A few feet past and a bit behind Nora, Finn takes a seat in the grass.
“I used to come out here all the time,” Nora says after a moment. She glances over her shoulder, in Finn’s direction, as if she can sense him. His face contorts, lips parting.
A shiver rolls through Nora’s shoulders, and her gaze slides to the creek. “I think part of me figured if I looked enough, I’d find something that even resembled a clue. I knew they had teams of people on it—and still do—but it was like if I was here enough, maybe I’d be the one to find it,” she says. “Find him.”
I turn the words over in my mouth a handful of times before gathering the courage to spit them out. “I’ve been looking into the disappearances,” I say.
Behind Nora, Finn goes stiff as a board.
Nora stills. “Why?”
Heat licks up my neck and across my cheeks. My mouth makes the decision before my brain can protest. “Because of Finn and theothers. I think whatever happened, it happened here. Or near here.”
With uncovered panic, Finn says, “Jo,” but I ignore him, like he isn’t there. Because he’s not.
Nora inspects me for a moment. “How do you know that?”
My belly lurches, and I try to keep my face impassive. “I…I’ve been putting pieces together. Articles and news segments and witness reports.” Technically, there are no actual witness reports. There are people who saw the kids before and didn’t see them again, but not a single soul saw them go. Saw who took them.
But I can’t exactly tell her the witnesses are the victims themselves. And only three. Or maybe four.
“And?” she asks, not cold but inquisitive.
“And as far as I can tell, they were all either at or near this creek,” I say, gesturing to the lapping water down the bank.
“What can you do that twenty years of cops haven’t been able to?” She doesn’t sugarcoat it, nor does she sugarcoat anything. She’s not wrong either. What do I really think I’m doing, playing detective?
Instead of telling me it’s ridiculous like I expect—like I know Finn wants to, lurking a few feet away—Nora lets out a long breath. “You need to be careful, Jo,” she says. “The summer is almost over.”
I frown, confused.
Nora presses on. “It’s a pattern. Before the end of the summer, that’s usually when the next one disappears.”
My stomach drops like an anvil, slamming into my feet.
“I know how easy it is to fall into the rabbit hole,” Nora says. “But this might be one you can’t climb out of.”
“So, what, we do nothing?”
“No,” Nora says, shaking her head. A smile bordering on mischievous lands on her lips. “We do something. We just do it smarter.”
We sit together for a few more minutes, not really talking about anything, and it’s so comfortable it makes my chest ache. The pieces of me desperate for a friend battle it out with the rest, and by the time Nora rises to leave, I’m exhausted.
She sweeps her gaze around. “Get home safe, okay?”
I nod. “You too.”
She smiles, and then she’s gone, heading back through the trees, leaving me alone with the creek.
The creek and the sulking ghost.
The two of them aren’t identical, but no one could claim they aren’t related. They have the same pink lips, the same round nose. The same eyes.
“She’s so grown-up.”
That familiar ache swells in my chest. I reach a hand out without thinking, letting my palm settle on top of Finn’s. My fingers pass through his, the grass tickling my skin.
Finn meets my eyes, and I can’t quite read the emotion in them. It makes the pain in my chest pulse with the beat of my heart.
