Seven years ago
Reverend Tremain pulled the car over to the side of the road at the entrance to a wooded campground. The child in the passenger seat stared out of the window. Deliberately ignoring him he couldn't say. He'd been a minister for many years and had never met a child who unnerved him the way his wife's niece did. Nevertheless, he had something to say to her. He cleared his throat, then began. "Hailey, I wanted to drive you to your camping trip because I though it was about time we had a little talk." The little girl continued to stare out of the passenger window. There were other little girls in the parking lot and she watched them. Oddly, she didn't lower the window to talk to anyone, and there didn't seem to be any noise permeating the closed car. None of the little girls seemed to acknowledge Hailey or the car at all. The Reverend, however, was more concerned with getting through to her. He frowned. "Are you listening to me?"
"Yes." She glanced in his direction with impatience, then looked out again.
"You do understand that your parents are gone."
"Of course I understand. They were in an accident and lost at sea." Hailey obviously didn't want to talk about that but at the same time it didn't seem to upset her. She said it as though it was just a fact. She had never cried, not even during the memorial service he'd had for them. Her seeming indifference chilled him. She was watching the wooden arch above the campground entrance.
"So now you live with your aunt and me."
"Yes I know."
"Then you need to stop fantasizing that your father is coming back for you. Your father is dead, Hailey. He does not live beneath the basement stairs in our house."
Now she looked at him, and he was again unnerved. It was easier to talk to the back of her head, her waist-long braids, then it was to look into that face. She was a pretty child, small for her age. Her features were Asian, but she had striking pale green eyes.
"I never said Daddy lived under the stairs," she corrected impatiently. "I said that there was a Portal under the stairs."
"Whatever." He didn't know what that meant, but the way she said "Portal" made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. He could almost hear the capital P. He waved his hands as though to push away the discomfort. "You told Jimmy that you were talking to your father, and you know that can't be true. There is storage under the stairs, Hailey. No more and no less." Reverend Tremain scowled at her. "You need to stop dwelling in your dream world. It isn't good for you and it upsets Jimmy. He's very concerned about you." He knew that Jimmy and Hailey did not get along, but they were going to have to learn.
"Well, you think about that while you're here. Looks like everyone is lining up at the entrance. Do you have everything?"
"Yes."
"Okay, you have a good time and don't forget to call if you need a ride tomorrow."
"All right." Hailey grabbed her backpack and sleeping bag. "Thank you for the ride, Uncle Will." She scrambled out of the car, closed the door, and ran over to the group of Girl Scouts at the park entrance. Reverend Tremain pulled away. He didn't look back. If he had, he might have seen Hailey and the group of Girl Scouts step through the archway, waver like a mirage, and vanish completely as though they were never there at all. He might also have seen flocks of birds rising in panic from the treetops as the sound of a heavy door slamming closed echoed though the forest.
He had seen the black Cadillac, but didn't note it as anything different or odd. He had dropped off a child; it only made sense that others would be doing the same. The occupants of the Cadillac had seen the little girls vanish. The driver smiled to himself and made a note of the Reverend's license plate. There would be time for the Reverend later and they would have much to discuss.
Sunday evening found Reverend Tremain in the modest closet-sized room his present congregation called his office. He looked at the telephone again. He had passed annoyed quite some time ago and was now distinctly uncomfortable. Hailey should have called or been home by now. Knowing how flighty girls her age could be, she probably got caught up playing with some of her Girl Scout friends and lost track of time. He wished he had a list of the other parents of girls in the troop. He couldn't even think of the names of the girls.
"There's a reason for that," said a voice by the door. Tremain looked up. In the doorway was a gray, nondescript sort of man. No distinct facial features, clothing or hair color. He wore dark glasses. Tremain knew that the dark glasses were probably the only thing he'd remember about him. "There's a reason for that, too," the man said, his gaze at Tremain hard. Even though Tremain couldn't see the man's eyes, he knew the look was piercing.
"A reason for what?" Tremain asked. "I didn't say anything."
"You didn't need to. There was no Girl Scout troop. There was never a campout."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yes you do." Tremain could feel the stranger's gaze. It was sharp as a blade. "There was no Girl Scout troop and no campout."
"Of course there was," Tremain protested. "I dropped her off and saw them!"
"No you didn't. Yes, you think you did, but you didn't. The girl is safe and fine. My employers, though, are interested in where she went. That's where you come in."
"If she didn't go camping in that park, then I don't know where she went."
"That's not important. We know. And we can keep others from noticing that she's gone. We would like your cooperation."
"If I don't choose to give it to you?"
"That would not be a very wise choice. If word gets out that there's a missing ten-year-old girl and you were the last person to see her ... well, I think that you can figure out what would happen to your life after that." Tremain could. He could imagine it all too well.
"What do you want?" he asked, resigned.
"It's very simple." The stranger came into his office and closed the door, then sat down in one of the visitor chairs.
"Are you going to take off your sunglasses?"
"My eyes are very sensitive. That's immaterial. All we need from you is that you keep your eyes open. Particularly keep your eyes on a few people I will tell you about. They were friends of your niece's family, and we suspect that they might know how to get access for us."
"Access to what"
The gray man stood again with a sigh.
"Come with me, please," he said. Against his better judgment, Tremain stood and followed the gray man to a black Cadillac idling out front.