Free Disappearance at Devil's Rock by Paul Tremblay Page B

up the pages. “This—this looks like it’s, um, from a diary, or something. I didn’t even know he had a diary. Didn’t see any in the milk crate. He makes fun of my diary, you know, says it’s such a girl thing to do.” Kate talks fast, spewing out words until she runs out of breath.
    Janice says, “So you haven’t seen these pages?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œYou’re sure you haven’t seen these before, Kate?” Janice asks in that quiet I’m-on-your-side-but tone that drives and has always driven Elizabeth absolutely bonkers
    â€œWhat? Yes. I’m sure. Why do you keep asking me? I haven’t seen these, Nana. I haven’t.” Kate’s voice rises in pitch, turning into a persecuted whine. She always gets like this when she’s caught in a lie. But what if she isn’t lying? Maybe Kate is simply flustered and upset by reading what Tommy wrote. How could she not be? While she believes Kate, or wants to believe Kate, Elizabeth doesn’t mind that Janice is the one stepping up to ask from where the pages came. She doesn’t want to take part in this interrogation, even though Elizabeth knows that Janice arguing with and openly not trusting Kate could permanently tarnish Kate’s near-blind love and adoration of her grandmother. Add it to the terrible growing list of everything happening to her family that can’t be fixed or taken back.
    Janice says, “Okay, okay. Did you take one of his notebooks out of his room last night, and carry it out here—”
    â€œNo! No, I didn’t take anything out of his room or do anything like that. I swear!” Kate volleys back and forth between looking at Janice and Elizabeth and the pages.
    Janice throws up her hands and says, “I don’t understand where the pages came from then.”
    Kate: “Well, it wasn’t me. Don’t blame me.”
    Janice: “No one is blaming you, sweetie. Did you, or you, Elizabeth, take a book—”
    Kate: “I didn’t do anything!”
    Elizabeth says, “Mom,” but stops there, not sure of what to say or how to proceed or how to stop any of this.
    Janice lowers her volume and softens her tone and pitch. “Okay, take it easy. Let’s not get upset. I know. I’m just asking. I’m not saying you or your mom took one of Tommy’s notebooks, okay? Or didanything on purpose. But how about any book or magazine or . . . something? Could’ve come from your room or the bookshelves or anywhere in the house, and maybe Tommy hid the pages inside and they, I don’t know, got loose and fell out without you knowing they were there.”
    Kate gets up and stomps out of the kitchen and runs down the hall.
    â€œKate, I’m sorry. Please, come back. Kate?” Janice looks at Elizabeth and holds out her hands, palms up. “Do something?”
    Elizabeth is still leaning against the counter and she shrugs. They both wait to hear Kate’s bedroom door slam shut. But that doesn’t happen. Janice releases a series of sighs and readjusts the pages and coffee cup on the table.
    A few moments later Kate stomps down the hallway and into the kitchen, and she throws a plastic sandwich bag on the table that lands with a hard clunk.
    She says, “I didn’t see or take or do anything with those pages, all right? I looked at a couple of his sketchbooks and then I found these weird coins on his bureau.”
    Neither Janice nor Elizabeth makes a move toward the bag.
    Elizabeth says, “I believe you, Kate. I do, really.”
    Janice, for the first time since she arrived at the house and hugged and held her inconsolable daughter on the front stoop, starts to cry. Her reading glasses are still on and she sticks her hands under them to cover her eyes. The little tremor that was in her hands earlier now spreads through her body, most notably to her head, which shakes as though it’s impossible to