The cushions had slipped sideways in the night and Nora was indeed teetering on the edge. She must have had a rough night. She hoped that she didn’t call out in her sleep or do something equally embarrassing.
“Hi,” she said, running her hands through her short hair. No doubt she was a walking disaster. Mussed and wrinkled, bleary-eyed and in desperate need of a shower, a toothbrush, a fresh start. At least Donovan hadn’t come back to the house. But, then again, neither had Tiffany. “Have you been up long?”
“Nah. Fifteen minutes or so. I grabbed my bag and cleaned up by the pump outside.” Ethan smiled crookedly at her and Nora realized that he looked exhausted. He clearly hadn’t slept a wink all night long. But his teeth were white and he smelled of peppermint and soap. Irish Spring, if her nose could be trusted.
“I’m a wreck,” she said, standing up. She was a little unsteady, but Ethan didn’t reach to right her. Instead, he handed over her backpack.
“Take your time,” he said.
The water was icy, but the morning was already warm. Nora scrubbed her teeth first, brushing away the film of the night and the fear that had turned her tongue sour. Then she began to wash her face, but, thinking better of it, dunked her whole head under the stream of well water. Short hair, don’t care. She finger-picked it out and shook her head. It would settle into a tousled, beachy style that would fit in perfectly in Key Lake. Not that it mattered.
While Nora changed her clothes in the bedroom, Ethan straightened out the house and erased the signs of Tiffany’s presence. Donovan had already seen the evidence (or maybe he had witnessed the transformation?), but it seemed imperative that they destroy any trace of what Tiffany had done. Her hair and the box of dye went into an old grocery bag that Ethan stuck in the trunk of his car. Then they tried to lock the damaged front door of the shack and replaced the key in the hiding spot.
“Where to?” Ethan said, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Why are you doing this?” Nora asked suddenly. She was surprised by her own boldness but compelled by the guilt that she felt. It hurt to see Ethan like this. To know that she was the one who had etched lines across his usually smooth, carefree forehead. “Seriously. I don’t know why you’re here.”
But rather than trying to defend himself, to offer up some trite, made-for-the-movies answer, Ethan just gave her a small smile. Something about him softened. Fell away. For just a moment he looked younger than he was. And scared, too. “You need me,” he said simply.
It was true. It was so true Nora didn’t know what to say. She swallowed hard. “You need to eat,” she finally offered. “Cinnamon rolls? Coffee?”
“Sure.”
“I’d like everything to-go. I don’t really want to bump into anyone I know today.”
“Small-town life, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“I’ll pop in. You can wait in the car. Just give me directions.”
The clock in Ethan’s car read 8:07. Nora was sure the people she wanted to talk to would be up by now, but it was Saturday morning. Estes Law Offices would be closed for the day, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t look up Roger Estes’s number in the white pages and knock on his front door. Thankfully Pine Hills was always open. They could start there.
Ethan picked up a pair of giant cinnamon rolls and two cups of coffee in paper cups from Luverne’s, then followed Nora’s instructions to one of the lesser-known beaches along the south side of Key Lake. Redrock Bay, with its long expanse of sifted sand, was a favorite among locals and vacationers, and there was the Key Lake public beach along the west side that attracted families with younger kids because of the playground equipment, shallow waters, and gradual drop-off. But Pocket Beach was exactly that: a little pocket of land hidden by weeping birches. The beach itself was shaped like a diamond and too stony to make sunbathing an option. They would be alone, Nora felt sure of that.
She was right. The slip of rocky sand was deserted. A stiff summer wind stirred up chop on the water that spread out blue and foamy from the small headland. There were boulders along the south edge of the secluded beach, and Nora headed there, coffee in one hand as she shielded her eyes from the glare of the morning sun with the other.
“Key Lake’s best-kept secret,” she told Ethan as she settled cross-legged on one of the wide rocks. “Nobody ever comes here.”
Nora expected him to at least try to chatter back and pepper her with questions or comment on the unexpected beauty of the alcove in the trees. His personality mandated it. But when Nora turned to face him, she found that Ethan was holding something out for her—and it wasn’t the bag of cinnamon rolls.
“I found this on the bulletin board at Luverne’s.”
“What is it?” she asked without reaching for it.
“Just take it.” Ethan took a step forward, the set of his jaw uncharacteristically grave, and pushed the paper toward her. Nora had no choice but to accept it.
How could a sheet of white printer paper be ominous? Even terrifying? But as Nora unfolded the page her heart shuddered and stopped, if only for a moment.
It was a picture of Everlee.
The photo had been snapped a year or so ago, her head tilted to the side, her eyes wide and reflecting twin points of light. She was smiling, but it was a closemouthed, hesitant smile, as if someone had instructed her to do so and she’d obeyed. Good girl.
Nora had never seen the picture before.
And she was so intent on studying the curve of her cheek, the way Everlee’s long blond hair fell past her shoulders and beyond the frame of the photo, that she almost missed the text beneath the portrait.
Missing Child
If you have any information, please call the number below.
LIZ
BY THE TIME KENT AND MACY wandered over, Liz was nearly done cleaning up the evidence of her party. She woke at dawn, weary and confused but certain that she had been wrong about some things. Okay, a lot of things. Obviously, the hangover that never materialized, but about bigger matters, too. More significant ones.
The party had been her attempt to ease the symptoms of a disease that Liz was starting to believe she could cure. Why pop a Tylenol if she had access to the antidote? Even if it was a tough pill to swallow. But things had spiraled out of control and she had been left raw and aching, convinced of her own complicity in sins of the past. Sins of omission—ones she once hoped she would never have to atone for.
Now what? At the very least she had set the ball rolling. Bennet Van Eps knew that she had a granddaughter. A granddaughter who was shrouded in mystery and secreted away like something filthy, obscene. It made Liz sick to her stomach. But, damn it, something would happen. Liz had spent too much time letting other people chart the course of her life to settle for the back seat now.