“A state forest is a big area to search. When do you think they’ll want volunteers?”
“I’d guess tomorrow morning,” she says. “The crime scene and surrounding area will be processed today. Our people are out there looking. But there’s rain forecast for this afternoon. Having dozens of people tramping through the woods andpossibly disturbing any evidence won’t matter so much after that.”
I just nod.
“But you have to know, given the situation, your presence could well be more of a hindrance than a help.” She heads for the front door. “Thank you for your time, Miss Walsh.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Small rituals help me not to panic. Because losing my shit won’t solve anything. Some of the coping mechanisms are things I learned in therapy. Taking deep even breaths as I redo the locks on the door. Setting my back against it and focusing on this safe space. Concentrating on the things I can control. The reporters are outside and can’t get in—not if I don’t let them. And any relevant information has been shared with the detective. There’s nothing more I can do right now to help Grace and that absolutely sucks.
I can’t wait to put in some time with my punching bag. To work out the anger and frustration. They might have a valid point about me and violence.
Noah is still sitting on the lounge chair. It’s a special sort of magic how the sight of him calms me. Though it’s the steady gaze that really gets me. Seems he has a settling effect on the dog too since the very good boy Auggie is asleep on his lap. Which is handy. We don’t need him growling or barking at our unwanted visitors and making the situation any more stressful than it already is.
“Never been someone’s alibi before,” says Noah.
“Fun, huh?” I give him the weakest of smiles. Just truly pathetic.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Sid.”
“She’ll never have a chance to get her life together and figure out a new version of happy. It’s why she said she came here. And I mean…obviously that wasn’t all of it. But it felt like some of it was the truth.”
He nods somberly.
“The similarities between her death and last time…leaving her car in the same park. Her hair being long. Maybe I am just being paranoid, but—”
“I highly doubt that.”
“A woman going missing now in this way almost makes it look like Ryan either wasn’t responsible, or at least not solely responsible, for what happened to Briana Petersen.”
He thinks it over for a moment. “If I hadn’t been here last night his bullshit story about you being the killer might have suddenly looked a whole lot more likely.”
The man is absolutely right and I don’t know what to do about that. But I settle for checking the messages in the group chat on my phone.
Muriel: They’re linking you to an abandoned car and missing woman. Call me.
Me: Cop was just here. It’s my cousin Grace.
Muriel: Just saw that in an online chat. I am so sorry.
Hana: Are you ok?
Me: Yeah.
Hana: Security footage of her leaving her motel room and getting into her car last night has been leaked.
Me: Cop confirmed signs of a struggle at her car. Don’t think they know much else.
Muriel: Should we come over?
Me: Reporters out front. Better not.
Hana: :(
“It isn’t your fault,” says Noah. “Whatever’s happened to your cousin.”
“I know. I just wish she’d gone back to New York. But if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Grandma used to say that all the time. I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about when I was little. Though I figured it had something to do with free ponies and I was down with that.” Just watch me babble my heart out due to stress. Meanwhile my fingers are busy picking at the stitching in the hem of my tee.
