First Girl Gone(94)

When the car door slammed shut, she peeked out through the steering wheel again.

A dark figure stepped away from the car. A man bundled in a puffy coat, hat pulled down low over his brow. He hunched forward, something she interpreted as a reaction to the cold. His feet punched through the snow, taking slow steps at first and then speeding up as he made it to the sidewalk. After looking both ways, he veered into the park, not heading straight for the gazebo but instead making his way along a path toward the stream and trees on the east side of the park. If she remembered right, there was a place along the trail there that would be a perfect position for spying on the gazebo.

Charlie’s breathing grew faster and faster, hitting top speed as the dark shape disappeared into the elongated shadows under the trees.





Chapter Seventy-Six





With numb hands, Charlie thumbed the button on the walkie-talkie.

“Subject looks to be an adult male, around six feet tall. He just entered the park on foot,” she said.

“Holy shit. This is really happening.”

“Zoe, listen. This might be him, or it might be nothing. You stay there and keep watch in case it’s the latter,” she said. “I lost him in the shadows down along the stream, so I’m going in for a look. If I’m not back in, let’s say, seven minutes, come in after me.”

“Charlie, wait—”

But Charlie turned down the walkie-talkie before Zoe could finish her sentence. She needed silence now. No debates. No interruptions. Absolute quiet.

She stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her with a delicate touch. Then she shoved the walkie-talkie into her coat pocket and drew her gun.

She hurried across the street and into the park. Light on her feet. Soundless.

She slipped into the long shadows under the trees, all those limbs reaching out across the ground, blocking out the light. The dark place enveloped her, welcoming her. She knew he must be close. Closer than ever.

Her breath came soft and shallow. In through the lips and out through the nostrils. Trying to stay ever so quiet.

Her skin crawled as she pressed into the darkest of the gloom, and she slowed, no longer able to see much. Ambiguous shapes occupied the space ahead. Hulking contours blacker than the rest. Crooked. Fragmented. She knew she must be seeing tree trunks and brush and maybe some park benches or fencing, but her eyes couldn’t make sense of any of them just now. She saw only sinister forms in the murk. Malevolent. Menacing.

The gun trembled at the end of her outstretched arm. She kept it angled down, the muzzle pointed toward the cement pathway sprawling out in front of her, the one thing she could still faintly see. The dark concrete aisle snaked through the snow, led her to wherever she was going.

Something writhed in the shadows to her left, and Charlie froze. Raised the gun. Squinted to try to make it out. Strange ripples stirring in gloom.

Her lips moved as though to call out, to ask whoever it was to reveal themselves. But she held her tongue. Something didn’t feel right. Some part of her knew that she should know what she was looking at this time, something familiar in the way it moved.

Water. The fluttering she sensed was the trickle of the stream, not all the way frozen just yet. As soon as she recognized it for what it was, she could hear the little hiss it made. A whispered murmur without end.

And then she saw him. The figure. The man. He stepped out of the shadows and into the light, walking away from her, hands tucked in the pockets of his puffy coat. His back fully to her, an air of comfort about him, something confident in the way he moved. He didn’t know she was there.

She followed, closing on him, still soundless. A crazy feeling came over her as she drew closer and closer. Half-terrified. Half-empowered. As though she were some lioness on the prowl just now. Hunting. Stalking another kill. Taking what belonged to her.

She got to within fifteen feet of him, and the details started to fill in on his person like a camera going into sharper focus. The texture and movement of the hair protruding from the back of his stocking hat. The stitched seams carving out the puffed bubbles on his jacket. The clouds of steam venting from his nose when he exhaled.

His head pivoted to look upon the gazebo off to their left, shadows of branches dappling over him as he moved. Chin tilting up and then down as he took it in, giving it a good, long look. Charlie’s heart jumped at that. Further confirmation, wasn’t it? This was the guy, staking out the place. Waiting for her and Zoe to arrive.

He moved into the clearing, finally out from under the last of the shadows, and in that moment, the distinct angle of his nose was cast in sharp relief against the moonlight shimmering down there. Light and darkness conspired to reveal that aquiline bump just lower than his brow. Charlie recognized the profile.

Will Crawford.





Chapter Seventy-Seven





Charlie’s breath caught in her throat, some emotion reaching up to choke her. Clasping its crooked fingers so tightly that the sting brought tears to her eyes.

Shock. That’s what this feeling was, some distant part of her knew. Shock and horror. That detached feeling came over her again, just like all those times before. Her legs tottered beneath her, deadened and numb. Somehow still holding her up.

And this strange sensation dislodged memories from way down deep, flooded them up from the darkness. She’d felt this before—an overwhelming disgust and loathing and disbelief—when Allie had disappeared. All those sleepless nights, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, inconsolable. All those eerie moments when she’d ventured into their empty bedroom, felt the absence in the hush of the space, felt the lack of Allie there in a visceral way like the hollow feeling she got after a punch in the stomach.