"At the end of the message, she says, ‘I don't want to go into the cornfield with you’. It also mentioned that there was another car. So, there was one person in the car with her, and then another car that had more people in it. Maybe she saw the people get out of the car and move toward the field, and that's how she knew that's where they intended to take her," I suggest.
Dean nods, and we move cautiously into the corn.
Somehow the world is even quieter, even more still when we're among the crops. The tall stalks and long leaves seem to create insulation around us that separates us from the rest of the world.
"This field is huge. How are we going to search through the entire thing?" he asks. "We don't even know how far they drove down the road before stopping."
I keep walking but then look at him.
"Yes, we do. She said she isn't good at mazes. She didn't want to go into the corn because she isn't good at mazes. She disappeared in February. There wouldn't have been corn like this out here, and there wouldn't have been a maze."
"Then why did she mention it?" Dean asks.
I'm heading back toward the car. "Because she could see where it was supposed to be. Come on."
We climb back into the car and drive up the dirt road slowly until we see a small, hand-painted sign nailed to a tree pointing to a maze down another road. I stop beside the sign, and we get back out. As I'm turning around, I see the flicker of white again. It's solid, moving the cornstalks around it as it moves. From this perspective, I can also see it's far larger than the back of a deer's tail.
Dean and I head into the corn, and I brace myself for the eerie feeling to close in around me. I don't worry about creeping through the stalks or being quiet. At this point, if someone's out here with us, there's nothing I can do to conceal our presence. There’ll be a confrontation one way or another. So I might as well beckon them toward me.
Besides, I don't have the time to be discreet.
"There's the edge of the maze," Dean says a few minutes later, pointing.
"Don't go into it," I tell him. "It's not abandoned. That maze is operational, which means no one is going to do anything that will catch the attention of all the people who will come to it in a couple of months."
Dean pauses. "Emma."
My shoulders drop, and my stomach twists into knots.
"I was wrong. She didn't just walk away. She didn't do this herself. When Lakyn left that message, she knew she wasn't walking out of this cornfield. That's why she didn't call the police. They wouldn't have gotten to her in time, anyway. She left that message for Xavier because she wanted to be found, and for the people who did it to be caught. And Xavier is the only one who knows enough to make sure that happens."
"Until now," Dean says.
I want to respond, but the words stay lodged in my throat. Instead, I turn and continue through the field, hoping for anything that will lead me to Lakyn.
We've been walking for almost ten minutes when I notice a shift in the way the corn is planted. What will become the maze is to the side of us, and its shape continues to push us toward the further diagonal of the field. As we get past it, the stalks turn into thickly planted rows that look almost like a wall. The dense stalks grab at our clothes and scrape our skin as we force our way through the rows.
Once past them, we find a sparser area of the field. It's as if we're in a different world, separated from everything we just walked through.
"This is creepy," Dean whispers. "I've never liked the whole cornfield maze thing."
He starts to say something else, but I hear a rustle and reach over to touch his arm and stop him.
"Listen." I hear it again. "Someone's here."
The white flash in the corner of my vision breaks through the stalks several yards away. It disappears into them again, but I can hear it moving and see the way the plants sway. Dean and I run after it, delving into the stalks, trying to find whoever is running from us. Suddenly, it goes quiet.
Dean and I stop.
"Where is he?" he asks. "Where did he go?"
"I don't know," I say, trying to catch my breath as I look around for the person we've been chasing.
"This isn't funny," he says. "We're out here in the middle of nowhere, it's dark as hell, and it's too hot to be running around in the damn corn."
I step over a planting mount and push aside stalks that look greener and stronger than the ones around them. My heart plummets, and revulsion rolls down my spine.
"Dean," I say.
"What?"
He's still grumbling behind me, but steps through the corn to where my feet are inches away from a metal cage sinking into damp ground.
"We found her."
Chapter Forty-Two
Detective White shakes his head, pressing a handkerchief over his mouth and nose as he walks away from the gruesome contents of the cage.
“What the hell is this?” he demands, storming up to me. “Why would somebody do something like this?”
“I don't know,” I tell him. “But that's definitely Lakyn Monroe.”
“How can you possibly tell? It's just bones and rotting flesh.”
"There isn't much of her left," I admit, "but what's there is recognizable." I walk up to the edge of the cage and look down at what remains of the corpse. "Her hair is still intact. Lakyn was known for her hair. Some of the flesh has mummified in the sun, and you can see her earrings. Pull up pictures
