10
RILEY
Age 18
The car skidded to a stop as I pulled up in front of the old but familiar field. I forgot to close the door as I ran, stumbling over the weeds and upturned roots. It was my last hope, therehadto be something here. Some clue to how I could get in touch with him.
“Beckett!” I cried.
My hands fumbled on the ladder as I climbed up, each step seemed further apart then when I last climbed them, three long years ago. When I opened the latch and poked my head in, I half expected to see Beckett sitting there, munching on a Twizzler while he waited for me.
But he wasn’t there.
Nothing was.
Not our old notebooks. Or our card games. Not our books or the old quilt Tracy said we could keep out here.
It was all gone.
Everything was gone.
The tree house was so empty now. So utterly empty.
My heart cracked as I crawled into the space, sitting against the wall we’d always watched the stars through. My feet hit the opposite side of the building when I stretched out, making me realize just how small the place was. How had two gangly teenagers ever fit in here? How had it felt so impossibly huge then? It had been our fortress, our sanctuary, hidden away in the trees yet there was nothing left of it. It was nothing but an empty shell with haunting whispers of long forgotten memories.
My heart was just as empty and hollow.
Tears fell as reality crashed down. I’d driven six hours with the hope that I’d find some scrap… some morsel of information I could use to reconnect with Beckett and all I found was dead-end after dead-end. Tosh had moved, the Henrys had moved, and I had no way of finding where they’d gone. Nothing.
I fell over as the sobs hit me, curling into a ball, and that’s when I saw it. The final piece to shatter my hope that Detective Beach and Psychic Eagle Eye would be a team again someday.
Our names, which were once carved into the window sill, were no longer legible, destroyed by several thick gouges. They were as awful as they were ugly, chipping away at the proof of our friendship.
“No, Beckett,” I choked, tracing my fingers over the jagged cuts. No accident could have done that kind of damage. No creature could have gnawed the wood so precisely.
Only someone who wanted to destroy our marks could have done that.
Only Beckett.
It cut through me like a knife. Beckett tried to erase our imprint on the most sacred space in my life.
“NO!” I screamed, slamming my fist into the wood. “NO, GODDAMNIT! IT’S NOT FAIR! I wouldn’t leave you, Beckett, I wouldn’t….”
As the tears finally slowed, I realized I no longer had a choice. I had to let go of him now. The evidence was clear as day. Beckett believed I’d abandoned him just like his mom had and closed that door on his life. I had no way to show him otherwise, no way to find him. All I could do now was try to move on and pray he was okay, wherever he was.
***
By Thursday, I was officially going insane. Beckett had called every day, sometimes twice a day, and he’d texted several times as well, but they were no closer to finding Michael than they were when he arrived in Savannah on Saturday. I was beyond sick with worry, and my work was showing it. I’d finally finished the painting for Mr. Matthews and had delivered it on Tuesday, but I’d had to call in extensions for some of my other pieces because I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking long enough to do anything.
Old Quinn must have sensed my anxiety because he hadn’t left my side once. He even jumped onto the couch with me, which was rare due to his achy joints. Lady seemed less enthusiastic on her daily strolls, too, choosing to stay closer to me than usual.
Amelia was released from the hospital on Tuesday and I’d brought her to my place instead of taking her home. Honestly, having her around the last couple of days was the only thing keeping me from going out of my fucking mind. I’d only just found Beckett—or rather, he found me—and now… now what? Despite the phone calls, I had no more of a clear direction about where we were going than I had before.
Amelia’s warm body shifted next to me on the couch, drawing my attention back to the present. Amelia had fallen asleep with her head in my lap, some time after breakfast and was starting to come to.
I ran my fingers through her short blond hair, admiring the streaks of red and teal. “Hey, beautiful,” I whispered.
She rolled to her back and stared up at me. It was clear from the determined look on her face that she hadn’t changed her mind about our conversation the night before and I had to quell the urge to start that debate again. She had confided in me the details of her attack – how Michael had been waiting in the shadows when she arrived home, like a predator waiting for its prey – and followed that bit of information up with a hastyI want to go to my house tomorrow. It was enough to make me see red, furious that she’d even consider it with Michael still on the loose, but she was quick to reassure me it was only to gather a few necessities to have with her while she stayed here. I was hesitant to agree, because what if Michael wasn’t in Savannah? What if he was still in Reedsport, waiting for his chance to grab Amelia again? We’d argued about it for at least an hour until I finally surrendered.
