Page 62 of Knox

“I’m so sorry,” Sloane whispered.

Mrs. Lake wiped her eyes, then pulled herself together with visible effort. “Let me show you her journal. Maybe something in there can help you stop him before he takes anyone else.”

Mrs. Lake stood and crossed to a bookshelf, pulling down a journal with a worn leather cover. “This is Sarah’s hiking journal. She kept meticulous notes about every trail she hiked, every trip she took. The police have copies of the relevant pages, but they said I could keep the original. They brought me all of Sarah’s things from the room she rented on the island that weekend.”

She handed the journal to me with trembling hands. “The last entries are from her trip to Carolina Bay. She was so excited. She’d been planning the time away for months.”

I opened the journal carefully, Sloane leaning close to read over my shoulder. Sarah’s handwriting was looping and enthusiastic, full of exclamation points and detailed observations.

August 19 – I’m back in Carolina Bay! Place is GORGEOUS. Stopped at Island Adventures to get trail recs. Owner (Claire) was amazing. Made me a custom map with all the best spots for me to check out. She was so warm and welcoming - exactly the kind of person who makes you fall in love with a place. Bought fresh pepper spray and a whistle. I can’t wait to get started.

August 20 - Hiked Highland Woods this morning. Trail was perfect - well-marked, beautiful maritime forest. Saw deer, tons of birds. Met a local guide at the trailhead who offered to show me some more remote areas tomorrow. Seems to really know his stuff. Says there are hidden ponds and secret beaches most tourists never find. Gave me his card.

My pulse kicked up. “Did the police ever find this card? The one from the guide?”

Mrs. Lake shook her head. “No, but Sarah’s backpack was never recovered. Her phone, her wallet, everything she’d have had with her on the hike disappeared when she did.”

I flipped to the next entry.

August 21 – Why do weekend trips go so fast? Visiting the maritime forest soon. Found a cool shell on the porch. Feels like a great start to my last day here.

“That was the last time I talked to her,” Mrs. Lake said, her voice breaking. “She called that morning, and we talked for almost an hour. She was nervous. The crowds were thick in town, and she felt a little uncomfortable. I told her to trust her instincts, to stay in populated areas.” Mrs. Lake wiped at her eyes. “She disappeared later that same day.”

“Knox?” Sloane’s hand found mine, squeezing hard.

“What’s wrong?”

“The shell.”

I looked up at Mrs. Lake. “What kind of shell did Sarah find?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

I pulled out my phone and showed her the photo of the scotch bonnet from Sloane’s coffee table. “Did it look like this?”

Mrs. Lake went very still. “I... I think so. She took lots of pictures and shared them with me.” Mrs. Lake stood and retrieved a photo album from the same bookshelf. “I printed them.”

“Did she describe the guide?” Sloane asked, her voice trembling. “Give you any details about him?”

“No.”

Mrs. Lake passed the book into my hands.

I opened the album and froze at the sight of the first photo. Sarah standing in front of Island Adventures, grinning at the camera with her backpack and hiking poles. In the window behind her, reflected in the glass, was a figure. A man, tall and broad-shouldered, partially obscured but clearly watching her.

“Can I take a photo of this?” I asked.

“Of course. Take pictures of whatever you need.”

The next photo showed Sarah holding a small brown and white shell. A scotch bonnet. Identical to the one left in Sloane’s house.

“Oh my God,” Sloane breathed. “He marks them. Before he takes them, he marks them.”

Rage warred with nausea in my gut at the horrific revelation.

The shell was his calling card.

Chapter 20