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FIVE

Hollbrook Residence
Willow, Connecticut
Friday, October 6, 2006
9:33 PM

David Hollbrook didn't know which was more of a battle: his years spent in Vietnam or the time it took to get his daughter, Natalie, to bed. While the former contained dodging bullets and racing through a tropical jungle, the latter entailed having to chase down an excitable nine-year-old who seemed to have more hiding spots inside the house than the Vietcong had in the marshes of Vinh Lộc.

As an injured war veteran, a man who had been shot in battle, David had a difficult time tracking down Natalie inside their three-thousand-square-foot Colonial home—which had been bought back when Natalie's mother, Natasha, was still alive and the two had been planning on more kids to fill the space. But with an injured leg that had to be fused together at the ankle after a shotgun slug had hit him just below the shin, David often had to hobble after his daughter with the cane he had to use to walk—and even though his daughter knew of his handicap, she didn't make it any easier on him.

Running up the stairs, down the stairs, into the den, into the spare bedroom, around the kitchen, into the backyard, and finally to one of her favorite alcoves, Natalie would usually lodge herself somewhere David had a hard time reaching, even on a good day. Sometimes it was the crook of a tall tree, or a cabinet hidden somewhere in the wall leading to the attic, or, most likely, inside the doghouse. While the Hollbrooks hadn't had a pet in quite some time, David had kept it there after both Natasha and Scooter, their aged German Sheppard, had passed away—though his intentions had been to keep the memory alive rather than allow Natalie somewhere else to burrow.

However, Natalie always knew to come when David called in the tone he used to let her know that if she wasn't upstairs in less than five minutes she would be grounded, with her more often than not racing inside from her cubby and jumping in bed dirtier than before she had taken a bath. Usually choosing to pick his battles wisely, David would always forgo the argument that Natalie had to get in the tub again, instead knowing that he could coax her into doing so while she was half-asleep in the morning. By then, at least David would have gotten some rest and gained enough energy to deal with his over-enthusiastic daughter.

But as night came on the horizon at the end of the week, with no school the next two days, David often allowed Natalie half an hour extra to tinker outside. As dusked turned to dark, Natalie would still continue to play in the backyard with the other children in the neighborhood until David came out to break them up. In that time, while the kids horsed around and screamed their lungs out, David would sit comfortably in the Laz-E-Boy with a book placed firmly in hand, trying to remember where he had last left off as he listened to the loud laughing taking place outside.

Unfortunately, tonight seemed different than the weekends before, almost as though every child and parent who had heard the news, which was just about everyone, had decided to keep their doors and windows locked to hold their kids safely inside. Though David, one of the only ex-soldiers who lived in Willow, knew that hiding out did nothing but prolong the inevitable, especially if the enemy was coming straight for the person in question, he couldn't help but oblige the unsaid curfew that had fallen over the town—and it seemed as though Natalie was just as eager to remain indoors. Coloring quietly at the table, Natalie stared intently at the outlines in front of her while David took up residence in his chair, relaxing his cane against the end table situated between where he sat and the couch facing the television. The furniture had been Natasha's choosing, a style that had been in when she had died of breast cancer back in 2001, but now seemed dated with its white leather against the sunburst orange walls. Though David had thought it as an eyesore as soon as he saw it the first time, he couldn't bear to part with it now, especially since Natasha had been so excited to show him what she had learned from HGTV about decorating in contrasts and differences.

Sitting back in his recliner while the clock ticked loudly, David picked up his book and bid his time until half-past-nine chimed from the mantle. When the hour finally came, and just as he was about to engross himself in the finer details of Major Roger Bellman getting captured by German enemies in 1943 Tunisia in the novel he had been trying to finish reading over the past month, David kicked down the recliner with his good leg and placed the book aside, getting to his feet unsteadily as he grasped for his cane. By the time he reached Natalie's coloring station, at which she had been working relentlessly for the past few hours, David was more than ready to go to bed as soon as he took his nightly medication.

Thankfully, Natalie didn't seem inclined to argue with him, instead dropping the crayon that had been in her grasp the moment her father reached her and pushing aside her work. Letting it be in case she wanted to pick it up again tomorrow, David turned away from the table she had been sitting at and held out a hand. Grabbing it with her small fingers, Natalie wrapped her digits around David's thumb as they headed up the stairs, a quiet filling the house that seemed eerie. Usually at this time of night, Natalie would be attempting to convince him to let her stay up another half an hour, especially on weekends. According to her, there was "good stuff" on television after nine, things that she wanted to watch when they were on instead of having to fast-forward though the tape David often made of the kids shows that played during the late hours. Though, for purely selfish reasons, he preferred that his daughter watch Zoey 101 and Are You Afraid of the Dark? while he was there to discretion it and to keep her occupied during the day, David also knew that nine-thirty was somewhat early for a nine-year-old to go to bed, especially one with so much energy.

However, tonight Natalie seemed intent on keeping quiet and following orders, heading straight to her room and climbing under the covers without a debate. Watching her, David couldn't help but wonder if the story of Molly Walter had scared Natalie more than she was willing to share. As soon as he had heard what had happened, and as soon as he found out that Molly had been in his daughter's third grade class, David had sat Natalie down to talk about it, not getting much of a response in return to his questions. While the school had kept quiet and continued as normal the day following the disappearance, though most people knew that if a child wasn't found in the first forty-eight hours it was a lost cause, West Hartford Elementary had released the students at noon rather than three, figuring it would give the parents time to discuss the events with the kids who were more verbally curious.

