Page 5 of Fragments of the Past

“Oh, good.” I bob my head, looking around the room.

“I had several… losses. After losing Pearl. Maybe I was just supposed to be her mom.” Mrs. Turner rests her head on Harvey’s shoulder. Her eyes brim with tears.

I’d express sympathy, but I don’t have the least bit of remorse, and Pearl isn’t sorry either.

I see the little girl age down. She’s seven or eight now, angrily sending her fist through Mrs. Turner’s lower gut. She tries to shove Mr. Turner out of the way. She fights him like an animal, clawing and punching.

Something skitters up my thigh, and my heart begins to race. Oh, this is not good.

“I gather you’re not Pearl’s father?”

“Her dad was my business partner. He died before Pearl vanished.”

Early death. Natural causes. Well, I mean, heart attacks aren’t classified as foul play, are they?

The hatred Pearl has for Harvey Turner surges over me and I wince.

“Would you… Could you leave for a few minutes, Mr. Turner? I’m sorry.” I apologize to Mrs. Turner out of politeness. “I’m—” I shake my head and push my palms to my cheeks. “I’m feeling a little distracted. As if the puzzle pieces I have need to be rotated around.” My fingers pinch into the ASL sign for more and twist. “They’re stuck.” And where I don’t know the exact reason I’m here other than the unmistakable—Pearl isn’t among the living. “Your husband can come back later.” Hopefully, when I’m gone.

Mr. Turner exits the room. I double over with nausea, grabbing my knees. The last thing I had in my stomach was beer. I probably should have choked down the cereal.

“Would you like to sit?” Detective Ames places a palm on my back and holds me steady by the arm. “We’d like to finish this today.” There’s no inflection in his voice, but the threat is obvious.Don’t play me for a fool again.

“I’ll be okay.” I breathe deeply, trying to center myself. I doubt breaking the news will come as a shock to Mrs. Turner. “Your daughter passed away when she was young.”

Mrs. Turner inhales sharply. Her lips pinch and her chin trembles. The news isn’t anything she hasn’t already accepted. Her grief washes over me. She removes a tissue from her pocket and wipes her nose and the tears trailing down her cheeks. “Yes,” she finally responds after composing herself.

“You never got her body back.” The statement feels obvious.

Pearl’s mother shakes her head back and forth, dabbing at her red eyes.

“Can you tell us anything about the night Pearl disappeared?” Detective Ames cuts to the chase.

“She says she left on a dare,” I wince, reaching up to clutch the side of my head. My left temple feels hot and prickly, like something is pouring down my face. My vision blurs on that side. I think it’s blood.

Chapter Three

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ANSON

We haven’t been on this ridiculous ghost walk at the Turner residence for long and already I’d prefer if Rae Lee Chatham used her mouth to do something else.

Like shut the hell up.

The last thing I want is for a “psychic medium” to get this mother’s hopes up. Mrs. Turner has been through enough. She doesn’t deserve to be lied to about her daughter’s disappearance.

Why did you agree to this?I think, not for the first time.

I’d wanted to remain open-minded about Mrs. Turner’s dubious request. After all, Angeline gave me the impression she was happy with Miss Chatham’s unique services. They’d broken a case for her. At the very least, I wasn’t searching for another needle in a haystack trying to find a reputable seer who “spoke with the dead.”

Speaking with the dead. Yeah, right.

My tolerance for paranormal speculation has dipped to an all-time low. Given thatRae Leeused that sweet mouth to lead me on, I don’t believe a word out of it.

I hide a scoff for Mrs. Turner’s benefit. Victims’ families are already upset. They relive their trauma the second their eyes open in the morning. But days like today slice open old wounds. My own relationship with grief grounds me. I have no intention of making it any harder for the Turners than it already is.

Pearl Tatton disappeared from her family’s Brighton home fifteen years ago. The middle schooler was in the seventh grade, a month shy of her thirteenth birthday. The majority of the pictures her mother provided in the wake of her disappearance were of Pearl with her father, who had passed away eighteen months prior.

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