Page 66 of Nowhere Good

“Yeah, you didn’t know? My sister loves her candles. Makes them all herself, so you know it’s with love.”

“Huh.”

He supposed there were a lot of things he didn’t know about Claire Dyer.

Ignoring that thought, he took out his phone again. “You see the news today?”

Clementine shook her head, her jaw tightening a fraction.

Seth showed her the composite sketch on his phone. Unlike Ron or Dillon, Clementine’s face showed a flicker of something. Maybe recognition, maybe dread.

“Do you recognize this person?” Seth asked.

Clementine shook her head a little too quickly. “Don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so, or you don’t?”

“I—I don’t. I mean, hell, it’s only a pair of eyes, really. I don’t know them.”

“If they’re familiar to you at all, even slightly, it could be useful. Are you sure this doesn’t look like anybody you know?”

Clementine checked again, her freckled face betraying her nerves. But she shook her head, and Seth tucked the phone away. There wasn’t much else he could do.

“Sorry, Detective. Wish I could help. I’ll keep an eye out, though, ’kay? I’ll ask some of my girlfriends.”

“I appreciate it. Good luck with the booth.” Seth went to turn away, but something stopped him. He glanced back at the candles on the table—the strawberry one. That happened to be his favorite fruit. Before he could think better of it, he fished his wallet from his pocket, then brandished a twenty-dollar bill. “Hey, let me grab one of those.”

Clementine wore a tight smile. “You betcha.”

C’mon, c’mon, where are you?

Claire rummaged through her dad’s dresser, reminding herself of a rat foraging for scraps. She’d checked everything in this room—the nooks and crannies of every drawer, the corners of the closet, but nothing turned up.

Wherever it was, it wasn’t in this room anymore, and defeat slammed on her shoulders. She perched on the edge of the bed, cramming her palms into her eyes. Breathe. Just breathe.

She’d had so much riding on the necklace—everything, in fact. It was her ticket. Her physical evidence. Her emotions overwhelmed her, a flooding tide. She couldn’t afford to lose face like this.

Outside the window, sunset settled over the farm. Dust motes floated in the honey light. Maybe Seth would still listen to her without the necklace. But try as she might to talk herself down, she still felt like without it, she was nothing more than a paranoid girl, a child still, who no one would believe.

Either way, she had to get back to the booth soon before it started getting dark.

Claire put everything back into place and left her dad’s room. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she peeked to her left, into the empty house. The closed door to the basement solidified into view.

Evidence. That word kept swimming in her head like a sea of fish.

She could hardly even remember what the basement looked like. She’d never gone down there unless she was put down there.

But the cage had to be there. Somewhere.

Claire found her feet inching toward the basement door, her breath caught in her throat. With every step, she grew shaky, cold, and then she was right in front of the wooden door, staring at it.

Her body remembered.

Then she did too.

The bars. Water. Drowning.

She stared, frozen, shaking, letting the memories rush past her like ice water.