Finding Hannah (2 page)

I sat in silence and watched the chaos around me as police swarmed our house searching for evidence. Teams were sent into the woods. Mom was sobbing and Dad was still holding Amy while talking to his boss and longtime friend Police Chief Delgado.

More flashing lights announced additional officers arriving. People continued to ask questions, but I couldn’t hear myself answer them. I couldn’t look at them. A bloodhound led another team of officers into the woods.

Everything slowed and I shut down, as if I were an empty house with the porch light on to make you think someone was home. Hours passed. I didn’t even notice the EMT who cleaned my cuts until he finished. The world blurred into an incomprehensible daydream gone horribly wrong. People kept asking me questions, but I couldn’t speak. All my senses receded into the background to make room for a helplessness that closed in around my neck and tried to choke the life out of me.

Chapter 2

We lived in the dead center of New Hampshire, a few miles from the nearest town, which meant my house was surrounded by one huge endless forest. If Hannah was in the middle of it without food or shelter, we had to find her fast.

The bloodhound brought in to sniff Hannah’s comforter had taken police down the same path I had run, all the way to the trail. From there the dog had run for about a mile and then lost the scent.

At dawn, Dad and I joined a crowd of volunteers consisting of family, locals, and law enforcement at a nearby park. The gray sky covered everything in a light mist and we could see our breath. Everyone looked cold, but I was so numb I didn’t even notice.

I hadn’t slept since Amy woke me up and the nightmare began, and I hadn’t spoken to anyone since I stopped answering questions last night. It wasn’t a conscious choice not to speak. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Any attempt to speak was smothered by the guilt of having slept through the worst moments in my family’s history. It was as if the man who took Hannah had stolen my voice as well.

I knew most of the police officers standing with us in the crowd because Dad served as a sergeant on the force. My Aunt Jackie and Uncle Harold were there with Shawn, my cousin, who was back from college for the summer. Father Whitmore, from our church, had also come.

I spotted my best friend, Wiz, who said “Hey.” All I could do was nod back at him. He seemed to understand.

Hannah’s best friend, Alyssa, came over to me and gave me a hug. She wiped away tears and looked like she was trying to find the right words to say, but then she put her hand over her mouth and walked away. Several of my sister’s friends put their arms around Alyssa. They walked away and joined a large crowd of my sister’s classmates who had come to help. Blake Weldon even came. I didn’t talk to any of them and they didn’t try to talk to me.

A news crew from Concord had made the trip and extended its van’s antenna high into the air as the camera crew got ready. An officer distributed granola bars and water bottles to the volunteers. Chief Delgado handed out flyers that made me want to cry. They had a description of Hannah’s sweatpants and the yellow swim-team shirt I had last seen her wearing, along with all of my sister’s statistics: age, eye color, skin color, hair color, height, and weight. There was no mention of her tattoo. In the middle of the page was a picture of Hannah smiling, just like she had the last time I saw her. The rough description of the kidnapper, provided by Amy, matched the description of what I figured to be millions of people: white male, in his thirties or forties, average height with broad shoulders and light blond hair. He’d been wearing jeans and a dark hooded sweatshirt and was armed with a shiny handgun.

“We’ll break into four teams,” Chief Delgado said. “Two teams will go south from the highway, one on each side of the trail. The other two teams will go north.”

“Come on, Son.” Dad guided me to our starting point along the highway near our house.

We reached our entry point and walked through the forest, keeping the person on each side of us within view. I forded small streams and walked through mud and marsh. My feet were cold and wet, but I didn’t care. Occasionally, we came across a home or an abandoned building. For the most part, it was just a huge empty forest.

“Hannah!” someone shouted.

Every time I heard my sister’s name, I listened for the scream I’d heard while standing in the middle of the empty highway. All I got was silence. A state highway patrol helicopter buzzed over the volunteers about once an hour.

We had sandwiches for lunch, then something warm for supper, but I wasn’t hungry. The helplessness had taken my appetite.

We searched until sundown, and I was too tired to put up a fight when Dad told me we were leaving. It wasn’t fair that I was going home and Hannah was still out there.

