All the Missing Girls(41)

Maybe if she were here now, they’d find out what happened to Annaleise.

The facts. The facts were difficult to see clearly. The facts were like the view from our porch—shadows in darkness and shapes you could conjure up from fear itself.



* * *



THERE WAS SOMETHING OUT there. Feet crunching leaves, getting louder, moving closer—someone running. Adrenaline propelled me to my feet as the blood rushed to my head. The footsteps were moving faster, approaching from my left. I held my breath, strained to see, but whoever it was remained hidden inside the tree line. He continued past my house, the leaves crunching under his steps at a steady pace before an extended pause as he leaped across the creek that had long ago dried up, onto Carter land.

I looked for my phone—inside—and thought of the time it would take for someone else to get here. The footsteps fading as I debated what to do.

Go.

I was quick through the grass, but my bare feet recoiled as I entered the woods, turning my steps tentative. I bit back a yelp as a sharp twig caught my ankle, and I held on to a tree, listening for the sound of footsteps. Nothing but silence now. Had he heard me? Was he gone?

I held my breath, gripping the tree, and counted to twenty.

Still no sound.

I stepped carefully, pausing every few seconds to listen, until I reached the hill between our property and the Carters’. I crouched low, climbing the hill on my hands and knees, trying to get a better view of the place through the trees.

There. A light. A shadow moving in front of the gap between the shades from inside the converted studio. I moved closer, sidestepping down the hill. The light was dim—not strong enough to be coming from a lamp, just a flicker through the shades. A flashlight, a television screen, a computer, maybe.

I sneaked closer, but the shades moved aside and the shadow peered out. The way the moonlight angled into the window caught the eyes, set off a glow, and I closed my own eyes in case they were doing the same. I slid behind the nearest tree, kept my back pressed against the trunk, and tried to slow my breathing.

A door latched, a lock turned—the other person was outside now. I heard movement in the leaves, circling around. Slowly at first, coming closer. And then faster, moving away, into the distance.

I waited for minutes, maybe longer, before heading back to my house, my legs shaking, my feet numb to the trail. Someone had been in Annaleise’s place in the middle of the night. Someone who knew the woods well. Someone who had a key. Someone who could run in the dark by heart.



* * *



THE SHOWER RAN COLD, and I wasn’t sure whether I was shaking from the temperature or the leftover adrenaline. But the water felt good. The heat of the day had already begun, and I hadn’t even started looking for someone to fix the air-conditioning. Tyler had said it was probably the condenser fan, but Daniel wanted a second opinion. A real opinion, was what he actually said.

I got dressed, started a pot of coffee, sank into a kitchen chair, and rested my head on my arms while it brewed. I tried to lull my mind, empty it, drift off into a worry-free oblivion. But I had to try to catch Tyler before he left. I had to look into his eyes when I asked. I had to know.

Just one more minute. Just a moment, and then I’d go.



* * *



THE COFFEE WAS LUKEWARM by the time I pulled myself from the table. Shit. I downed a quick cup instead of breakfast and hopped in the car, driving straight to Kelly’s Pub.

Tyler’s truck was already gone, but I could see the dim lights from the pub through the dirty window. Jackson’s bike was in the back lot, like always. Though it was a Wednesday morning, there were a few men at the bar already. Whiskey in a glass. Beer in a bottle. And a bowl of mixed nuts on the counter between them.

The bell rang as I pushed through the front door. Jackson locked eyes with me from behind the bar. “Can I help you with something?”

When I got closer, I could see he was biting back a smirk. “God, do you work here all the time?” I asked.

“It’s my job,” he said, rough hands pressed flat against the counter, leaning so his muscles strained against his T-shirt, the tattoos on his forearms rippling with life. His nails were bitten down to the quick, and I couldn’t tell whether his fingertips were stained with liquor or nicotine. “By the way, you missed him by a few hours.” He said this without looking me in the eye.

Jackson and I were always cautious with each other. Even when his words carried the weight of a threat, they were buried under something else. I knew too much of him, and he of me. Too much we learned about each other and Corinne during the investigation. It was only after she disappeared that I realized how little my best friend had shared with me. When I couldn’t find the answers to the exacting questions from Hannah Pardot. What did she think of her parents? What did she say about Jackson? Did you know she had plans to meet him? What was she asking him about in this message? I could only answer the hypotheticals. Those, I knew. Would she have gone off with someone she just met? Would she run away? Would she take your boyfriend and pretend it was for your own good?

But the What was her state of mind? The things with substance—the tangible, real answers—those were elusive. I knew only the Corinne who existed in the hypotheticals, the theoretical possibilities: would she, could she, might she.

It wasn’t until Hannah Pardot broke her open that I knew all of her. Corinne Prescott: more real presumed dead than alive.