“It’s all right, Ryan. You’re safe. You’re here with me. Just breathe.”
Flashes of that night play through my mind. The frantic packing. My confusion. The fear.
“What is this? Why do you have this?”
“She’s screaming at him,” I whisper.
“Your mother?”
“She’s screaming. And shaking. She’s waving something in his face.”
“Where are you, Ryan? Try to look around.”
My heartbeat is out of control. I try to focus on the scene, but it’s blurry. I see…the suitcase. The items strewn on the floor. She dropped them when he interrupted her.
“This is Leah’s! She was wearing it the night of the Starling Christmas parade. And those drawings of Anabel White!”
A desperate, animalistic wail reverberates through my head.
“Why was there blood on those sketchbooks? What have you done, Gabriel! What have you fucking done!”
“I don’t want to be here,” I whimper.
Panic shoots through me, making it impossible to remain in a relaxed state. Sensing that, Dr.Wilmer guides me back, her voice bringing me out of the visualization, grounding me in the room.
When I open my eyes, the sensation is almost surreal, as if I’ve just crossed back over from another world.
“How do you feel?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I was hoping…” I trail off, swallowing my disappointment. “I wanted a location.”
“I know. But as I told you, this process is not about forcing anything. If and when a memory surfaces, it will come naturally. If you find yourself having strange or lucid dreams over the next few days, don’t be alarmed. Sometimes that happens with this process. A memory might also hit you out of nowhere—that’s also normal.”
I tune her out, too upset to focus. I’ve never been much of an optimist, but I truly believed this would work. That I would close my eyes and somehow have a memory of my father telling me where the bodies are.
I should’ve known better, though. Nothing in my life ever just…works.
thirty-two
Floating
I’m not in a party mood. I probably wouldn’t have been in a party mood on agoodday, but the night after a hypnosis session in which I remembered how my mother discovered my father was a sadistic murderer? No thank you. But saying no to my cousin is an exercise in futility, which is why I allow Jasmine to bully me into it.
The lakeside is swarming with people by the time we arrive. A bonfire casts flickering light across the sand. Music thumps from someone’s truck while a handful of kids dance in front of it, swaying and laughing, the headlights serving as their own personal spotlight. A couple of kegs are stationed near the trees, red cups being passed between hands like currency.
As we approach the party, I stare out at the lake. It’s endless and black, the surface still and gleaming under the moonlight.
Jasmine tosses her curls over her shoulder, waving at some girls by the water. Nikki is among them, wearing denim shorts and a bikini top despite the fact that it’s barely fifty degrees out.
“Let’s go say hi to Gillian and Nikki.” Jasmine tugs on my hand.
“You go. I want to grab a drink.”
After she flounces off, I search the faces in the crowd, and my heart skips a beat when I glimpse Chase on the other side of the bonfire. He leans against a tree, watching me in that unnerving way of his, as if his silver eyes are seeing right through every layer I try to hide behind.
The air seems to crackle, a charge growing between us across the sandy expanse.
Finally, he straightens and walks over, his slow, deliberate pace only adding to the tension twisting in my stomach.
