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  There were loads of people in the house, and Taylor swallowed, trying to calm her nerves. Being around this many people at night always sent her anxiety through the roof. She’d been doing better over the last year, but it always sneaked in, hitting her when she didn’t want it to. Thinking about telling her parents she had a boyfriend, one she’d already offered a bed at their townhouse, wasn’t helping.

  She closed her eyes and wished the jumbled concerns away. It didn’t work. It never did.

  “Taylor!” Karen shouted her name, and Taylor was shocked to see her roommate at the party. She was swaying side to side, a red drink in a clear cup nearly splashing as she ran toward Taylor.

  “Karen, are you okay?” she asked as her roomie almost plowed into her.

  “I’m great. Scott invited me. He’s cute, isn’t he?” Karen looked around the room, her eyes wide behind her thick black-framed glasses.

  Taylor had never seen Karen drunk before. She was normally quiet and subdued. “Sure. How many of those have you had?” she asked loudly, to counter the music’s volume.

  “Only a few. Don’t worry, I’m just having a good time. Where have you been?” Karen asked.

  “Studying.” Taylor saw Brent wave at her over the sea of people between the front door and the kitchen. “I’ll talk to you in a bit. I’m going to get a drink.” Taylor felt uneasy about leaving her friend alone there, but she seemed to be enjoying herself.

  Her phone vibrated, but she left it in her pocket as she pressed through the partygoers, no one seeming to be aware that someone was trying to sneak past them. The phone went off again, and by the time Taylor got to Brent, she had it in her hand.

  There was a text from her dad.

  Dad – Spring break. Two words worth repeating. We all can’t wait for you to come home. We miss you around here, honey bear.

  Her dad. Always texting like he wrote, in full sentences. She was about to reply when another message popped up, this one from her cousin Isabelle.

  Isabelle – It happened again. I’m scared.

  Taylor read the message over, goosebumps rising on her arms. It happened again. I’m scared.

  It could only mean one thing, and Taylor knew it. The room was shrinking around her, the noise unbearable to be around. Someone was touching her shoulder, talking in her ear, and she felt a cup press into her hand. She dropped it, beer splashing on the ground.

  Everything snapped back, and the music started playing at normal speed as Brent’s surprised face focused in front of her.

  “I have to go,” Taylor muttered, and pushed her way to the front door. She heard Brent calling at her from the kitchen, but she didn’t stop. Karen tried to grab her arm, but she pulled it free and left the house. She ran now, not letting herself think about the text. Not out in the open like this, definitely not at night. She kept her gaze forward, trying not to allow herself to look around. If she did, she’d see shadows…everywhere.

  A few minutes later, she was in the hallway leading to her dorm room. Then she was inside, and Taylor slammed the door shut, locking it before sliding herself down the slab, her butt coming to rest on the carpet. Only then did she pull her phone out and respond to Isabelle.

  Tell me what happened.

  Two

  “Beth, calm yourself. Just because someone went missing doesn’t mean our old friend is back to his old tricks,” Paul said, staring at his laptop. His sister had been frantic when she called, and Paul couldn’t really blame her. As soon as he found out about the missing girl, he’d also feared the worst.

  “Twelve years, Paul. No kids have gone missing for twelve years. Not since Tommy O’Brian. Not since…” Beth left out his daughter’s name.

  “What have they uncovered so far?” Paul asked.

  “I’ll send you the link. I can’t get into it right now. My nerves are frazzled,” his sister said.

  “Other than that, how are things?” Paul knew they’d been having a rough go of it the last year or so, with Darrel getting injured at work and Beth having to bring in the lion’s share of money for their household.

  Beth let out a deep sigh. “Darrel’s working, so that’s good. He was getting kind of stressed out being penned up at home for so long.”

  “His back’s better?”

  She shrugged. “It’s better than it was. He’ll never be able to lift things like he used to, but he’s good at his job. He’s supervising the spring road repair crew.”