When he had picked her up from school, Natalie hadn't said much of anything aside from the fact that she wanted to go to the Connecticut Golf Land & Games in Vernon. Taking it as an opportunity to distract her enough to get her to talk, David had driven them to the family fun park and the two had stayed for a few hours. Unfortunately, after two rounds of golf and a few rounds of bumper cars, Natalie had yet to share anything that was on her mind, only focusing on the fun of the games and jumping around excitedly while they waited in line for their turn. Giving up on it altogether, David had turned his thoughts elsewhere, figuring Natalie would tell him if something was wrong when it came down to it.

By the time they got back to Willow, the fun of miniature golf had worn off, only to be replaced with quiet while Natalie finished the homework she had been given to do over the weekend, then turned to coloring. Thinking nothing of it aside from the fact that his daughter had worn herself out at Golf Land, David was eager to get her to bed, equally tired from having to chase her down all across a small amusement park. Glad that she was obeying rather than defying him, David tucked his daughter in and turned out the lights. Standing in the doorway for a moment, David watched as Natalie almost immediately fell asleep, turning onto her side and tucking herself into a ball under the covers.

"Goodnight, Nat," David whispered as he shut the door behind him.

Heading down the stairs, David made his rounds about the house, locking the doors and windows and shutting off any lights that might have been left on. Coming to the living room he had just abandoned, David reached for the lamp beside his easy chair before turning to flip off the one positioned over Natalie's coloring pages. As he neared her work station, David bunched his jaw as he looked down at the prints he had been certain his daughter had been filling in with crayon, only to see that she had been drawing her own pictures. Picking them up, David frowned deeply at the child-like sketch of a man made entirely of wavering blue standing next to a bed. Wondering if this was the story that was going around school about what had happened to Molly Walter, David held the picture in his free hand as he hobbled up the stairs, intent on asking Natalie about it before she drifted too far into dreamland.

Reaching the landing, David nearly slipped outside of Natalie's door, the hardwood floor suddenly slick with something. Taking a step back, David flipped on the hall light closest to him to see that a puddle of water was slowly streaming out of his daughter's room, looking as though she had spilled something underneath the crack in the frame. Deciding to get something to wipe it up before the floor could warp, David headed for the cabinet nearest him and grabbed the thickest towel he could find, using his good leg and his cane to sop up the water and hanging the towel over the banister of the stairs.

Unfortunately, before he could turn around, David felt the water around his shoes again, this time in a heavier stream than before. Furrowing his brow, he watched as the flow washed past his feet and toward the railing, dripping down over the side and falling to the first floor of the house. Dropping the towel at the edge to keep any more from going over, David limped toward the door, curious as to what was going on. It was possible, though highly unlikely, that Natalie had decided to take a bath before going to bed, hopping out from under the covers to crank up the shower, but that would have made enough noise to carry throughout the house, nor overflowed as quickly as the trickle had appeared. Wondering if there was a leak somewhere, David looked up at the ceiling, but his attention was abruptly torn away.

Suddenly, the sound of screaming came from behind Natalie's door, sending David into high alert as he twisted the knob. Discovering that the handle was stuck, not budging even the slightest, David rammed his shoulder into the wood as Natalie cried for help again, sounding strained as though something was holding her by the throat. Running as fast as he could with a bum leg, David threw his whole weight into the thick chestnut, getting him nothing but a hurt shoulder. Trying again and again, nothing happened, causing David's heart to hammer loudly in his chest while Natalie shrieked once more.

Heading for the room next to hers, and knowing that the back balcony separated the two rooms by only a few inches of space, David slipped out the sliding glass doors just as another scream rented the air. Sensing the urgency, and remembering hearing similar sounds of terror in Vietnam, though none of them hitting as close to home as this, David did the best he could to jump to the terrace of Natalie's bedroom, landing shakily and nearly falling to the floor. Glancing back at his forgone cane sitting against the railing of the other platform, David held steadily to the wall beside the window as he looked in, narrowing his eyes to see through the black as he tried to find where his daughter could have gone.

By now, the crying had stopped, leaving an eerie stillness behind. David's heart remained pounding in his chest as he tried to keep a cool head, searching the area for signs of struggle or where whoever was clearly in their house had gone. Deciding that it was safe enough to risk slipping into the bedroom, especially if Natalie was safely hidden somewhere under the bed as he hoped she was, David cracked open the window and shrugged his way in, falling flat on his face the moment he got inside. As soon as his cheek hit the dark wood under him, David noticed that the ground was soaking wet, as though a pipe had burst and had flooded only the area beneath the sill. Getting up and wiping his face with his sleeve, David began to panic again, noticing that the room was more scattered than he had initially noticed. The bed was just as sopped, with the comforters pulled roughly aside and thrown onto the other end of the bed. Blood from a cut sat bright red against the white footboard, while one of her socks rested damp on the floor near the edge of the mattress.

"Natalie? Nat?" David asked, hobbling over to the en suite bathroom door. "Natty?"

Swallowing hard, David felt himself begin to hyperventilate as he stood still, grasping the wall for support as he looked around. If it wasn't for his damn leg, he would have been able to save her sooner, he could have been able to scale the balcony without making noise or being noticed, and would have been able to sneak up on her attacker. But he had been sloppy because he was injured, and now she was gone. Panicking in a way that would have gotten him reprimanded at boot camp back in 1971, David reached for Natalie's pink-and-yellow telephone and dialed the police.