Itâs dark now. Iâve been driving for over two hours without a clue as to where to go next. I canât go back home. I canât go to Charlieâs house. I donât know anyone else, so the only thing I can do is drive.
I have eight missed calls. Two are from Landon. One from Janette.
The rest are from my father.
I also have eight voicemails, none of which Iâve listened to yet. I donât want to worry about any of them right now. None of them have any clue whatâs really going on, and no one would believe me if I told them. I donât blame them. I keep repeating the entire day in my head, and it seems too ridiculous for me to even believeâand Iâm the one living it.
Itâs all too ridiculous, but way too real.
I pull over at a gas station to fill up my car. Iâm not even sure if Iâve eaten anything today, but I feel light-headed, so I grab a bag of chips and a bottle of water while inside the store.
The entire time I fill my tank with gas, I wonder about Charlie.
When Iâm back on the road, Iâm still wondering about Charlie.
I wonder if Charlieâs eaten anything.
I wonder if sheâs alone.
I wonder if sheâs being taken care of.
I wonder how Iâm possibly supposed to find her when she could be anywhere in the entire world right now. All Iâm doing is driving in circles, slowing every time I pass a girl walking on a sidewalk. I donât know where to look. I donât know where to go. I donât know how to be the guy who saves her.
I wonder what people do when they have no place to go and no place to be.
I wonder if this is what itâs like to be crazy. Certifiably insane. I feel as though I have absolutely zero control over my own mind.
And if Iâm not the one in controlâ¦who is?
My phone rings again. I look at the caller ID and see that itâs Landon. I donât know why I pick it up to answer it. Maybe Iâm just tired of being inside my own head and not getting any answers. I pull over to the side of the road to talk to him.
âHello?â
âPlease tell me what the hell is going on.â
âCan anyone hear you?â
âNo,â he says. âThe game just ended. Dad is talking to the police. Everyoneâs worried about you, Silas.â
I donât respond. I feel bad that theyâre worried, but even worse that no one seems to be worried about Charlie.
âHave they found Charlie yet?â
I can hear people shouting in the background. It sounds like he called me the second the game ended. âTheyâre looking,â he says.
But thereâs something else in his voice. Something unspoken.
âWhat is it, Landon?â
He sighs again. âSilasâ¦theyâre looking for you too. They thinkâ¦â His voice is heavy with worry. âThey think you know where she is.â
I close my eyes. I knew this would happen. I wipe my palms down my jeans. âI donât know where she is.â
Several seconds pass before Landon speaks again. âJanette went to the police. She said she thought you were acting strange, so when she found Charlieâs things in a backpack inside your gym locker, she turned them in to the police. You had her wallet, Silas. And her phone.â
âFinding Charlieâs things in my possession is hardly proof that Iâm responsible for her disappearance. Itâs proof that Iâm her boyfriend.â
âCome home,â he says. âTell them you have nothing to hide. Answer their questions. If you cooperate, theyâll have no reason to accuse you.â
Ha. If only answering their questions was that easy.
âDo you think I have something to do with her disappearance?â
âDo you?â he asks immediately.
âNo.â
âThen no,â he says. âI donât think you have anything to do with it. Where are you?â
âI donât know.â
I hear a muffled noise, like heâs covering the phone with his hand. I can hear voices in the background.
âDid you get hold of him?â a man asks.
âStill trying, Dad,â Landon says.
More muttering.
âYou there, Silas?â he asks.
âYeah. I have a question,â I say. âHave you ever heard of a place called Jamais Jamais?â
Silence. I wait for him to respond, but he doesnât.
âLandon? Have you heard of it?â
Another heavy sigh. âItâs Charlieâs old house, Silas. What the hell is wrong with you? Youâre on drugs, arenât you? Jesus Christ, Silas. What the hell did you take? Is that what happened to Charlie? Is that whyâ¦â
I hang up the phone while heâs still in the middle of spouting off questions. I search Brett Wynwoodâs home address on the Internet. It takes me a while, but two addresses pop up in the results. One I remember, because I was just there earlier today. Itâs where Charlie lives now.