  Paul was glad to hear it. “Good. Are you guys doing okay? Do you need me to – ”

  Beth cut him off. “Paul, we’re fine. Thanks for helping out last year, but we’re going to be okay, I promise.”

  He hadn’t wanted to bring up money, but seeing her so worried on his screen sent him into big-brother mode. “Consider the subject dropped.” He saw an email arrive from Beth, with a link to a local news report from upstate. “Got the link. I’ll watch later.”

  “What if it’s back?” Beth asked, her voice a hushed whisper.

  Paul looked around his office, making sure he was alone in it. “Then we deal with it.” He wasn’t sure what that meant. “But I think we’ll find this isn’t related.”

  “I hope you’re right, Paul. I better go. Curfew is mandatory, and Isabelle’s working at Chuck’s tonight. I told her I’d pick her up,” Beth said.

  “Good. Go get your daughter,” Paul said, reminding him of his own girl.

  “Good night. Watch the report and let me know what you think.” The screen went dark, and Paul closed the window, opening the link from her email.

  He turned up the speakers.

  “I’m Henry Palmer for CHQ9, outside Red Creek, New York, where a young girl has been reported missing.” The camera switched to footage from outside a residence, and Paul squinted at it, recognizing the house in the video. It was from the same street he grew up on. Four houses over, if he was remembering it right.

  A local deputy was on camera, an unfamiliar face in a beige uniform. “Brittany Tremblay was last seen at dinner on the twentieth. According to her parents, Carol and Ben Tremblay, she went to her room to work on homework, and they didn’t see her again, thinking she’d gone to bed.”

  The reporter took the microphone over and paused for a second. “What about the rumors that you found her clothing in the family trash bin?”

  The deputy appeared stunned that he was asking about that. Those were clearly details not intended for public consumption. “That’s private information meant for the investigation. That’ll be all.”

  Clothes found. That didn’t sound like anything related to the orchard or to the shadow from Paul’s past. He breathed a little easier, until he thought about the poor girl who’d been abducted. It had been over twenty-four hours already, and Paul didn’t expect to hear a happy ending to the story. He closed the laptop and got up from his desk.

  He’d been working on a new book for the first time in a year. It was nice to be able to finally take a break from the ceaseless writing, but after months of twiddling his thumbs, and an apprehensive agent’s harassment, he’d decided it was time to get back on the horse.

  A soft knock pushed his office door open, and Terri poked her head in. “Are you coming to bed?”

  Paul smiled at her. After all these years, she still didn’t like to go to bed at separate times. She’d stay up working on some charity project or watching TV until he was done writing so they could lift the sheets and climb under them at the same moment. He liked it.

  “I was just on with Beth,” Paul said flatly.

  “This late?”

  “A girl was abducted in Red Creek.” He tried to keep his voice normal, but the name of his old town cracked anyway.

  It was difficult to tell in the softly-lit office entrance, but he thought Terri paled. “Are you sure?”

  “That’s what Beth said, and she sent me a report from a local station. Brittany Tremblay. I don’t know the family name, but the house was only a few away from mom’s place.” Paul crossed th
e room in a few swift steps.

  Terri’s hands found his chest, and she stared into his eyes with the gentle grace his wife always seemed to have. How had he gotten so lucky? “Is it… do you think…”

  Paul shook his head. “No. They found signs of abduction from her house. Some of the clothing she’d been wearing was left in the garbage can. I don’t think this is the work of the Smiths, or a shadow.”

  “Good. I mean, it’s terrible, but after all these years… are you okay to come to bed now?” Terri asked.

  Paul wasn’t sure what to think. His mind was racing from the news, but he couldn’t let his brain lead him into that alley again. It had taken a long time for his family to recover after the last time they’d been to Red Creek, and he hated to think it could still drag him down with it.

  They walked through the hall, and Paul stopped at a second bedroom door. “I’ll be right in.”

