The restaurant empties slowly tonight, chairs scraping, voices fading into the street. Izzy has already left as Mommy duties wait for no one.
I move on autopilot. Wipe, stack, lock. My body’s tired, but my mind is too restless to settle.
Giovanni was supposed to pick me up.
He hasn’t shown yet.
I tell myself not to read into it. He said he had somewhere else to be. He said he’d come at closing. People like him move on different clocks. Still, unease crawls under my skin as I step outside, the door clicking shut behind me.
The street is quiet. Too quiet.
I start walking, keys threaded between my fingers like always. The docks aren’t far, the air already carrying that familiar metallic tang. I tell myself I’m fine. I’ve walked this route a thousand times. I’ll just wait for Giovanni back home.
That’s when I feel it.
The shift. The pressure in the air like something stepping closer behind me.
I turn.
He’s there.
Leaning casually against a parked car like he’s been waiting. Cropped hair. Expensive black jacket and pants. And underneath?—
A red dress shirt.
My blood turns to ice as I recognize the shirt. It’s him.
The man from years ago. The one I saw under a lamppost. The one Coral couldn’t stop glancing over her shoulder at. The one my brain tried to blur into nothing because remembering him hurt too much.
I’ve had nightmares about him for three years. The police said he wasn’t real, but I knew.
Now he’s come back for me.
“Evening,” he says.
His smile is lazy. Familiar. Wrong.
I don’t answer. I take a step back.
He straightens, blocking the sidewalk without touching me. “Relax. We’re just going to have a little chat.”
My pulse roars in my ears. “Get out of my way.”
He laughs softly. “You really should have kept your head down. People like you always think asking questions makes you brave.”
My stomach drops. “You.”
“I’m touched you remember.” He saunters over to me. “You were so young when we grabbed your sister. Tell me, did you ever qualify for track nationals?”
“I quit.” I don’t know why I’m even talking, but something in me tells me the second I stop, he’ll do something. I have to keep him talking. “Tell me where you’re keeping my sister.”
“Bold of you to assume we’re keeping her anywhere. It’s been years. You never stopped to think that maybe there’s nothing left to find?”
My heart sinks. “Coral… is…?”
No. No, no, no. It can’t be. He’s lying. I can’t bring myself to believe any of his words. My sister isn’t dead.
She can’t be.
