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“There was someone out there,” he said. “And she looked...”
“What?” I asked.
His hand dropped from my arm. “I don’t know. The mist was really thick.”
Disappointment and something deeper sang through me. For as long as I could remember, I’d been waiting for someone to tell me that they saw what I did. That I wasn’t alone. Or delusional. But anytime anyone came close, it ended like this. They saw something they couldn’t explain, and they ran as fast as they could in the other direction.
At least, that was what it had been like when I was younger. Before everyone figured out what a freak I was and stayed away in the first place. Liam would figure it out too.
“Good night,” I said, and told myself I was used to it. That I didn’t care what Liam Kapoor thought about me.
“Pardon my nudity,” Abby said once the door was closed, and dropped the quilt. I turned away while she shimmied into thesweats and long-sleeved tee that Lily had offered. Lily was shorter and stockier than Abby, and the sweats hit awkwardly above the ankle.
As I stripped off my own sodden jeans, she unpacked the rest of her bag. There was a camera case and a notebook, along with a three-ring binder. The camera case was damp but the interior looked dry, and the notebook and binder were in plastic bags. She let out a sigh of relief.
“Nothing vital lost,” she said. “So, Ms.Hayes. What brings you to Bitter Rock?” I glared at her, but she just smiled a little. “Sorry. I’m assuming you being here is my fault.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed at her, but she was almost whispering already. I was just nervous. I perched on the bed opposite her. “What are you really doing here?”
“The same thing you are, I’m guessing. Trying to find out why people keep disappearing from this place, and why no one else seems to care,” Abby said.
“Why doyoucare?” I demanded, then shut up as I heard Kenny and Lily head down the hallway, chatting.
Abby shrugged. “Curiosity, same as you.”
I stared at her a beat, rage rising behind my breastbone. “Curiosity? I’ve spent my entire life wondering how my mother died. And it doesn’t make any sense. There’s no reason to hide the truth if all that happened was that she died in a storm. Why hide the fact that she was here? Who’s hiding it? What happened to her? What happened tome? I have to know, because until I do, I don’t even know who Iam. I’ve got nothing. No family. No friends. I don’t even have a home to go back to. All I’ve got is myself, andI don’t know what ‘myself’meansif I don’t know why I lost everything else. So that’s why I care,Ms. Ryder. It’s notcuriosity. It’s... everything.”
I let out my breath in a rush and looked away, my eyes pricking. I resisted the urge to shove that emotion away, force it into the void. It always felt like the easier way out, in the moment. But some hurt was worth feeling.
“Okay,” Abby said softly. “You’re right, that was flippant. I’m sorry. I came because of this.” She unzipped an inner pouch in her bag and pulled out a small cardboard box. She opened it carefully and emptied the contents onto her palm, holding it out to me.
It was a wooden bird. A red-throated tern. Almost every detail was the same as the one in my jacket pocket: the red patch on its throat, the angle of its wings. But one wingtip had been broken off, and a brown stain marred its side.
“It’s a red-throated tern. They only live here,” Abby said.
“I know,” I said. “I... I’ve seen one like that. Where did you get it?”
“My sister gave it to the man I work for, Dr. Ashford.”
“And that made you want to come here?”
“Yeah. See, the thing is, my sister gave it to him in September. When she’d been dead for almost a year.” I stared at her. She gave me a crooked smile. I didn’t believe in ghosts, exactly, but I was ready to accept them as part of a world that included me. “I’ve got no idea why Miranda sent me here. But you’re not the only one with personal business on this island, Sophia. Which means you’re not on your own.”
I drew in a stuttering breath, relief that felt like sorrowsweeping through me. It seemed too dangerous to believe. I had always been alone. Always. “I need to find out what happened to her. To us,” I said.
“I know. And I’ll help you,” Abby said. “I’ll tell you everything I know. But first, I need you to tell me something.”
“What?” I asked, wariness stealing back into my tone.
She tilted her head a little. “Why don’t you have a reflection?”
EXHIBIT D
Photograph from the Instagram account of user @missoulamont_anna
POSTED MARCH 7, 2018
Image shows a young woman with curly brown hair and a maroon coat standing in front of a pizza parlor, offering the camera a practiced smirk. To the right of the frame, captured unintentionally in the background, is a second girl, this one with a long plait of blonde hair hanging to the middle of her back. She is looking at her reflection in the mirrored windows of the restaurant.
