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The only quotes Cora knew were from dark songs tattooed on her ankle. Her hair was sheered on one side, left shoulder-length on the other. And her sea gray eyes stormed far more than the sunlight over the rural town might have otherwise allowed.
“I came back, didn’t I?” Cora said, still yelling and hating herself for it. She paused, bit her lip, and calmed. “I came back,” she repeated, quieter now. “Didn’t I?”
Her mother had tears in her eyes as she stared at Cora. “He didn’t meanyouwere a mooch. He just meant in general.”
Cora’s sympathy shifted. It was so difficult with her mother. She truly believed the woman thought her husband hadn’t meant to insult Cora. It was strange the hoops one could jump through to ignore the truth.
But Cora wasn’t in a jumping mood.
The conversation at breakfast had escalated quickly. Going sleeveless and showing her many tattoos had likely been the start of it. And she, admittedly, hadknownwhat she was doing. She hadn’t had a pill or a drink in a while, though. And her nerves were frayed.
Still, she’d been the one to pick the fight, she supposed. Using her tattoos, which her parents had never approved of, as just a small middle finger to their quiet, rural way of life. Her parents were older now.Smaller. Frailer.Things had changed ever since Cora’s sister had disappeared. Her family now was mostly going through the motions.
Part of her had just wanted to jolt them out of it. But theyhadbeen nice enough to let her stay on the spare bed in the garage and to eat breakfast with them.
She had picked the fight.
But he had called her a mooch: a criminal-in-the making. He had pestered her again and again about what she’d been up to.
The first day back, and her father couldn’t find a kind word to say even if it pooped in his coffee.
And now her mother—crying and rewriting history all to keep the peace. But the truth? No...no, her mother couldn’t face the truth.
“God dammit!” Cora said. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
Instead of reacting to the apology, though, Cora’s mother went still. She froze in place. Even those quaint silver curls stopped bouncing. “Donotuse the Lord’s name in vain!” she yelled.
Cora sighed. She’d been trying to apologize. She’d been trying to humble herself. But no...of course.God dammit.She thought.
She gave a little wave. “Sorry,” she called. And then she turned and marched to the motorbike that she’d parked at the edge of the driveway in a muddy section. She hadn’t even wanted to bring the bike near the house. This also, she supposed, would only infuriate her old man.
She turned, watching where her mother just stood in the door with tears in her eyes. But the woman didn’t call out, and she didn’t come after Cora.
And that had always been the problem, hadn’t it?
Her old man’s temper. Her mother’s minimizing. Cora’s rebellion.
One big happy family. Well...minus Cora’s sister. Rose Shields had been two years younger than Cora. She could still picture the golden, curly hair and the dimpled smile. She could still remember that horrible night, years ago, when Rose had disappeared. She was only in high school at the time.
Cora straddled her motorbike, giving a wave that started out as sarcastic but ended in a flutter and another surge of guilt. She rode away from the farmhouse, picked up speed, and hastened down the ruined road. Her scowl only deepened as her hands gripped the handles of the bike.
She hadn’t come to West Virginia to be yelled at and insulted. She hadn’t come to pick at old scabs.
But some old wounds hadn’t scabbed yet. Some would never scar, never heal unless dealt with directly.
In partthatwas the reason Cora had come back home. She picked up speed, wind whipping about her. She wore no helmet, and her sleeveless t-shirt billowed, caught by the wind and puffing out like an astronaut’s suit.
Reconciling with her parents was only part of the mission. Ever since being fired from her job at the FBI, and the exhilaration of the mission she had done off books in order to rescue the daughter of an old friend, Cora had found herself filled with renewed purpose. No pills and no drink, not for a week.
But she had to keep moving. If she stayed still, the memories came back. As this thought crossed her mind, she frowned, scowling at the road as the bike chewed through the pavement. Memories of pain. Of explosions. Capture. Torture. Escape. Memories of another life, full of adrenaline, danger, and action. As a Navy SEAL, one of the few women who had ever made the cut, Cora hadn’t just lived with a chip on her shoulder, she lived with a boulder.
She was here, in the rural town, for another reason. As she sped up the road, away from her home, she spotted the old basketball court off to her left, and the lush soccer field that belonged to the small brown-brick high school. A school she remembered. Some of the memories fond, but everything had gone bleak when Rose disappeared.
And now she was back, determined to use this newly discovered momentum to find out once and for all what had happened to her baby sister. Her best friend. And one clue stood out above the others. Cora had been keeping an eye on her sister over the weekend when she went missing. Rose had wanted to sneak out and visit her boyfriend, but Cora had refused.
The boyfriend had told the police that he had nothing to do with it.
He had said that Rose didn’t see him. But Rose was a determined person when she put her mind to something. Cora was the same.
