Page 90 of Everything She Feared

“I will.”

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“No, but thank you so much, Val.”

Rain webbed down the windows of Sara’s house.

Home alone, she clasped her hands around her ceramic cup of hot tea in a futile effort to subdue the icy dread inside her. She glanced at the cup withWorld’s Best Momprinted in colorful letters. Katie had made it for her at a Sunny Days craft class.

Sara then glanced at Katie’s drawing book on the kitchen table, opened to the sketch of Anna and Katie on the cliff.

Sara stifled a sob.

Why did Katie make this drawing? Is she trying to confess?

Sara thought back to the detectives, Pierce and Benton, sitting at this table not so long ago. They’d come to talk to Katie, a follow-up, they’d said. But they’d come with their binders, presenting Sara with options, and were so formal, socareful, as if laying legal groundwork.

What do they know?

She’d heard nothing from them since.

Sara pulled her laptop closer, went online and for several minutes searched news sites, social media posts. Then she went to the pages of the people mining rumors and conspiracies tied to her dark past.

It appeared that nothing new had emerged.

She looked at Katie’s drawing again.

Could it be some sort of evidence? Should I burn it? Should I get a lawyer? I can’t afford a lawyer. Who can I talk to? What should I do?

Sara buried her face in her hands.

I have to face the truth.

The truth.

Sara’s eyes flicked to the ceiling.

The truth is up there.

She left the kitchen and a moment later was on the second floor, looking down the hall to a closed door. Behind that door were the steps that led to the attic.

Sara hated going to the attic—knowing what was there.

Rooted before the closed door, glancing at her tattooed wrist, rubbing it, thinking of Katie having bad thoughts stirred her own...

...the rain...the pain...the screaming...

Sara turned from the attic door and hurried downstairs.

40

Seattle, Washington

“I’ll never forgetthat day.” Stephanie Leal’s voice rose from the recording playing on Ryan Gardner’s laptop as she recalled her former high school classmate Magda Kurtz.

That’s the file I want. That’s the one.

Ryan paused it and went to the kitchen. He made a ham and cheese sandwich, got a glass of milk, then came back to the recording. While eating, he surveyed the files listed in the folder where he’d stored it among additional material he’d obtained years ago that had belonged to Julie Carter, a Montana journalist.

---