  Terri gave him a knowing expression and left him alone at his son’s door. He pushed it open, grinning at the night light casting its LED brightness over the dark room. Stevie was sleeping soundly, lying on his side, facing away from the door. His left arm swung up, touching the headboard. The kid always slept in a strange position. He took after his mother on that front.

  Paul knelt beside the bed and watched his son for a minute. He was turning eleven in a week. Where had the time gone? One day Terri was across the country in LA with Taylor, the next they were at Red Creek with him while it all happened. Fast forward twelve years and his daughter was at college, and his son had almost finished fifth grade.

  Paul made himself a promise as Stevie dozed. No matter what happened at Red Creek, he wouldn’t return, and he’d keep his family away from that place at all costs.

  Paul leaned over, kissed his son’s head, and went to bed. Terri looked ready to say something, but she didn’t. Instead, she lifted the sheets, motioning for him to join her.

  As he drifted off, he had the feeling that he should have texted Taylor about what happened. If she heard it from someone else, she’d over-worry. But the thought melted as sleep found him.

  _______________

  “You aren’t going home for the break? What are you talking about?” Brent asked her, his voice etched with concern.

  Taylor shifted the phone in her hand and lowered the speaker volume. “I have somewhere to go. My cousin needs me.”

  “Your cousin? The weird one from that crappy little town you never visit?” Brent was mad, that much she could tell, but she wasn’t going to let him railroad her.

  “Brent, watch it. She’s not weird, and yes, that crappy little town.”

  “I really don’t understand. I already bought the train ticket to go to Manhattan. I was going to meet your parents. Remember, dinner at Tavern and all of that?” he asked.

  “Of course I remember. Something came up. You know I have that uber-heavy research paper due in three weeks, right?” This was the perfect excuse.

  “Yeah. You were writing something about political funding corruption.” So he did listen when she told him things. That was good to know.

  “I’ve changed my mind. I…I have another subject now.” She still hadn’t told her dad she wasn’t coming home for spring break. He was going to be heartbroken. Taylor knew he had all sorts of things planned for them, including a private tour of the New York Public Library. He was so thrilled she had the writer’s bug and wanted to be a journalist. She was certain he hoped she’d turn that passion into fiction writing like he had, but that was a ways off, and Taylor wasn’t even sure if she had the skills necessary.

  Journalism was different to her. She could investigate things, uncover truths and long-buried details. The skills she’d been honing for the last year in classes at Bellton were going to come in handy when she went back to Red Creek. She was going to learn the truth her dad wanted to leave buried.

  “And what’s the subject? The downfall of small-town America in the modern globalization age?” Brent asked, sounding smarter than she normally gave him credit for. That was a good summary of a fake story.

  “Exactly. That’s why we’re so good together; you get me,” Taylor lied. Not about the good together part, but the understanding her. He rarely did.

  “Then I’ll come there. I’d love to live in the trenches for a week, watching you at work. I can be your driver,” Brent offered.

  It wasn’t a bad idea. She’d be staying with Isabelle and her aunt and uncle, but maybe they’d make room for Brent as well. It could be fun to have her boyfriend along for the ride. At the very least, he could make her feel safer than she would scouring the Creek alone. “Let me think about it,” Taylor said to her phone.

  She surveyed her dorm room and picked up some errant clothes off her bed, folding them up and sticking them into her suitcase. Spring break was two days away, but she wanted to get a head start, her midterms all over now. Tomorrow’s classes were useless, filler to give you work or readings for over the break, which, from what she was told, no one ever did. Even half of the professors bailed out early, so she decided to leave for Red Creek a day before she’d been planning on heading home.

  She still needed to tell her dad. After a deep breath, Taylor dialed his number. It was early, before her first class, and Karen had already left for the day.

  The phone rang three times before she got his voice mail. She thought about hanging up, but after being ready to spill the beans about not coming home, she was in panic mode.

