The Creeping

“Is there anything to indicate that Stella might be targeted next?” Dad asks.

There’s a long pause and then, “We’re linking the current crimes with Jeanie’s disappearance—at least for the time being. Bev Talcott is Jeanie’s mother, and Jane Doe looks extremely similar to Jeanie. There’s also the issue of timing. Both murders took place either on or very near the anniversary of Jeanie vanishing. Given that Stella likely saw Jeanie’s abductor and he or she is at work in Savage once more, Stella could be in danger. We’re taking Kent Talcott into custody for questioning, and once my team can gather more forensic evidence, we’ll know if we can keep him.” Shane recounts the details as neatly ordered clues that are bound to add up to one rational and inevitable conclusion: Jeanie’s father.

I keep my eyes closed, wishing this nightmare away. Why is this happening? Why now? Why at all? Haven’t Dad and I been through enough? “I’m in danger because I’m a witness to something that I have no memory of,” I say.

“Possibly, yes,” Shane says.

I look at Shane. “But other than blathering on about hunting monsters, I don’t know anything.”

“Pumpkin.” Dad leans forward. “What are you talking about?” He is confused, of course; he didn’t know I was aware of what I told the cops that day.

Shane’s eyes flick from my dad to me. I worry that I’ll get Shane in trouble, so I add, “I’ve known for a few years. Zoey heard it from someone a while back and told me.” Shane flinches ever so slightly at the lie, but he doesn’t correct me.

“I see.” Dad nods gravely. “I wish you had told me you knew.”

I’m impatient now. “Why would I have? You kept it from me. You lied.”

“Stella”—he reaches for my hand, but I yank it away—“I apologize for that, but your mother thought that it would disturb you too much.”

I sniff and stand from the recliner. “Disturb me too much? You’ve got to be freaking kidding me. She wasn’t too worried about that when she left us. My whole life is disturbing.” I look to Shane. “I was a living, breathing echo that afternoon, repeating only one thing over and over again. If it was Mr. Talcott who took Jeanie, why wouldn’t I just say so? I could obviously speak. I would have recognized him, right?”

“Stella.” Shane motions for me to take a seat. I stay standing. “I wish I could tell you that we understand why you chose those words. We don’t. I don’t.” He sounds defeated by the admission, but I’m already too incensed to care.

“So am I on lockdown or something? Are you going to have cops watch me?”

“That’s something we need to discuss,” Shane says calmly. “I’m keeping a patrol car out in front to watch the house, and until we’ve straightened this out, I think it’s best if you stay at home or in public places with your friends. When you do go out, it’s important you tell your dad exactly where and for how long.” I cross my arms against my chest and raise an eyebrow. He knows as well as I do how preoccupied Dad is with work. He nods, receiving my silent message loud and clear. “How about you tell the officers stationed out in front when you leave?”

I roll my eyes. So I’m going to be babysat by cops now? “Whatever,” I mutter, turning and leaving the living room. Shane and Dad both call my name, but I hurry up the stairs and lock my bedroom door behind me. Immature, I know, but at least I resist the urge to slam it. I can’t think near the two of them.

Mr. Talcott’s been taken into custody. Well, of course he has. He’s the perfect suspect, except for the fact that there’s not a snow cone’s chance in hell he did it. The whole “hunting monsters” gibberish aside, I spent years looking into his face, and the only thing there is a grief so big it has its own heartbeat. Besides, I seriously can’t imagine Mr. Talcott with his gigantic calloused hands and his jean jacket knowing how to French braid hair. Huh. How many men know how to braid, let alone French braid? Even I fumble through it. I’ve never considered that Jeanie’s abductor could be a woman. I can’t really picture a woman taking Jeanie. Men are the ones who commit crimes like that. Male sickos.