I didn't like Alice, an unpleasant child, and I couldn't tell where she'd gone. I did like Eleanor, but she disappeared as well. And then one of them came back. The 'how' and 'where' dance around with the 'who' and 'why' to leave you dizzy and confused, certain that you know but then ultimately wrong. I was held in thrall by the unfolding story, never quite believing what I read until all questions were answered and the truth revealed.
In those brief four and a half days Eleanor got to know every expression, every gesture: every little thing that made up Alice. Yet after Alice disappeared Eleanor didn't give the police any clue as to where she might be, or think of anyone she might have gone off with. Eventually, to please them Eleanor had decided to let the policemen see two of her dens, knowing Alice would not be there.