Page 7 of Glimmer in the Darkness

The blinds on the house were open, and she slipped off her sunglasses and glanced inside the dining room window. She’d spent many happy meals there. The same weathered oak table, the same ladder-back chairs, the same sideboard with the same portrait hanging over it. A portrait of the family she’d loved as her own. Mr. Sullivan, Mrs. Sullivan, James, and Hallie.

They’d loved her, too. Once.

The memories hit so strong and hard that she squeezed her eyes to shut them out. The fear that had gripped her moments before vanished, replaced by grief so potent it felt like tentacles pulling her down.

Cassidy was a fool. She should’ve stayed on the trail and faced the pursuer. That would’ve been easier than facing this. She swiveled and started toward the road. She’d avoid the trail now, take the long way back to her car. Her pursuer—if she hadn’t dreamed him—was on the far side of the house. He wouldn’t be able to see where she went.

The door opened, and the screen squeaked on its hinges. She didn’t turn back and didn’t slow, but a voice called out. “Can I help you?” It was a voice she knew. A voice her dreams still produced.

No, no, no. That was the last thing she needed.

Without turning, she called, “Sorry. Just took a wrong turn.”

Nearly jogging, she waited for the door to open again and slam, proof the person had gone back inside. Instead, the thud of feet on the patio stairs followed.

He couldn’t be chasing her.

Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her. Maybe, if she stopped him before he got too close, he wouldn’t see her beyond her cap, her new haircut, and her new hair color. Everything about her was new. She turned suddenly, hoping he’d stop where he was. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you. I’ll just—”

“Cassidy?”

She wanted to laugh it off, give her fake name, pretend. But the words were caught.

Her sunglasses hung uselessly from her hand. She should have slipped them back on. Stupid mistake. Fatal mistake.

He was there, just ten, maybe fifteen feet from her. He looked so different. The clean-cut high school jock now had long hair, a mustache, and a beard. He’d broadened, matured. But the eyes… Those milk chocolate eyes hadn’t changed, even if they were filled with malice right now.

“What are—?” He closed the distance between them. When he was inches from her, he froze. “What are you doing here?

She swallowed all the emotions trying to climb out of her throat. Fear, affection, grief.

Love.

How could she still feel that after all the years, after the way he’d betrayed her? Of course, he thought she’d betrayed him… More than betrayed him.

He thought she was a murderer.

She didn’t know what to say. There were no words.

“You just gonna stand there looking at me?” he asked. “I think I deserve to know why you’re on my property, especially now.”

The accusation in his tone brought her voice back. “What does that mean? Especially now? Especially now that another kid is missing? Especially now that everyone suspects I did it?” She hurled the words, praying he’d soften, tell her she was wrong, that he believed in her.

“Yeah, Cassidy, and your being here right now—”

“Proves it? Right? Is that what you’re going to say?”

He crossed his arms, shrugged. He didn’t speak the words, but the accusation was clear in the hard stare.

“I didn’t kill your sister. I would never…” Old tears she’d thought long dried, rose to her throat. She’d always hoped, deep down, that James didn’t really believe what everyone said. But her hope had been futile. Of course it had. Hadn’t all her hopes proved…

Stop that. No pity-parties, not even today.

“If you didn’t do it,” he asked, “then why did you run?”

“You know why. I would never have gotten a fair shake here. I ran because I didn’t want to end up in prison.”

“Maybe you and your mother could’ve shared a cell.”