Page 26 of Our Darkest Summer
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The sun was setting behind the canopy of the trees when my door flew open, and Kinsley strolled inside like a madman.
“We should check the walls,” she said between two desperate tries to breathe.
“What?”
“The walls. People hide things into the walls,” she insisted. “We could check, maybe we would find something that would lead us somewhere.” She let out a long breath, collecting herself.
“Did you happen to run home just for this?” I asked, walking to the door.
“Funny.” She grimaced, and I sent her a smug smile. “But we really should.”
The house was already searched by the police twelve years ago. All of my mom’s things—the ones Joshua didn’t take—were now stored in the tool room.
I stepped around her and walked down the stairs.
“Thomas?” Kinsley called after me, and when I didn’t answer, I heard her curse before following. “Where are you going?”
I turned left at the bottom of the staircase and crossed the living room into another hallway. I glanced to my right, where on the other side of the glass wall stood the forest, already inked by shadows. I halted at the single door at the very end of the hall and pushed it open.
“Really? A door with stairs leading down to another door?” Kinsley asked from behind me with a judgmental tone, and the corner of my mouth twitched upward.
I walked down the few stairs and opened the second door, stepping into my father’s old tool room with Kinsley following.
“You are such a prick,” she grumbled, and I gazed back at her.
“Remind me to add that to my resume,” I answered and she scoffed.
I really fucking loved teasing her.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
It was a fair question.
My father designed this room to be his escape. He wanted to come in here and work on his deck boat, which he bought brandnew and used maybe three times…there weren’t a lot of things to fix on it. The boat now stood in the middle of the room, covered by a white sheet. Kinsley walked around it, sparing one glance at the hidden form of the boat before her eyes turned toward the walls covered with shelves and tools. It was strange to see her here, but not in a bad way. It was strange because I never imagined I would come back. Not alone, but especially not with her. And to my dread she fit. She fit into my memories like the puzzle piece that always seemed to be missing at the end. The one you search for but never find. And here she was. Just out of reach.
I fixed my eyes on the leather armchair in the corner. My father’s. We were never allowed to sit on it when we were little. And when we once did anyway, we fell asleep, and he found us there…We never tried again.
I swept the memory away. Seeing it now made me feel like I was still that child, scared of my father’s shadow. I felt my skin heat and I clenched my jaw. He didn’t have power over me anymore, I tried to convince myself. Except it was a lie.
“When I said we should check the walls, I didn’t mean these,” Kinsley broke the silence. “I was thinking about the place where your mom spent most of her time.”
I grabbed the box resting against the armchair. “We took most of her stuff home. This is all that’s left,” I said, and she moved closer.
Kinsley made a disbelieving face as she reached for the box. “That cannot be all.”
There were exactly four things in there: an old sun hat with a purple ribbon, a calendar from 2002, an empty lipstick tube, and an unused journal.
“Are you sure you checked the walls and stuff?” she asked, handing the box back to me.
“It was the police who searched the house—” My words died. I wanted to say they had to work thoroughly, but that didn’t mean they did.
Kinsley arched a brow waiting, and I slid my hand into my pocket to where the cold key to my parents’ room was resting.
Chapter Fourteen
Kinsley
