Page 7 of Our Darkest Summer
“Kevin?” It was a woman’s voice. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, and I stalked closer, waiting.
“Maeve.” Kevin hiccuped.Shit.“I-I just brought some snacks.” For a moment I couldn’t hear anything, then he started talking again. “I also wanted to ask you some questions. Would that be okay?”
I knew he was trying to save the situation, but he sounded suspiciously nervous. He told me about Officer Maeve. She was his father’s right hand, and she was definitely not supposed tobe here at this hour. The next thing that reached my ears was his nervous laugh.
Receding laugh. The signal.
I speared one last glance at the empty street then snuck into the police station. I closed the door as gently as I could, and repeated the instructions Kevin had told me one last time in my head.Up the stairs, right turn, and the third door on the left is where they store the case files.
I shook my whole body as I straightened from my hiding place and changed my whole appearance into the man I was raised to be. I stretched my neck and walked into the station like I owned it. This way, even if I ran into somebody, I had a chance; they wouldn’t stop me and ask questions. The key was confidence. I learned, it could be intimidating enough that people not only didn’t question you, but stepped out of your way. Especially in a small town like this. And if it didn’t work, it was still better than getting caught sneaking around.
The hallway was empty. Kevin’s voice was coming from behind a closed door, and hopefully all the officers were there with him. I walked up the stairs and turned right toward a blue double door which most likely led to another hallway. My hand was already on the handle when I heard footsteps approaching from the other side. I glanced around in the empty stairway for any hideaway while the footsteps were closing in.
There was a narrow white door beside the stairs, almost invisible against the white walls, and with two big steps, I darted up to it and slid inside. I let out a relieved breath when the door closed behind me.So much for being the man I was raised to be. Fuck.
A twisted smell reached my nostrils and I grimaced. White tiles covered the walls, but I didn’t even have time to register that I was in the restroom when someone flushed and stepped out from one of the stalls. I turned to leave, when?—
“Hey, you,” the man called, and I pressed my lips into a hard line, taking a breath and turning back around. “Who are you?”
I lifted a brow, taking in the short, mouse-faced officer with a beer belly. It may not have to be hard after all.
“I’m here on behalf of the Rhodes Architecture and Design firm,” I held out a hand, before pulling it back, remembering where he had been just a moment ago. “We own a house at the lake,” I explained with a tone that implied that he was at fault for not knowing.
The man moved his head quickly. “Y-yes, the Rhodes’ house. Terrible, terrible tragedy. Runaway mother. Left all her family behind, two children,” he mumbled, and I nodded, hardening my features. I was about to excuse myself when he went on. “I’m Officer Gregory Fisher,” he introduced himself with a proud grin, “but call me Greg. Everyone does. Is th?—”
“I heard there are doughnuts downstairs,” I cut in, and not too surprisingly, the man’s whole face lit up as he went to finally wash his hands.
“Doughnuts you say?”
“If you didn’t miss it already.” I nodded, and his eyes widened.
“Oh, I better hurry then.” He let out a nervous giggle, and I opened the door, finally stepping out from the toilet smell. “It was nice meeting you,” he called back over his shoulder, hurrying past me down the stairs.
As soon as he was out of sight, I walked to the blue door and pushed it open. This time, there weren’t any interruptions. The hallway I stepped into was packed with doors, but I ignored them all, and walked to the third on the left, labeled:Records. I pulled out the key that Kevinborrowedfor me and pushed it into the lock. I exhaled when I turned it and the door obediently opened.
The records room was a small space with shelves and filing cabinets crammed inside. I turned on the flashlight on my phone and directed it at the cabinet drawers. A smile tugged on my lips when I realized they were labeled in alphabetical order. I ran down my fingers on the drawers until I reached the one I was looking for with the lettersM–Son it. I pulled it open, my eyes searching for the nameRhodesbetween the brown folders.
There you are.My eyes finally caught the familiar last name.
My name.
There was a feeling clawing from deep inside my chest that told me that I should be hesitant. That I should feel something more than eager curiosity, but I didn’t. Maybe in the first six years after my mother’s disappearance I would have. In the second six years, I grew up and realized not many people were found after being gone for more than a decade. Which meant all I had to do now was bring justice.
I wasn’t a little boy anymore, begging for answers about where his mother was. I was here to demand them and get them one way or another. I opened the file, my eyes jumping over the picture of my mother and landing on the report. The only paper the folder contained.
What first caught my attention was the date scribbled over and the handwritten information from a day later.
Scribbling into an official police report, even if this was hardly a fit for the requirements, was forbidden. There should’ve been a lot more information about my mother and her last appearance. There were statements missing, and descriptions.
I put the file back into the folder and shut the drawer, fury crawling its way into my mind. Small towns and their irregular ways of dealing with anything. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the cold wall. The police file was a big pile of shit with information I was already aware of. I didn’t have high hopes of what I’d find, but they were certainly higher than this.
The alarm on my phone went off, and a bitter laugh bubbled from my throat.
It was time for a party.
Chapter Five
Kinsley