  “Dad, it’s me. Taylor.” She felt stupid. He knew his daughter’s voice. She needed to get it together. “I have some bad news. They gave us a gigantic assignment right before break, and I’m already behind on the class. I can’t come home; there’ll be too many distractions. I’m really sorry. Maybe I’ll swing by for a day or two next weekend before classes start up again. Anyway, we’ll talk soon. Sorry. I was looking forward to spending time with you guys.” She was about to end the call, but she always ended their calls with his three favorite words. If she left them out now, he’d be suspicious. “I love you.”

  With that gargantuan task out of the way, she felt a little of the pressure ease from her incoming headache, and she continued packing for her stay in Red Creek. She hadn’t been there for twelve years, not even for Isabelle’s birthday parties. They had to have a separate party for her at their house when Aunt Beth could make the couple hours’ drive to Manhattan. It was so weird, but if Taylor’s vivid memories of that time were accurate, there was good reason.

  But her dad swore the Smiths were gone now. Conway, the old man who’d held a gun to her head, was dead, shot by a sheriff. Any time her father spoke of Sheriff Cliff, it was with the utmost respect and care. After hearing the tale again when she turned eighteen, she could visualize all of the events easily. Her dad, being a best-selling storyteller, hadn’t held any details back.

  She closed her eyes and could smell the damp room, feel the ropes around her wrists, and hear Vivaldi on the record player’s speakers.

  “Taylor?” someone asked, and Taylor’s eyes snapped open in a hurry. She blinked away tears, and ran a hand over them for good measure.

  “Karen, what’s up?” Taylor turned from her roommate, zipping up her suitcase.

  “Everything okay?” the other girl asked.

  “Sure. Just packing up. When are you leaving?” she asked Karen.

  “I’m sticking around, actually. My dad called last night, and he has to go out of town for work, so I decided to save the money from the flight and spend it on a new computer. He said that was fine,” Karen said. “How about you?”

  Taylor wasn’t sure what to tell her. “I’m heading out in the morning. Skipping tomorrow, I guess.”

  “Back home?” Karen asked.

  “No, but if my dad calls the school or anything, just tell him I’m out for a bit.” She hated to lie to her family, but she didn’t have a choice.

  Suddenly, the room felt too enclosed, and Taylor wondered what her dad had felt when he was a kid, tra
pped in the tunnels under Granny Smith’s Orchard. “I gotta run. Classes.” Taylor didn’t wait for Karen to say anything; she hastily grabbed her backpack and took off down the hall.

  Even though she was worried about what she might find, she found she couldn’t wait to get to Red Creek and finally face her fears.

  Three

  “What is it about coffee at a local sheriff’s office? Do they make special beans for you guys?” Detective Tom Bartlett asked the deputy. It had to be the second worst cup of joe he’d ever had.

  The man stood there, open-mouthed like a fish out of water. Tom was regretting picking up the case.

  “I don’t know what you mean. We buy it at the store like everyone else,” Deputy Rich Stringer answered.

  “Any idea when the sheriff will come by?” Tom asked, doing his best to ignore the ineptitude of the local department. There were only three employees in the little town, and Tom thought that might be overkill, but when he read up on the town’s checkered past, he guessed there was a reason for concern. If it were his town, he’d demand they had another set of able bodies.

  “Sheriff Tyler’s talking with the paper. Should be back any minute,” Deputy Rich said, and Tom slammed his cup to the desk.

  “I’ve had enough of this. Tell him to call me when he’s in,” Tom said, leaving the station. A bewildered middle-aged woman named Shirley sat behind a desk near the entrance, the desk phone ringing as he neared her.

  “Sheriff’s office,” she said, her voice throaty from years of smoking, Tom guessed. “I’ll see if he’s in.” The woman’s curly hair swayed as she lurched her head backwards. “Rich! Where’s the sheriff?”

  Tom answered for the deputy, keeping his voice at a normal level and cadence. “He’s not here. What’s the call regarding?”

  Tom didn’t want them to think he was overstepping any jurisdiction, but he’d been sent on this case as a favor. He’d much rather be in his own office at Gilden a town over, where time hadn’t been forgotten, and things like desk phones were a distant memory.