Page 22 of The Girl in the River

BLUEBERRY HILL

Sylvia Wade shivered as she sipped her third glass of sauvignon blanc and looked outside over the holler from her vantage point on Blueberry Hill. Her husband Bill had stayed around the resort to make certain Mark arrived home safely. They were both worried to death about him and how he would handle what happened tonight.

But she’d retreated back home to escape the questions.

Bill had bought the blueberry farm a few years back and hired workers to take care of it. She’d rather have lived in the city but she had to admit she liked the peacefulness and beauty of the countryside.

She drained the glass and poured herself a fourth, her nerves raw. All she’d ever wanted was for her son to be happy.

He’d insisted that he’d found that with Mia.

At first she’d thought so, too. She’d embraced the girl. Had felt sorry for her because she had no family of her own.

But then she’d sensed something off about Mia. Mark was naïve and too trusting. He’d been fooled by another woman before.

Sylvia had been terrified that Mia was just like her.

And then… well, she’d been right.

Her hand trembled as she lifted the glass to her lips. She didn’t dare tell anyone what she’d done tonight.

Mark would never forgive her.

The wind battered the glass panes of the Victorian house where she and Bill had lived now for fifteen years. The tornado a while back had ripped off shutters, shattered windows and knocked a tree into the roof. The water damage had been extensive both inside the house and the yard, which had flooded.

She pushed her guilt over the evening aside. They had rebuilt their home just as Mark would rebuild his life without Mia.

TWENTY-SIX

CROOKED CREEK

Although it was late, Ellie drove by Mia’s house on the way home.

“Her car is in the drive,” Cord said as she parked.

“Tori drove her to the wedding venue. All the lights are off.” Still, she pulled her gun, climbed out and scanned the property. As expected, Mia’s yard held beautiful flower beds and greenery. A small pink bike was parked beneath the carport. Hummingbird feeders hung from a tree.

Ellie slowly headed up the path to the front door while Cord walked around outside. She knocked on the door and rang the doorbell, then waited. Stepping to the side, she tried to look through the window but the curtains were drawn. The house was dark, the property silent except for the rain dripping from the awning.

Her rational mind told her that Mia was not here. That she hadn’t run away and come back home. But in the morning she’d return with a warrant.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Derrick was wiped out by the time he reached Crooked Creek. He’d spent the journey trying to devise a plan to help Lindsey and her children when she wanted nothing to do with him.

The flags adorning the town, celebrating fallen soldiers, ridiculed him. No one could bring Rick back or alleviate the pain of losing him. His children would grow up without a father.

The thunderstorm he’d battled since he left Atlanta had forced him to a crawl, and the wind beat at his vehicle, tires churning through the rainwater accumulating on the streets. The traffic light swung back and forth but at least the storm had people turning in early and the streets were deserted.

He wanted to see Ellie. But he checked his watch and realized it was way too late to disturb her.

To distract himself, he flipped on the radio and listened to the news. Angelica Gomez was reporting.

“This evening, wedding plans at Magnolia Manor took a drastic turn when the bride, twenty-seven-year-old Mia Norman, disappeared. Mia is approximately five-four, one-hundred and thirty-five pounds with brown hair. Police suspect foul play and are asking that you be on the alert for Ms. Norman. If you spot her or have information on her whereabouts, please call the local police.”

Derrick’s pulse jumped, and he changed direction, steering his car onto the street toward Ellie’s. All the lights in the house were burning bright indicating she was still awake. The wedding party had obviously turned into a criminal investigation.

Regret for not being with her struck him. Ellie could have used his help.

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