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Sally was a good person. So was Pamela, although Brook didn't know the girl all that well. She was Jacob's age, and she seemed nice. He couldn't have been happy to see Ben and Pamela together, though.
Low murmurs of conversation finally drifted from the hallway, and Brook breathed a sigh of relief. Her dad was awake, probably wanting some of that chicken casserole her mother had made for dinner. She couldn't make out everything that was being said, but she had heard Jacob mumble something about needing a glass of water. Their father believed every word that came out of Jacob's mouth, completely clueless that he'd been out of the house for hours.
Brook shook her head in disgust, though she had trouble erasing the unease over her encounter with Jacob. The way he'd talked about Sally and Pamela had been bizarre, but even more so concerning his knowledge about Marcie's problems with her family.
Brook hadn't even made it to her bed before the house phone rang, shattering any semblance of calm. The last time someone had tried to reach them in the middle of the night, it had been the hospital calling about her grandmother. She'd had a heart attack and had been put on life support. She'd died the following day.
Had the same thing happened with Grandpa?
Brook quickly retraced her steps and opened the door. Her mother was quickly coming out of her bedroom with a concerned expression on her face, and the two of them descended the stairs together. Her dad had already turned on the lamp next to the phone.
Brook heard Jacob's bedroom door open behind them.
"…can ask him. I know that he was at the library earlier this evening. Hold on." Brook's dad held the phone to his chest before calling out to her brother. "Jacob, you were at the library earlier tonight, right?"
"Yeah," Jacob replied from behind them. Brook glanced over her shoulder to find her brother leaning against the banister in a rather casual manner. "I was studying for my science midterm."
"Pamela Murray didn't return home tonight. Did you see her at the library?"
"I saw her." Jacob shrugged, as if Pamela missing wasn't all that big of a deal. "She was hanging out with Ben Pearson."
Brook's dad relayed the message while her mother descended the rest of the staircase. She motioned that she wanted the phone, and he handed it over to her.
"Did you try Scotty's parents? I was driving through town earlier, and I saw Pamela walking with him. Maybe he knows something that…"
"You two should go back up to bed," their dad said as he tightened the belt on his robe. "I'm sure that Pamela simply lost track of time or something. She'll be home soon."
"I hope so," Brook whispered, keeping an eye on her mother. She was now speaking really low into the phone, and it was hard to hear all the words. "Goodnight."
Jacob wasn't standing near the corner of the hallway when Brook finally turned around. She slowly climbed the steps one by one, thinking back to Jacob's reaction. He'd answered the question about being at the library, but he didn't seem concerned at all that Pamela hadn't returned home tonight.
Wouldn't such a reaction be normal?
Brook noticed that Jacob's door was still ajar as she got closer to her own room. He stood there, as if he'd been waiting for her. He wasn't smiling, but there was a satisfaction in his cold eyes that set her on edge.
"It's a shame that Pamela didn't come home in time for her curfew," Jacob said, tilting his head just a fraction, the way he'd done earlier tonight in the kitchen. It was unnerving, and Brook made sure that she was safely in her room before he finished speaking. "I guess she wasn't quite so perfect, after all."
Chapter Two
Brooklyn Sloane
January 2022
Sunday — 10:46pm
"IthoughtI'dfindyou here."
Brook Sloane didn't turn around to face the man standing in the doorway of her brand-new office. There was no need when she could see his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windowpane. It had also helped that she'd heard the swish of the elevator doors as they'd opened in the foyer a moment beforehand, but it wasn't as if she hadn't been expecting him.
Graham Elliott had a strange cyclical habit of checking in on her every third day. He'd done so for the past month, and his routine had become more than a bit irritating.
Then again, she should have guessed he'd be predictable in his visits. Being a retired senior officer in the Marine Corps meant that he'd been institutionalized, in a manner of speaking. The need for structure and discipline had long since been ingrained into his core beliefs, and he wasn't likely to change his bearing in his mid-fifties. He still maintained his ramrod straight posture, spit-shined shoes, and cropped hairstyle two years after his retirement. His moral compass was embodied by the Corps' values— honor, courage, and commitment.
He also had a grating predilection of reading her as easily as she could read him, and it was rather unsettling. Both of them preferred to maintain the upper hand in all things, and she loathed to admit that he currently had an edge over her due to their existing business arrangement.
"I'm postponing hiring a receptionist until after we close your daughter's case," Brook stated in a tone that broke no argument.
The present dynamic between them wasn't going to change anytime soon—highly-connected supervisor and valued employee. Some might say business partners, but it certainly didn't feel that way. Still, she needed to assert some semblance of control in her work environment, and she wasn't even remotely ready to have some stranger know her daily routine and inner workings of her life as it related to the same.