My mom’s desperation showed when we walked in the door. Dad shook his head and Mom started crying. My aunts had offered to watch Amy so my mom could search, but she refused, saying Amy needed her and she wanted to be home if Hannah returned.

I retreated downstairs but couldn’t shower because I felt guilty doing anything Hannah couldn’t do. I climbed into bed and felt guilty about that too. I became aware of the cold inside me, which refused to leave. I curled into a ball under my comforter and shivered. My head felt like it had a metal band around it, a band that was slowly being tightened.

The image of Hannah laughing at the bottom of the stairs was quickly followed by her long scream. My throat swelled and tears landed on my pillow. Falling asleep had been so easy for me before Hannah was taken. I lay awake knowing the man who had taken Hannah had stolen that ability from me as well.

* * *

Dad and I joined the volunteers at 7:00 a.m. the next day at the park where, again, we divided up and continued searching. It was the same the next two days, but always in a different search area.

One evening a detective interviewed my family. He gave me a sheet of paper and told me to draft a list of names. He wanted Hannah’s former boyfriends, anyone who’d started rumors about her, or anyone who’d shown any interest in my sister at all. The detective also wanted anyone she’d mentioned who was creepy, strange, weird, aggressive, or mean. I knew he really wanted me to list anyone I thought could have taken Hannah. My list was blank the next night when he came by to pick it up.

By the end of the first week of searching, we were down to about half the number of volunteers. No one said it, but I knew they were all asking themselves if she would ever be found. By the middle of the second week, only a few dozen thought it was possible.

One of the volunteers who showed up every day was a girl my age. I’d overheard someone call her Molly. I noticed she arrived at the park on her bicycle. The sun was setting when Dad and I returned home. I saw Molly riding toward our house, and then she turned down a gravel road. I figured she couldn’t live very far away since she rode her bike. I thought it was strange because anyone who lived near me would have been in my school, and I’d never seen her before.

Every day Hannah was gone brought new pain. It showed up in my joints, behind my forehead, and in my lungs. When I looked at my face in the mirror, it was as if my eye sockets were retreating inward. I looked like someone who’d given up on sleeping and eating. Even my black hair seemed to be losing its color. The invisible metal band around my head continued to tighten, and my swollen throat made it hard to breathe. My wrists and knees creaked like rusty hinges. I felt as if all of my organs were slowly shutting down.

We’d been searching every day for two weeks when Dad and I arrived home early for what should have been Hannah’s sixteenth birthday party. My three aunts had gathered at the house to spend the day with my mom. My uncles arrived the same time we did because they’d been out searching too.

I quickly retreated to my room, but the smell of the feast made my stomach growl. I couldn’t bear it any longer. I went upstairs and found the dining room table covered with food and the house full of people. It looked like a church potluck dinner. My uncle Harold and a man I didn’t know were talking near a table with a birthday cake. They glanced at me and kept talking as I loaded up a plate with chicken and mashed potatoes.

“Where was Amy when she saw him?” the man I didn’t know asked.

“She was in bed when she heard someone outside her door and thought it was her parents coming home,” Uncle Harold said. “Her door was open just a crack and she saw the man standing in Hannah’s room holding a gun. She watched him pull Hannah out of bed. Amy said she saw his face. She didn’t recognize him.”

“The description of him is terrible.”

“I know. That’s all they could get out of her.”

“Did he see Amy?”

“She didn’t know. All she said was he held Hannah by the arm as they left.”

“How did he get in?” the man asked.

“The door was unlocked,” Uncle Harold said.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

I moved into the kitchen to get something to drink. As I opened the fridge, I could hear Aunt Jackie talking with one of our neighbors in the hallway.

“They don’t know,” Aunt Jackie said. “The man knew where Hannah slept. If it was a stranger abduction, he did his homework. I can’t imagine anyone, friend or family, who would have taken her.”

“But they’re not ruling it out?” my neighbor asked.

“No, not yet.”

“How is Amy doing?”

