not as you wish she could be. In this you will find more peace than you can possibly imagine.”

She wanted to scream. Wanted to tell him that he didn’t know what he was talking about. That he had no right to say what he was saying. He had no right. He had no idea what she’d suffered, what pain she lived with, how alone she was.

But his words moved through her like a warm breath, assuring her of their truth. How did he know? How could he know?

She closed her eyes and swallowed, aware that her pulse was pounding and that her breathing had quickened.

“You are loved, Olivia.” His voice came like honey, softer now. “More than you can possibly comprehend. Forgive yourself for anything you thought you might have done or not done. Forgive the world. Let it all go. Be free now and always.”

Olivia felt her emotion rise, unchecked. Felt her control begin to slip as the world blurred behind the hot tears that flowed freely from her eyes.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said.

The room was still, and the air thick, but with those words, a strange, comforting peace settled over her. Time seemed to stretch in the silence.

Then she heard the soft click of the door closing.

When she opened her eyes . . . he was gone. Only a black card inscribed with the word Outlaw remained where he’d been seated. But he’d left far more, hadn’t he?

Michelle was forever gone.

Alice was now lost.

And yet Olivia couldn’t help but to think that she had just found a missing part of herself.

She lowered her head to the desk, let out a long, trembling breath, and began to sob.

I’m so sorry, Alice.

EPISODE TWO

9

Day Seven

THE SOUNDS that came from the swamp outside chilled my bones as I lay in bed past midnight that first night in my new home, thinking I should leave then, while they were all asleep.