Page 6 of Secrets Along the Shore
“Our town has fifteen-thousand people, and Wisconsin has the fourth lowest missing persons rate in the nation. We should be averaging three missing per one-hundredthousand people.”
“I guess villains are working overtime, then. Do you think they have to pay taxes? For the people they abduct? Or can they claim them as dependents?”
A dark look washed over Detective Walker’s face mixed with a not-so-subtle expression of disbelief. “Of all people, I’d think you would have the most sensitivity to these situations.”
I met his eyes. Maybe when he looked back at mine, he could see that my attitude was all a front. It was a way to survive. Sarcasm. Cynicism. Numbness.
I didn’tdarego with him to search for Sophia Bergstrom. If I did, I risked unlocking the part of me that had stayed safely tucked away. And the worst thing was, I didn’t even know what had been interred in my subconscious, just that all sorts of unresolved and unseen secrets lurked in my psyche, buried the night he shoveled dirt over what he thought was my dead body.
That’s why I didn’t show empathy.
The Serpent had slain my emotions—at least, that’s what I believed.
Only my body, and my will to survive, had risen from that shallow grave after he’d left me to decay.
It’s why I hadn’t looked back.
It’s why I didn’t try to help the others.
It’s why, ten years later, I didn’t dare allow myself to feel. Because if I did, then the Serpent would succeed at long last. I didn’t think I could survive another moment in this world if I ever allowed myself to feel again.
CHAPTER
TWO
I kickedat a pebble and it skipped along the hardpacked shoulder of the road, bounced off a larger stone, and rolled into the ditch, disappearing in the overgrown grass. I had known the moment that Detective Walker had knocked on my door that I would end up here, helping search for Sophia Bergstrom. For all my aloof exterior and resistance to human interaction, I cared—and everyone knew it. I cared what had happened to the others. I had nightmares about the not knowing. I saw their faces every day—every day of my existence.
Detective Walker had to know that convincing me to help wasn’t going to be as difficult as I implied. And engaging the company of my only friend was a sure way to manipulate me into helping.
“There’s over a hundred people out searching tonight.” Livia’s announcement and her presence did little to still the frantic nerves inside of me.
Anxiety mounted, that I kept under the surface with self-control and intention. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up the facade tonight, though. Something about this one—this specific disappearance—had my jitters evolving into barely suppressed panic.
I could feel Detective Walker’s observation as we hiked down the backwoods road that was canopied by oak trees and maples. In the distance, in another section of the search grid, deeper into the woods that spanned acres on either side of the road, people shouted.
“Sophia!”
We were all out looking for the missing young woman. All of us hoping to find her alive, or perhaps merely run away, or maybe there’d been an accident and she was injured in a ditch. A ditch like this one.
I slowed to peer into a culvert. The corrugated pipe that ran beneath the road was littered with dead leaves and branches, puddles of water from the rain-storm two nights ago, a beer can, and—oddly—a broken dog collar.
No Sophia Bergstrom.
“Did you find something?” Livia hurried up alongside of me.
I heard the crunching of turf under Detective Walker’s boots as he scurried into the ditch next to me. I glanced at them both.
“Just an old dog collar.”
Detective Walker squatted next to the culvert, flicking on a flashlight and shining it on the dog collar. “Looks like it’s been there a long time.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” I added. I wanted to help. I really did. But I could feel the tremor in my muscles. My mind was whirling with repressed memories that fought to release themselves. I didn’t like this road—I didn’t know why—I just didn’t like it.
Livia straightened as Detective Walker pushed to his feet. He eyed me, assessing me as much as the search grid.
“Do you think she’s—” Livia bit off her ominous question.
“Let’s hope for the best.” Detective Walker set his mouth in a firm, determined line.
