Page 23

I gaze at her for a moment. Her face, once so familiar and comforting, now seems distant, as if she’s a million miles away. She has worry lines that weren’t there before, and dark circles under her eyes, hinting at sleepless nights. “I’m not a kid anymore. I haven’t been a kid in a long time,” I remind her.

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her sunken eyes. “It sure used to be easier when you were.”

I sigh and stare around the busy room, half expecting to see Archer’s red dot somewhere. “I’m not staying. I only came here to tell you to quit calling me. Don’t contact me. Just leave this alone.”

She straightens her back and takes a sip of her black coffee. “Can’t do that, Layla, and you know it.” The barista drops off a fancy latte with a little leaf design on the foam. She knows I’m a sucker for fancy coffee. I cave and take a sip, if only because the wet rain made me bone-chillingly cold and I can smell the vanilla. “If my mom finds out I’m talking to you, she’ll be mad.” The smell and taste of coffee are heavenly.

Her lips twitch, a flash of sympathy, maybe? She, of all people, knows how my mother can be. “I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

I stare at her dead in the eye. “Why am I here?”

She shoves a folder across the table. “You need to see this.”

I sigh, opening the folder and sifting through the sheets. Old records, ledgers, death certificates, and clippings. Nonsensical. “What is this?”

“Proof. These Zodiac deaths have been happening a lot longer than I ever thought. These are records dating back to 1916 when Stormwood Lumber was founded.”

I refuse to look at them; I refuse to acknowledge what she is insinuating. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“These murders go all the way back,” she continues, pointing to a few clippings. I scan the headlines, but none of them mention actual murder.

April 24, 1922: Man dies by horse near Stormwood Lumber.

May 29, 1923: Lumber accident plagues Stormwood community.

June 15, 1924: Accidental drowning in Shikawa Lake, near Stormwood.

I swallow a surge of anger. “Sarah, you need to stop. Whatever you’re hinting at, it doesn’t make sense. None of these deaths have anything to do with what happened to me. I’m trying to rebuild my life, and this just confuses me.”

She leans back, crossing her arms, glancing down at my disheveled body. “From my vantage point, it looks like you’re failing miserably at rebuilding anything.”

“Regina is helping me,” I add, and Sarah’s entire demeanor changes at the mention of her childhood friend.

She takes another slow sip of her coffee, carefully choosing her words. “I’ve been a detective for a few years now. People who do bad things always feel better once they confess the truth. It will eat your soul if you let it fester.”

I slam my hand on the table. “Stop it,” I hiss, causing a few people to stare at us. “You weren’t the one taken and left alone in a dark hole for months. I don’t know what these articles mean, but I do know my mother won’t like them. Conspiracy theories won’t bring your father back,” I snap at her. A subtle, empty threat that lands a punch.

After a moment of tense silence, she asks, “You weren’t alone in that bunker, were you?”

A deep ache hits my chest. I try to mask the emotion that overwhelms me. The same eruption I get every time I think of the Archer. I push away her papers. “I should go. I’ve already been here longer than I should have.”

She grabs my hand to stop me. Her eyes are tight and haunted. “You have to trust me, Layla. You know what I’m saying is true. Something’s going on, isn’t it? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you know. This isn’t over, you’re in more danger than you’ve ever been.”

I pull on my coat. “I have to go.”

Her eyes grow frantic. “Layla, please listen. I’m not your enemy, and I’ve never been an enemy to you or your mother. Especially to you. The moment I learned you were missing, I never stopped searching, I never gave up hope that you were alive. I sure as shit don’t intend to stop keeping you safe now.”

“That’s the only reason I’m not calling the police right now. Just let this go.”

Her eyes flicker up to mine. “Toby Myers was an innocent man. I don’t believe he had anything to do with your disappearance. Whoever took you is still out there…and he’s meticulous.”

My heart thuds against my ribs. Tell her what is happening to me. Show her the ribbon. I can’t bring myself to say anything, so I snap my mouth shut.

I shift my attention and notice a man watching me from the corner of the restaurant, pretending to look at his phone. He has a hood over his head and face, so I can’t get a good look at him. But I also can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen him before. Recently. Although he could be a reporter. My face has been appearing on those sleazy websites.

Detective Crawley is still staring at me. “Do you have someone watching me?” I ask.

She tilts her head, her ponytail swinging. “No. I’m on my own. Why?”