“Not good. She’s been sleeping in her parents’ room and hiding under her bed. Yesterday, her mom found her sleeping under Hannah’s bed. She rarely talks to anyone.”

I walked back toward the stairs down to the basement. I could feel them all look at me. I thought I heard someone whisper my name and then, “. . . asleep on the couch.” I had to get away from these people.

My cousin Shawn came down to my room. He was nineteen and had finished his freshman year at the University of Massachusetts in Boston. I had looked up to him my whole life, but now I didn’t feel like talking to him.

“I’ve always thought of you three as my little brother and sisters.” He talked about letting Hannah get behind the wheel of his car just a few months ago when he’d come home for Easter. “Never give up hope,” he said. “You ever want to come and see me in Boston, you just say the word.”

Father Whitmore also came into my room. When he realized I wasn’t going to talk, he told me a story about the senior high service project where Hannah and the group had volunteered to shovel snow on one of the coldest days last winter. While they were shoveling, Hannah approached an elderly woman who was having trouble getting her car out of her driveway. Without prompting, she gathered some help and they pushed her out.

“She has such a generous heart,” Father Whitmore said. He politely told me he would be available day or night if I wanted to talk to him.

An hour later, I was halfway up the stairs to get a glass of water when I overheard my aunts talking.

“I’m just happy they’re finally talking about getting Dylan some help,” Aunt Jessica said as they sat on the couch. “It’s been two weeks and he still hasn’t said a word.”

“They’re so overwhelmed,” Aunt Jamie said. “They’re pushing so hard to get the word out about Hannah.”

“And Amy is a mess right now,” Aunt Jessica said.

“I keep telling her it’s going to take time,” Aunt Jackie said.

“I hate seeing her like this,” Aunt Jessica said. “She’s being really hard on herself.”

“It doesn’t help that she’s home alone with Amy all day while everyone else is out searching,” Aunt Jamie said. “I feel so helpless. What can we do?”

“Just give it time,” Aunt Jackie said. “They all need it.”

All of them turned to look at me, and I retreated back to my room. I didn’t need more time. I needed my sister back.

* * *

On Monday at 6:30 a.m., I walked through our living room, which had now been taken over by stacks of “Help Find Hannah Beachley” items. There were flyers, posters, buttons, and T-shirts with Hannah’s info and picture. Mom and her sisters had ordered so much of each that they spilled into the kitchen and down the hallway.

I sat at the breakfast table just as I had for the last three weeks since Hannah had been taken. This time, however, Dad’s chair was empty.

Mom walked into the kitchen holding her purse and her car keys. “Dylan, Amy and I are heading into town. Your dad is at work. We’ll be back in a few hours.”

Her voice had developed a new tone since Hannah disappeared. It was cold and sharp and served as another reminder of how everything had changed. I still hadn’t said a word to her or anyone else since the night Hannah had been taken.

She stopped digging in her purse and looked at me in my hiking clothes.

I set my spoon down and stared at my bowl in a daze.

“You know they’ve called off the search, right?” she asked.

I didn’t look at her. Dad had told me, but I refused to believe it.

“Dylan, talk to me.” Mom spoke to me with a different tone, as if she felt sorry for me. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head telling her no, I was not okay. Until Hannah was found the answer to that question would be no. I got up and took my bowl to the sink.

Her previous tone returned. “We’ll be back soon.”

Once they were gone, I got on my bike and pedaled as fast as I could to cover the two miles to the park before our usual 7:00 a.m. start time. I arrived to find the park completely empty. No granola bars were being handed out and no news vans were parked nearby. The park was deserted. It appeared the number of people who were still interested in finding Hannah was now down to one.

I sat on a picnic table and developed my plan. The past three weeks had been handled all wrong. We had been searching the forest, which was fine, but we should have been searching homes, too. The police had rules to follow with their probable cause and their warrants, but I didn’t. The man who took Hannah wasn’t following those rules and neither would I.

I pulled out my jackknife and carved on the picnic table. I would search the forest during the day and monitor houses at night. I’d go deeper into the forest and cover more ground than the volunteer search parties. I’d stay out in the forest until I found my sister.