Page 49 of Secrets Along the Shore
“Was anyone raised by their grandmother?” I dared.
Elsie pursed her lips as she pondered the question. I waited. I pretended to be nonchalant.
“Yes. Yes, I think Alan was.”
“Alan?” I stiffened.
Elsie continued to nod. “Yes. He was raised by his grandmother—she and I used to work together at the civic center back in the day helping with the after-school program. Alan’s momma was a mail lady at the post office.”
I was scared to even ask. “Did he—did Alan have a sister?”
Elsie’s smile faded. “Yes. He did. She died when he was oh, around fourteen or fifteen maybe? Her name was Ashley, and she did everything for that boy. Two peas in a pod, they were, even though she was about five years older than he was.”
I was almost numb. The pieces weren’t supposed to have fit—at least—in the end I hadn’t wanted them to. I didn’t want to discover ties to anyone at my own work place. Let alone Alan.
Alan.
He had been chatting with Dereck. He had a tie to Sophia through her boyfriend. And if we’d had service calls to Lilian and Rosalie’s homes, it stood to reason that Alan had driven supplies there. He was connected. To all three women. If I could prove it.
I just needed to see the records at work tomorrow and identify what employees had been at those job sites.
“Noa?” Elise tipped her head.
“H-how did Ashley die?”
“Oh, it was a car accident. Very tragic.”
I nodded. Struggling for words was an understatement. I was drowning. I was suffocating.
Sophia, why are you making me do this?
I searched the edge of the woods but didn’t see her. I didn’t see the others either. Had I just concocted this sordid story out my own feelings? But then—Alan could have easily seen my computer screen this afternoon. He had come in just after the crew and helped the guys make sense of their work calendar. If he’d snooped at my monitor, he would piece it together instantly if he was behind it all. He would be able to acquire my phone number through the personnel directory.
“Noa, are you all right?” Elsie edged forward.
“I’m fine,” I snapped.
She pressed her lips together, hurt flashing in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Elsie. I just—” I stood up suddenly, the lemonade ignored on the small table between us. “I need to go.”
“But you just got here,” Elsie protested. “You haven’t even drunk your lemonade!”
I didn’t respond.
I couldn’t.
My throat was closing. I could hear him. I could hear Alan’s fun-loving laughter and then in my mind, it morphed. A low timbre. An arrogant, superior chuckle that came from behind my right ear.
In the darkness. His breath was hot on my neck. The tip of a knife’s blade trailed its way from my jaw to my shoulder. I heard his laughter, and even that was controlled. Everything he did was controlled.
I sprinted for my car.
Alan.
Him.
They weren’t the same. They were so different. And yet, in the end, they were both hunters, and I was their prey.
