Hastings may be behind bars, but men like him rarely work alone. They find one another. They look out for each other and commit the same crimes.
What if one of his twisted friends is out there, finishing what he began?
What if that person has Sadie now?
The thought hits me so hard I have to grab the dresser to keep myself steady.
The phone starts ringing.
I spin around, heart hammering, breath trapped in my lungs, as if the monster I just imagined is standing in the doorway, watching me.
My pulse stutters as I answer. “Hello?”
“Hello,” a man says, his voice gravelly. “I may have some information that might help you find your daughter.”
SEVENTEEN
SCARLETT
Six Months Ago
The moment we arrive at Saltspray Cove Youth Camp, relief floods my body so fast, I almost feel guilty. My shoulders, which have been welded up around my ears for weeks if not months, finally slip downward.
I breathe in deeply, my chest loosening with each gulp of oxygen. The air is fresh with the scent of pine and luxury.
During most of the drive, Sadie barely looked up from her pink iPhone. She acted like she didn’t care, only giving me grunts or one-word answers when I tried to talk to her. But as we reach the entrance, she suddenly sits up straighter.
She leans forward, pressing her fingertips to the glass, and stares at the pastel buildings surrounded by swaying palm trees.
“Whoa, Aunty Scarlett…this place is actually gorgeous,” she murmurs.
Sunlight glimmers on a strip of ocean between the buildings. I feel something wake up inside me that I haven’t felt in a long time. “It really is.”
“Doesn’t even feel like a camp,” she says, and I laugh softly.
She’s right. The place looks more like a fancy seaside resort than a camp. There’s no way I could ever afford it on an English teacher’s salary, especially now that the divorce is final and I’m on my own very soon. But Judy offered to pay for both Sadie and me.
Two months ago, I checked the prices online and saw how much it cost for an adult to come along. I almost fell out of my chair. It seemed way too much, and I told Judy that, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“You’ve been through a lot,” she said. “You need it as much as Sadie does. And it’s a chance for the two of you to bond even more.”
I don’t know if it’s possible for Sadie and me to be even closer than we already are.
When she’s around me she’s much calmer and rebels less than when she’s with her mother, and even though I try to help Judy out, to talk to Sadie whenever she gets out of line, there are times when I secretly love being her favorite grown-up. The one that has the power to make rules but also bends them sometimes, who brings her secret snacks and lets her stay up late for midnight reading when she is at our house.
Judy and I had become friends fast while sharing a hospital room in the maternity ward, but she did not know me well enough to make me Sadie’s godmother then.
But over the years, having spent so much time with Sadie, that’s what I’ve become and I adore her to bits. I had to pull a few strings to get her to be in my class, just so I could get to see her even more.
Being her teacher can be a challenge at times. I have to be careful at school to dial back my attention and not play favorites.
But when I found out Elena Scott was bullying Sadie, making her lunch periods hell and leaving little notes that, even in their childishness, stung, I had to step in and protect her.
Bullying is not tolerated in any form at Ridgewell Academy, and I have always been laser-focused on making sure my classroom is a safe place, especially for Sadie. When that line got crossed, I made sure heads rolled, even if it meant a few difficult conversations with parents who would rather believe their own children could do no wrong.
I made so much noise that, in the end, after a lot of meetings and stern warnings, the school board voted for expulsion. I almost felt bad for the girl but not enough to regret what I’d done. Seeing Sadie’s eyes when I announced to the class that Elena had left the school and would not be coming back was worth it.
My lips curl into a smile at the memory before I bring myself back to the present.
