Rating: ★★★★☆ Tags: Mystery Detective, General, Fiction

AMY ELLIOTT DUNNE
FIVE DAYS GONE
Y
ou may call me Ozark Amy. I am ensconced in the Hide-
A-Way Cabins (has ever there been a more apt name?),
and I sit quietly, watching all the levers and latches I put in
place do their work.
I have shed myself of Nick, and yet I think about him
more than ever. Last night at 10:04 p.m. my disposable cell
phone rang. (That’s right, Nick, you’re not the only one who
knows the old ‘secret cell phone’ trick.) It was the alarm
company. I didn’t answer, of course, but now I know Nick
has made it as far as his dad’s house. Clue 3. I changed
the code two weeks before I disappeared and listed my
secret cell as the first number to call. I can picture Nick, my
clue in hand, entering his dad’s dusty, stale house, fumbling
with the alarm code … then the time runs out. Beep beep
beeeep! His cell is listed as the backup if I can’t be
reached (and I obviously can’t).
So he tripped the alarm, and he talked to someone at
the alarm company, and so he’s on record as being in his
dad’s house after my disappearance. Which is good for the
plan. It’s not foolproof, but it doesn’t have to be foolproof.
I’ve already left enough for the police to make a case
against Nick: the staged scene, the mopped-up blood, the
credit-card bills. All these will be found by even the most

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incompetent police departments. Noelle will spill my
pregnancy news very soon (if she hasn’t already). It is
enough, especially once the police discover Able Andie
(able to suck cock on command). So all these extras,
they’re just bonus fuck-yous. Amusing booby traps. I love
that I am a woman with booby traps.
Ellen Abbott
is part of my plan too. The biggest cable
crime-news show in the country. I adore Ellen Abbott, I love
how protective and maternal she gets about all the missing
women on her show, and how rabid-dog vicious she is
once she seizes on a suspect, usually the husband. She is
America’s voice of female righteousness. Which is why I’d
really like her to take on my story. The Public must turn
against Nick. It’s as much a part of his punishment as
prison, for darling Nicky – who spends so much time
worrying about people liking him – to know he is universally
hated. And I need Ellen to keep me apprised of the
investigation. Have the police found my diary yet? Do they
know about Andie? Have they discovered the bumped-up
life insurance? This is the hardest part: waiting for stupid
people to figure things out.
I flip on the TV in my little room once an hour, eager to
see if Ellen has picked up my story. She has to, I can’t see
how she could resist. I am pretty, Nick is pretty, and I have
the 
Amazing Amy
hook. Just before noon, she flares up,
promising a special report. I stay tuned, glaring at the TV:
Hurry up, Ellen. Or: Hurry up, 
Ellen
. We have that in
common: We are both people and entities. Amy and 
Amy
,
Ellen and 
Ellen
.
Tampon commercial, detergent commercial, maxipad
commercial, Windex commercial. You’d think all women do

---

is clean and bleed.
And finally! There I am! My debut!
I know from the second Ellen shows up, glowering like
Elvis, that this is going to be good. A few gorgeous photos
of me, a still shot of Nick with his insane 
love me!
grin from
the first press conference. News: There has been a fruitless
multi-site search for ‘the beautiful young woman with
everything going for her.’ News: Nick fucked himself
already. Taking candid photos with a townie during a
search for me. This is clearly what hooked Ellen, because
she is