Page 26 of The Lake of Lost Girls

At the feel of his lips, I forgot about Phoebe. I forgot about everything. My mind became a blank page and I was lost infeeling.

It was incredible.

His hands made their way to the back of my head as his fingers tangled in my hair. Our kiss deepened, and I knew that if I were Daisy, or any other wild and free freshman girl, I would have invited him up to my room. I would let whatever this was to progress to a place neither of us could stop.

But I wasn’t Daisy.

And as much as I was forcing a new Jess into existence, the old Jess was still there, whispering judgments in my ear.

So, I let myself get lost in the kiss for only a few moments longer, not letting it go any further.

“You should go,” I told him after finally pulling away.

“Are you sure?” His eyes were slightly unfocused, his nose brushing mine. I nodded and he stepped back.

“Sleep tight,” he said playfully, running his thumb along my bottom lip. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

I laughed. “You’re such a dork.”

“I may be a dork, but you’re going to see me again,” he predicted, walking backward down the path, away from my dorm.

He was right, I would see him again. Iwantedto see him again.

But it was only after he left that I realized he never told me his name.

CHAPTER6

LINDSEY

Present day

WORK THAT DAYwas steady. Marnie and Pete had to, once again, escort a group of people off the premises who were making true crime videos. One woman claimed to be a “big time” YouTuber who wanted to interview people about my sister’s case. She had also demanded to speak to me. I was happy to tell her that if she wasn’t a paying guest she was trespassing.

The fervor around my sister’s case was reaching a fevered pitch. I couldn’t escape it. Coverage and speculation were everywhere. Every time I logged on to one of my social media accounts, I saw people I knew talking about it. I even saw shared posts from the other missing girls’ families. Seeing those was particularly distressing.

People were picking through every unsolved disappearance and murder that had occurred in North Carolina in the nineties. Some of the more interesting theories revolved around an as-yet-unnamed serial killer—someone who had operated in the area and had avoided apprehension. Considering how ineffectual the police had been, it wasn’t the most outlandish possibility out there.

The problem was that in the excitement to hash out every detail, everyone seemed to forget that there were real peopleimpacted by it. These people were far removed from the events they were obsessing over. For them, it was like an online game of Clue. It was easy to lose sight of the humanity of those involved in an effort to feel part of a community that seemed, on the surface, to have good intentions—to solve a decades-old unsolved case.

I was even having to field emails to the Monarch’s business account. Thankfully, the owners were understanding, but it made me incredibly uncomfortable.

On top of that, I worried that all of the attention would muddy the waters and complicate things for the investigators.

So, I was thankful to be buried in paperwork. It felt good to get lost in it and forget about the case, and everything surrounding it, for a few hours.

However, I was brought back to reality later that night when Ryan came to the front desk and I realized how quickly the day had gone.

Marnie appeared in the doorway, knocking lightly, her smile, as always, apologetic.

“There’s a guest out front for you. It’s the man from last week. He says he’ll wait for you outside.” Marnie looked as if she wanted to ask me a dozen questions, but she was far too polite to do so.

I looked at the clock on my desk—it was six thirty on the dot. I found it endearing that he was right on time.

I closed my laptop and stood up, grabbing my purse and phone as I headed to the door. I took my jacket off the hook and slipped it on.

Outside I found Ryan waiting. Once he caught sight of me, his smile widened appreciatively. “You look amazing,” he commented. I was only wearing my work clothes—a black pencil skirt, white blouse, and flats—but he made me feel like a beauty queen. Receiving his compliments was starting to become addictive.

“Thanks,” I said a little awkwardly.

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