Fixed. She scratched me. Use a leash if necessary. No visible marks, Ryan said. My stomach churned so violently I had to run to the sink. I didn’t throw up, but I almost did.
I stood there, clinging to the counter, staring at my own pale reflection in the small window above the sink. I looked older than I had been that morning, not in years, but in pain.
Honestly, by the time Sam’s truck pulled up in front of me, my hands had gone numb. I ran to the front door and met him before he even made it onto the porch.
The moment she saw my face, all her color drained away. “Evie, what’s wrong?” I handed her Rayan’s phone. She frowned, read the first message, then the second.
His jaw tightened. He kept reading. He scrolled down further. Then he looked up at me, and I saw something close to horror in his eyes. “Where did you get this?” He left it here.
San looked again. This time more slowly. He listened to the voicemail. He studied the photo of Janet in bed. His large, rough hand trembled once. Then he whispered, “Good heavens, so the tears I’d been holding back finally came out?”
“It’s her, Sam. It’s my girl. It’s Janet.” He grabbed my shoulders and held me tight, as if he were afraid I’d break in two. “I know,” he said. For a second, neither of us spoke.
We just stood there on my porch, holding onto each other as the truth rose between us like a storm. Then Sam took a deep breath and looked out at the road.
“We called Ben.” Sheriff Ben Tarner had known our family for years. He had gone fishing with Sam when they were young. He wasn’t flashy or loud, nor was he one of those men who speak before they think.
In a small town, that kind of man can mean the difference between justice and disaster. Can we trust him? I asked. Sam nodded once. “If we can trust anyone, we can trust Ben,” he called from the porch as I stood beside him, gripping Rayan’s phone so tightly my fingers ached.
“Come,” he answered quickly. Sam spoke in a low, harsh voice I’d only heard a few times before. “Come, I need you right now at Elin’s.” No radio warning, no helpers yet, just you.
And Ben was silent. There was a pause. Then Ben said something I couldn’t hear. Sam replied, “Because if what I’m seeing is real, Janet Parker never died.” The silence on the other end seemed to stretch on forever.
Then Ben said he was coming. We went inside to wait. I made coffee because I needed to keep my hands busy. I poured three cups. Although none of us were in the mood for coffee. I kept looking out the front window every few seconds.
Every passing car made my heart leap. Every shadow made me think Rayan had returned. When Ben finally arrived, he parked down the street and walked the rest of the way.
That alone told me he understood the danger. He came in through my front door, looked at my face once, then at Sam, and didn’t miss a word. “Show it to me.” Sam handed him the phone.
“Come,” he read silently. His face changed slowly, like a stone cracking under ice. He listened to Linda’s voice note. He looked at the photos twice and then raised his eyes to me.
Elin said carefully. “I need you to tell me everything from the second Rayan left this house.” I told her everything, every word, every feeling, every message, every photo, every terrible second filled with hope.
He listened without interrupting. When I finished, he stood very still and rubbed his chin. Then he asked the question that made my blood run cold. “Where does Linda have a basement?” I swallowed. “At her old farmhouse in Willow Crecroat.”
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