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“And no one noticed?” I say. “No one cared enough to be concerned?”
“Her parents were divorced,” Will says. “Joni’s marriage announcement mentions her mother and says her dad sent his regards from Australia.”
“Didn’t bother coming to the wedding.”
“Yep, so Dad’s out of the picture. Mom died before Joni disappeared—I found the obit. Joni was an only child. The only person who kept looking was Paul. He had money, and he used it trying to get his wife back like she was missing property. Took out ads. Offered rewards. When he remarried two years later, he took all that down.”
“Didn’t need a wife anymore,” I mutter.
“It’s possible Joni reallydidtake off,” Casey says. “Maybe whoever she met here flaked out, and she hitchhiked to Kelowna. Or he missed the message in a bottle but figured out where to meet her.”
“And they lived happily ever after?” Will says.
“I hope so.”
* * *
That night,I have a dream. No, not a dream. A fucking nightmare.
In it, Joni isn’t Joni Mayfair. She’s my mother, and she’s escaped into the forest with my father, and I’m supposed to follow after I sell her jewelry, but I can’t find the note telling me where to meet them.
I’ve looked in every log, and it’s not there. Gene Dalton is out here, too, searching for me, bellowing to forget them—what kind of parents raise their kids in the forest? I’m desperately hunting for that note, knowing I need to find it before he findsme.
I wake, fighting sheets that feel like vines holding me back. When a hand tightens on my shoulder. I slam my fist into Gene. There’s a sharp cry that is not Gene’s voice at all, and I wake fully to see Casey holding her jaw, her eyes wide. Storm’s up from her place on the floor, her front paws planted on the bed.
“Shit!” I scramble up. “Did I—?”Of course you fucking did.“I’m sorry. I thought you were— I was having a nightmare.”
Casey’s mouth quirks in a wry smile. “I kinda figured that.”
She pats Storm and tells her everything is fine as she nudges her back onto the floor. I reach for Casey, hesitantly. I justhither—I’m not going to touch her if she doesn’t want to be touched. But she falls into my arms and gives me a fierce hug.
“You okay?” I pull back to look at her jaw.
“It’s fine,” she says. “More shock than anything. You barely made contact.”
I touch the spot, gently, and she tries to hide a wince.
“Liar,” I murmur. “That’s going to bruise.”
“No one’s going to suspect you of hitting me.”
“Except Ididhit you.”
“Only because I woke you from a nightmare.”
“If anyone asks, go ahead and tell them that.”
She makes a face, but I push on and say, “Don’t make something up. Please.”
“Okay.” She twists to sit. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shrug. “Joni’s story reminds me a bit of my parents. It brought up that old shit.”
“Of course. I should have seen that.”
I shift to pull her into my arms. “Why would you? It’s not the same thing. My mom got away from her stalker when she came to Rockton, long before she went into the woods with my dad. It’s just a nightmare. When you fall asleep, your brain starts plucking out stuff from the day, twisting it all up.”
A long silence. Then she says, her voice quiet, “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
