“You can’t hurt me,” I spit, yanking my arm from his grip. I push my stool back, stand up, and watch as he tries to lunge at me—but instead, he stumbles forward, clumsy. His knees buckling under the sudden pressure of his weight. I watch as he trips on the leg of the barstool, his body crumbling to a heap on the floor. He looks at me, confused, before looking up at the countertop. At his empty glass of wine, that hollow orange bottle.
“Did you—？”
He starts to speak, but then stops again, the effort suddenly too much. I think back to the last time I felt that way, the way Cooper does now—it was that night in the motel room, Tyler pulling on his jeans, ducking into the bathroom. The glass of water he had pushed in my direction, forcing me to drink. The pills that were later found in those very pockets. The pills he had mixed into the water, the same way I had mixed mine into Cooper’s wine, watching as his eyes had gotten so heavy so quickly. The violent yellow bile I had coughed up the next morning.
I don’t bother with a response. Instead, I look up at the ceiling, at the camera in the corner, as small as a pinprick, blinking gently. Recording everything. I raise my hand and gesture for them to come inside now—Detective Thomas, sitting in his car outside with Daniel, phone in his lap. Watching everything, listening to it all.
I look down at my brother again, one last time. The last time it will ever be just us two. It’s hard not to think of the memories—running through the woods behind our house, tripping on the mangled roots erupting from the soil like fossilized snakes. The way he would wipe the blood from my skinned knees, push a strip of gauze tight against my stinging skin. The way he had tied that rope to my ankle as I crawled deep into that hidden cavern, our secret spot—and suddenly, I know that’s where they are. The missing girls, hidden in plain sight. Pushed deep into the darkness, somewhere only we would know.
I picture that dark figure I had seen emerging from the trees, shovel in hand: Cooper, always tall for fifteen, muscular from years of wrestling. His head ducked low, the darkness obscuring his face. The shadows swallowing him up—until, at last, he had turned into nothing.
JULY 2019
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
A cool breeze whips through my open windows, sending wisps of my hair dancing into the skylight, grazing against my cheek. The glare of the setting sun feels warm on my skin, but still—it’s unusually crisp today. Friday, July 26.
My wedding day.
I look down at the directions in my lap, a series of turns that end in a single address written on scrap paper. I glance through my windshield at the long driveway stretching out before me, the mailbox with four copper numbers hammered into wood. I take the turn, dust kicking up from my tires until I pull up in front of a small house—red brick, green shutters. Hattiesburg, Mississippi.
I step out of my car, slam the door. Then I walk up the driveway, up the steps, and reach out my hand, knocking twice on a thick slab of pinewood painted a pale green with a wreath made of straw hung squarely in the center. I hear footsteps from inside, the gentle murmur of voices. The door swings open, and a woman stands before me. She wears simple jeans and a white tank top, slippers on her feet. There’s a casual smile on her face, a dish towel slung over her bare shoulder.
“Can I help you?”
She stares at me for a second, unsure of who I am, until I see the moment of understanding in her eyes. The moment her polite smile begins to fade as she recognizes my face. I inhale the familiar scent I had smelled on Daniel so many times—sickly sweet, like a honeysuckle in bloom mixed with molten sugar. I can still see the little girl I had seen in that school picture: Sophie Briggs, her frizzy blonde hair now gelled into ringlet curls, a constellation of freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, as if somebody had taken a pinch and sprinkled them on like salt.
“Hi,” I say, suddenly self-conscious. I linger on the porch, wondering what Lena would have looked like if she had been given the opportunity to grow up. I like to pretend that she’s out there, somewhere, tucked away like Sophie has been, safe in her own little corner of the world.
“Daniel’s inside.” She twists her torso, gesturing to the door. “If you’d like—”
“No.” I shake my head, my cheeks flushing hot. Daniel moved out right after Cooper was arrested, and for some reason, it hadn’t dawned on me that he would have come here. “No, that’s okay. I’m actually here for you.”
I reach out my hand, my engagement ring pinched between my fingers. It had been returned to me by the police last week, found on the floor of Tyler Price’s car. She doesn’t say anything as she reaches out and grabs it, twisting it between her fingers.