The dirt at my feet is tracked with hundreds of footprints, but not from any party. Big sheriff and deputy boots alongside smaller medical shoes. I wish they had scuffed the whole night from the earth, but their presence makes it even harder to forget. I inspect the nearby underbrush, keeping one eye trained on the edges of the trees. It’s hard to remember exactly where I was and when, now that it’s light. I take a closer look everywhere I see trampled plants, but the longer I search the more I understand the whole needle-in-a-haystack thing. A small silver charm on a black bracelet wouldn’t exactly stand out among the shale and soil.
I look again toward the falls, my stomach tying in knots. Even in the dark, I knew how frighteningly close I came to the edge. There’s a flat rock near the top that juts out over the pool. Gretchen and some of the more daring kids used to hang out on it, dangling their legs. I could never bring myself to join them—the height freaked me out. I creep toward it now, crouching low on the ground, sifting my fingers through moss and leaves, holding on to my last hopes.
The water thunders over the rocks beside me, sending up an icy mist. When I get to the ledge, I pause. Maybe it’s guilt, or morbid curiosity, or maybe I’m just looking for closure. I take a deep breath and lie flat, looking down into the churning pool. My stomach lurches immediately, the last moments I was here crashing back into my head. Kicking and scratching, blind in the dark, scrambling to escape, my screams drowned by the falls. But then something shifts and suddenly I see Gretchen—fighting for her life as hard as I fought for mine.
My whole body shakes.
Why would I make it out when she didn’t?
What made the difference?
I close my burning eyes, but I can’t escape the horrors of her final moments manufactured inside my head. Falling, suffocating, pinned under the icy spray. Or maybe it didn’t happen that way. If she was lucky, she would’ve blacked out when she hit the water.
There’s a hard pull on my leg and I shriek, nearly rolling off the ledge, but something holds me fast. I whip my head around to find Marcus crouched over me, his hand clamped firmly around my ankle. His eyes are wide, alarmed.
“What are you doing?” he yells.
I scoot back on my knees and he lets go, allowing me to work my way from the edge to the clearing, set away from the water’s roar. I rest my hands on my knees, my pulse hammering so hard, it’s difficult to breathe.
“Are you crazy?” he asks. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”
I brace myself against a tree and look away. “I know.”
“Then what were you doing?”
I look up into his face. “I just needed to see it.”
He looks toward the falls and exhales, his posture easing. I let go of the tree, my legs still shaky beneath me.
“It’s not pretty to think about,” he says.
I grimace, my body cold from the spray. “Why are you here?”
His eyes narrow. “Apparently I’m not allowed to text you. I had to talk to you somehow.”
“So you decided to follow me like a creeper?”
His expression turns stony and I wish I’d said something else.
“I wasn’t following you. I was on my way to the diner and saw someone was at the falls—I didn’t expect to find you, alone, dangling over the edge.”
I shift my feet, feeling stupid all over again. “I wasn’t dangling.”
“Have you never heard criminals tend to return to the scene of their crimes? If the wrong person came along, you could have shared a funeral with Gretchen.”
I shudder. He’s right, but how can I know who the wrong person might be?
“Sneaking up on people in the woods doesn’t make a great case for your innocence.”
“Hanging out here alone doesn’t do much for your life expectancy,” he snaps.
I draw back, but there’s nothing I can say to that. Coming here was stupid. I know that, but I had to do it. I don’t want to admit that if I had to run into anyone, I’m relieved it was him.
“I was looking for my bracelet,” I mutter.
“Seriously?” He scowls. “A piece of jewelry?”
“I need to find it,” I say, trying to hide the urgency in my voice. “Gretchen gave it to me, and I lost it that night.”
He looks around the clearing, and then back at me. When he does, the tension in his face has eased. “Where were you attacked? Was Gretchen with you then?”
I glance at the bridge arching over the creek and a cold flash of memory shoots through me. My feet on the planks, heading home—
“I can’t—I don’t want to talk about it.”
Marcus walks over to the little footbridge and places one boot on the boards. “It was here?”
“That’s where it started.” I press my palms against my eyelids, attempting to keep a headache from coming on. “I was alone; Gretchen—she was at home.”
“Okay. So they grabbed you how? Did you see them coming?”
I force my legs stiffly toward him. “No. I was halfway across, and then—” Cold hands on my throat, hot breath in my hair. I cringe. “They came from behind.”
“What happened after that?”
“Look, I really don’t want to—”
“The more I can understand how it went down, the more I can help, Sonia.” His voice is calm, compassionate. Almost enough to put me at ease.
“I thought I was the one helping you,” I say under my breath.
“Please. Trust me.” He looks me straight in the eyes, catching me off guard. My chest surges with heat. “What happened next? Is that when you ran?”