Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
According to the news, the FBI swept in and took everything over from Redhaven and Raleigh PD, and they’re still in the process of analyzing the DNA evidence to see if they can match them to any missing girls in the last twenty years.
It won’t be easy. All they have left are half-digested bone fragments thanks to the grisly way the victims disappeared.
But I can’t help wondering...
What if some of that DNA evidence holds a clue?
What if it points to my brother?
God. Am I ready for that?
Real closure, however awful?
Celeste and Ethan disappeared the same night.
The rumors were the worst part.
People saying Ethan did something terrible. That he killed her, kidnapped her—salacious small-town gossip that left me cringing every time I heard a whisper, or felt wary eyes on me any time I went out in public.
The other kids shunned me, snickering under their breath.
Murder girl.
Like I was guilty by association when my brother wasn’t guilty of anything at all.
I know he wasn’t.
And now I have a little proof.
Ethan never killed Celeste Graves and we know who did.
Which makes me wonder if the Arrendells killed him.
I’ve always wondered from the little things Grant let slip after the whole thing happened. He’d never been willing to tell me much, always trying to protect me.
But he had told me that Lucas Graves thought Montero Arrendell killed his sister, that Celeste was involved with the rich patriarch somehow. I guess that was supposed to comfort me, back then.
All it did was make me more desperate than ever to escape this bottomless pit of a town.
I stare down inside my empty suitcase.
I packed light because—I don’t even know.
Maybe I’m still treating this like a social visit. Not like my life in Miami is over.
No job, my lease on my apartment is almost up, and I can barely afford the rent anyway.
I have a bad feeling I’ll only be going back to Florida to pack up my things and ship them to Redhaven.
Fine.
That’s fine, I tell myself.
My mother needs me in her darkest hour and that’s more important than anything else.
Sorry, Grant. Guess I broke my promise to stay away forever, you huge jerkwad.
When I pull myself up from dreary thoughts I can’t believe how late it is.
I totally lost track of time unpacking, but my growling stomach reminds me it’s past midnight and I haven’t eaten since I grabbed a burrito from the taco truck next to Mort’s while he looked over my car and told me he wasn’t letting me spend a penny on repairs when it was the rental company’s problem and he’d bill them.
A little hometown hospitality, I guess.
But all I could hear were the whispers any time someone passed by.
Hey, isn’t that...?
Oh my God, it is. Hasn’t she been gone for ten years?
After the—you know. Do you think that’s why she’s back?
Oh, didn’t you hear? Her poor mother...
I grind my teeth as I head downstairs to raid the kitchen.
Yeah, yeah. My poor mother.
Who doesn’t want your pity any more than I do.
I throw together a quick turkey and provolone sandwich from what I can scavenge from the fridge, then wander into the living room to see what’s on the late-night channels. But as I settle in and reach for the remote—
Creak.
The noise is way too loud when it’s just me in the house. The silence of an empty space cracking with the sound of the front porch boards straining.
I tense, swallow, and fight back goose bumps as I crane my head toward the door.
Creak. Creak. Creak.
Deliberate, measured footsteps on the porch. Almost stealthy.
Oh, God.
I hold my breath.
A long shadow stretches under the thin gap beneath the door, the one my mother has been promising to fix with weather stripping for over a decade but never has.
My heart pounds wildly.
Silently, I squirm around until I can reach my phone buried in a cushion, struggling not to make a sound.
The steps stop, but that shadow stays, dark and ominous.
With shaking fingers, I unlock the phone and tap in 9-1, then pause, my thumb perched over the last number.
Creak.
And the shadow retreats, the light sound of those footsteps moving away.
What the actual hell? Did they see me somehow?
Was it a burglar who changed their mind?
I wait another minute, straining to listen for—well, anything.
Someone rattling at the windows, testing the back door locks, but there’s nothing.
With my mouth cotton dry, I slide off the couch and creep to the door. Stretching up on my toes, I peer out the peephole with my phone clutched to my chest.
Still nothing.
No one there.
Not even when I open the door, letting in the moonlight and the chilly night scent.
I stand on the porch, staring across the front yard.
It’s like no one was ever here.
There’s just calm starlight falling over the gabled roofs of Redhaven, bathing the sleepy town in the illusion of peace.