4
BECKETT
Age 14
“Psst, Detective,” Riley whispered as I passed him in the hall. “We have a mission!”
My eyes went wide, then I was sprinting to the bathroom to brush my teeth, eager to get back to our room. It had been a while since our last mission and I couldn’t wait.
As soon as the lights were out, and we heard the door to our foster parents’ bedroom slick shut, Riley reached for the flashlight and notebook he kept hidden under his pillow before crawling into my bed.
“Ready for another mission, Detective?” he asked, grinning wide as we lay on our stomachs. I loved seeing Riley smile, it made me happy.
“Of course, Eagle Eye!”
We giggled quietly as he flipped to the newest pages of the comic book he was creating for us. It was our secret… our private collection of adventures no one else would ever know about. I helped come up with the stories while Riley created the drawings. He was going to win awards and be famous someday for his art, I just knew it.
We’d completed about six short stories so far, and each time we adapted our characters a little more to our liking. I was Detective Beach, a shapeshifting cop who loved solving crimes. Riley was a psychic who had an uncanny ability to see inside people’s minds. Together, we saved the world on a regular basis.
I wouldn’t tell Riley, because it felt a little too silly, but I really did feel like I could save the world with him by my side. I wonder if everyone had a best friend like that or if I was just the lucky one.
***
Jake and I ended up staying two days in Reedsport, searching for the box. We managed to find the man Amelia had sold it to the same day we talked to her, only to learn he traded it for a new engine for his mustang. He said he didn’t know the guy who bought it or have a way to get in touch with him again, so it was a dead end. We’d asked around town, including several of the thrift shops, but gained no new leads. By Thursday, we had no choice but to head home.
At least one positive thing came from the trip. I had a brand-new ship for my collection and it was easily the most beautiful of them all. I’d hung it above the fireplace almost as soon as I got home, loving how the burnt metals stood out against the pale gray stone.
It wasn’t until later in the week, when I did laundry, that I discovered the business card in my pocket. In the hustle of finding Amelia, I’d completely forgotten the saleswoman had given it to me when I bought the ship. As I slumped in the couch with a mug of my favorite whiskey-infused coffee, I noticed the metallic embossed lettering from its place on the coffee table and snatched it up.
Phoenix Feather Creations
Owned by Preston Miller
“The Captain”
There was a website and email address at the bottom, along with a brief description of his services on the back. I was reminded of the online gallery, so I reached for my laptop. The website was fairly simple, with a calendar of upcoming exhibits and testimonials as well as a contact form. There was also a brief story of how art could be found in anything if we only took the time to look.
My heart jumped when I opened the gallery. Preston’s work was absolutely incredible. The things I’d seen at the market were only a small glimpse of what he could do. There were pieces of furniture made from refurbished wood, a bookshelf made entirely of reclaimed boat pieces, and a chandelier of driftwood and shells. My favorite was the coffee table made from beer bottles and wrought iron. The artist’s note said it took him over four years to collect the bottles from the shore and six months to create.
I browsed slowly through the images, enchanted by their beauty. Several of the designs had their own unique story of where the items came from or what inspired him beneath each of the photos. Those were what I found most interesting. There was something romantic about getting to see inside the artist’s mind to understand how and why each piece was designed. They spoke to me in a way nothing ever had before.
I’d been scouring artists’ booths for years, looking for something specific I wanted on my mantel, but nothing had come close to what I had in mind. After three hours of scrolling through this guy’s work, I had no doubt he could bring that vision to life for me. I clicked on the contact page to send him a message and nearly dropped my mug when the picture loaded.
The man staring back at me was a grown-up version of the boy I’d been missing for ten years. The one who had been my entire world, who carried all my fears, my hopes… my heart. It was him. It wasRiley!He was all grown-up now, but I’d still recognize that shy smile anywhere, like he didn’t know what the big fuss was or how to accept a compliment. And those eyes… I couldn’t stop admiring them. They were the same eyes that had be claiming my sleep for months… or years, if I was honest.
Except, it wasn’tRiley Tanagerprinted below the picture. The name read Preston Miller. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense, why I’d never been able to find him. He’d changed his name when he disappeared. But, why?
“Preston.”
I tried his name out, but it felt strange and unfamiliar on my lips, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. It didn’t suit him, didn’t fit Riley’s warm heart or kind spirit. He was Riley.MyRiley.
My drink splashed against my hand, making me realize I was shaking. My heart raced wildly, and for once, I had absolutely no fucking idea what to do.
I clicked around hoping for another picture, but there was only that one photo. I stared at it for hours, admiring how long his hair had gotten and how it swept slightly over his forehead. His face was longer now, cheekbones more defined, but there was still a fire behind those stunning gray eyes.
I had no idea what time it was when I picked up the phone to call Tosh.
“Hello?” she groaned. I glanced over at the clock. 3:12AM.Shit.
