people who matched Shane’s description. Although she still hadn’t given up, her results weren’t any better than the sheriff’s. But her resolve was.
Maybe it was her own guilt that kept her searching. Or, a deep-seated need to give their mother closure.
Rebecca rummaged through her bag, desperate to locate her cell, and found nothing. It must’ve fallen out of her purse. The sheriff’s office was nearby. She’d have to drive to the station to file a complaint against her attacker. She cursed. No way could she get there in time for them to take her information and then catch him. He’d be long gone, most likely already was. She fisted her hand and thumped the steering wheel.
If her on-air mention of Shane hadn’t rattled any chains, the media might have. Every year before the festival the local paper ran some kind of article referencing Shane’s disappearance. This year being the fifteenth anniversary had brought out the wolves. A reporter had been waiting in the parking lot at work two weeks ago, trying to score an interview. He’d said he wanted a family member’s perspective. She’d refused and then gone to the sheriff to ask for protection. Again, they did nothing to stop the intrusion, saying no laws had been violated.
Even Charles Alcorn, the town’s wealthiest resident, had reached out to her. He’d helped with the search years ago and said he’d like to offer assistance again. What could he do that hadn’t already been done?
This time, the sheriff’s office couldn’t ignore her. They would have to do something. The attack was concrete and too close for comfort. The man had shown up out of nowhere. She’d been so focused on getting away that she hadn’t thought to see if he’d retreated to a car. A make and model, a license plate, would give the sheriff something to go on.
Her best chance at seeing him behind bars, overdue justice for her brother, had just slipped away. If that was him, a little voice inside her head reminded.
Did he have her cell phone? A cold chill ran down her back.
Wait a minute. Couldn’t the sheriff track him using GPS?
Anger balled inside her as she drove the couple of blocks to the sheriff’s office. What if they didn’t believe her?
She hadn’t physically been there in years, and yet she could still recall the look of pity on Sheriff Randall Brine’s face the last time she’d visited. His gaze had fixed on her for a couple seconds, contemplating her. Then, he’d said, “Have you thought about getting away for a little while? Maybe take a long vacation?”
“I’m fine,” she’d said, but they both knew she was lying.
“I know,” he’d said too quickly. “I was just thinking how nice it’d be to walk through the surf. Eat fresh seafood for a change.” Deep circles cradled his dark blue eyes and he looked wrung out. She’d written it off as guilt, thinking she was probably the last person he wanted to see. Was she a reminder of his biggest failure? Then again, it seemed no one wanted to see her around. “We’ve done everything we can. I wish I had better news. I’ll let you know if we get any new information.”
“But—”
His tired stare had pinned her before he picked up his folder and refocused on what he’d been reading before she’d interrupted him.
Rebecca had wanted to stomp her feet and make a scene to force him to listen to her. In her heart, she knew he was right. And she couldn’t depend on the sheriff to investigate every time something went bump in the night or a complete stranger reminded her of him.
Somehow, life had to go on.
Heaven knew her parents, overwrought with grief, had stopped talking to each other and to their friends. Instead of real conversation, there’d been organized searches, candlelight vigils and endless nights spent scouring fields.
When search teams thinned and then disappeared altogether, there’d been nothing left but despair. They’d divorced a year following Shane’s disappearance. Her dad had eventually remarried and had two more children, both boys. And her mother never forgave him for it. She’d limited visitation, saying she was afraid Rebecca would feel awkward.
After, both parents had focused too much attention on Rebecca, which had smothered her. There’d been two and a half years of endless counseling and medication until she’d finally stood up to them. No more, she’d said, wanting to be normal again, to feel ordinary. And even though she’d returned to a normal life after that, nothing was ever normal again.
Although the monster hadn’t returned, he’d left panic, loneliness and the very real sense that nothing would ever be okay again.
Since then, she’d had a hard time letting anyone get close to her, especially men. The one person who’d pushed past her walls in high school, Brody, had scared her more than her past. He’d been there that night. He’d stepped forward and said she was meeting him to give him back a shirt he had to have for camp so she wouldn’t have to betray her friends. Her mother had never forgiven him. He’d been the one person Rebecca could depend on, who hadn’t treated her differently, and he deserved so much more than she could give. Even as a teenager she’d known Brody deserved more.
Separating herself from him in high school had been the right thing to do, she reminded herself. Because every time she’d closed her eyes at night, fear that the monster would return consumed her. Every dark room she’d stood in front of had made her heart pound painfully against her chest. Every strange sound had caused her pulse to race.
And time hadn’t made it better.
She often wondered if things would have turned out differently if she’d broken the pact and told authorities the real reason they’d been out.
Probably not. She was just second-guessing herself again. None of the kids had been involved.
Once Shane had been discovered following her, they’d broken up the game and gone home. Nothing would’ve changed.
Rebecca refocused as she pulled into a parking spot at the sheriff’s office. By the time she walked up the steps to the glass doors, she’d regained some of her composure.
The deputy at the front desk acknowledged her with a nod. She didn’t recognize him and figured that was good. He might not know her, either.
“How can I help you?”
“I need to speak to the sheriff.”
“Sorry. He’s not in. I’m Deputy Adams.” The middle-aged man offered a handshake. “Can I help you?”
“I need to report an assault. I believe it could be connected to a case he worked a few years ago.” She introduced herself as she shook his hand.
The way his forehead bunched after he pulled her up in the database made her figure he was assessing her mental state. Her name must’ve been flagged. He asked a few routine-sounding questions, punched the information into the keyboard and then folded his hands and smiled. A sympathetic look crossed his features. “I’ll make sure the report is filed and on the sheriff’s desk as soon as he arrives.”
Deputy Adams might be well intentioned, but he wasn’t exactly helpful. His response was similar as she reported her missing phone.
Not ready to accept defeat, she thanked him, squared her shoulders and headed into the hot summer sun.
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