The other is one I donât recognize.
Itâs the address to Jamais Jamais.
THE HOUSE SITS ON SIX ACRES, OVERLOOKING LAKE BORGNE. IT WAS BUILT IN 1860, EXACTLY ONE YEAR BEFORE THE CIVIL WAR BEGAN. THE HOUSE WAS ORIGINALLY NAMED âLA TERRE RENCONTRE LâEAU,â WHICH MEANS âLAND MEETS WATER.â
IT WAS USED AS A HOSPITAL DURING THE WAR, HOUSING WOUNDED CONFEDERATE SOLDIERS. YEARS AFTER THE WAR, THE HOUSE WAS PURCHASED BY A BANKER, FRANK WYNWOOD, IN 1880. THE HOME REMAINED IN THE FAMILY, PASSED DOWN THREE GENERATIONS, ULTIMATELY LANDING IN THE HANDS OF THEN THIRTY-YEAR-OLD BRETT WYNWOOD IN 1998.
BRETT WYNWOOD AND HIS FAMILY OCCUPIED THE HOME UNTIL 2005, WHEN HURRICANE KATRINA CAUSED EXTENSIVE DAMAGE TO THE PROPERTY. THE FAMILY WAS FORCED TO ABANDON THE HOME, AND IT SAT UNTOUCHED FOR SEVERAL YEARS BEFORE RENOVATIONS BEGAN. THE ENTIRE HOUSE WAS GUTTED AND REBUILT, WITH ONLY PORTIONS OF THE ORIGINAL OUTER WALLS AND ROOF SALVAGED.
IN 2011, THE WYNWOOD FAMILY MOVED BACK INTO THEIR HOME. DURING THE UNVEILING, BRETT WYNWOOD ANNOUNCED THE HOME HAD BEEN GIVEN A NEW NAME: âJAMAIS JAMAIS.â
WHEN ASKED WHY HE CHOSE THE FRENCH TRANSLATION OF NEVER NEVER, HE SAYS HIS DAUGHTER, FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD CHARLIZE WYNWOOD, ACTUALLY DECIDED ON THE NAME. âSHE SAYS ITâS AN HOMAGE TO FAMILY HISTORY. NEVER FORGET THOSE WHO PAVED THE WAY BEFORE YOU. NEVER STOP TRYING TO BETTER THE WORLD FOR THOSE WHO WILL INHABIT IT AFTER YOU.â
THE WYNWOOD FAMILY OCCUPIED THE HOME UNTIL 2013, WHEN IT WENT INTO FORECLOSURE FOLLOWING AN INVESTIGATION INTO WYNWOOD-NASH FINANCIAL GROUP. THE HOME WAS SOLD IN AUCTION IN LATE 2013 TO AN ANONYMOUS BIDDER.
I add the page to my favorites in my phone and make a note of the article. I found it after I pulled up to the propertyâright up to the locked gate.
The height of the gate is impressive, as if itâs letting visitors know that the people beyond this gate are mightier than the people who are not.
I wonder if thatâs how Charlieâs father felt living here. I wonder how mighty he felt when someone else took ownership of the property thatâs been in his family for generations.
The property is located at the end of an isolated road, as if the road belongs to the gate, too. After attempting to find a way around or through the gate, I conclude that there isnât one. Itâs dark now, so I could be missing a path or an alternate entrance. Iâm not even sure why I want past the gate, but I canât help but feel like the pictures of this property are clues.
Considering Iâm wanted for questioning, itâs probably best if I donât drive around any more than I have to tonight, so I decide to stay here until morning. I turn off my car. If Iâm going to be worth anything tomorrow, I need to try and get at least a few hours of sleep.
I lean my seat back, close my eyes and wonder if Iâm going to dream tonight. I donât even know what I would dream about. I canât dream if I donât sleep, and I have a feeling falling asleep tonight is going to be impossible.
My eyes flick back open with that thought.
The video.
In one of my letters, I mentioned falling asleep to a video of Charlie sleeping. I search my phone until I find it. I press play and wait to hear Charlieâs voice for the first time.