“Head toward the sunset. Don’t make any turns. When you’ve had enough, turn around and come straight back. That way you won’t get lost.”
“I’ll bring my phone. Just in case.”
“Okay. Good luck.”
Roger stood at the edge of the tree line.
Nic turned, took a few steps, then stopped. “Can I ask you something?” she said.
He nodded. “Sure.”
“Did you know a woman named Daisy Hollander?”
Booth stared blankly.
“Yeah,” he said. “She was a girl from high school.”
“Who disappeared?” Nic asked.
“Who told you that?”
“I just heard it around. Any idea what happened to her?”
“She left. Just like the rest of her family, one by one. People do that around here, you know.”
Nic watched his face, the nonchalance of his words and the tone of his voice not matching his expression.
“You should get going before the sun is gone.”
He disappeared behind the fence. She heard the door to the inn open and close. Then she started to move.
Her legs felt heavy. Her breath shallow. She was tired and she hadn’t eaten—her body was protesting now. But the pain felt good. She ran through the trees, watching her feet carefully with every step so she didn’t place them down on a branch or rock. It was an obstacle course and it did exactly what she remembered from her days racing cross-country. The physical pain, the mental preoccupation—all of it a welcome distraction.
She checked her phone. Fifteen minutes had passed. Still no fence.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
The pain in her legs had moved into her side. A cramp. She never had to stop. Even after a bad night. Even after miles and miles. This was more than exhaustion.
Suddenly she was standing still, buckled over, gasping for air. Her head was light as she sucked it into her lungs. Words had broken free while her mind had been busy fighting the pain. They were free and singing between her ears. The things she’d said to her mother the morning she disappeared. The things she’d piled on top ofI hate youandopen your eyes!The things that surely had pushed her mother over the edge on the anniversary of Annie’s death.
You killed my sister!
Oh, God. No.
You killed your own child!
No.
She had said those words. And she’d told no one.
Tears came, running into the sticky sweat on her face. She wiped them with the back of her hand and leaned against a tree.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
The sky was turning orange. She didn’t have long until it would be too low to help her navigate.
She looked back at the sunset to make sure she’d squared herself, to make sure of the direction. When she did, she saw something shimmer through the trees. She looked again, then started to walk toward it. Another shimmer. The sun was almost at the horizon and it created a glare. But she kept walking, until she was forced to stop.
