Page 88 of Last Seen
She could go to the Esworthys’ cottage herself and knock, see if there’s really no one home. A walk might do her good. A nap, maybe? She hasn’t slept more than a few hours, and those were fitful.She is wired, though. Sleep may be impossible. She is on overload—systemic overload.
Her phone buzzes, and she recognizes the number she just called. “Hello?”
“This is Cathy Esworthy. You just left me a message. Sorry I missed you, I was in the garden.”
“Thanks for getting back to me. I wanted to ask about your renter Donnata Kade. Have you spoken to her recently, or have a way I can contact her?”
There is silence, then a small sigh. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Maybe your husband—”
A deep voice responds. “We no longer have any contact with Donnata. It was a difficult decision, she was a friend of mine from school, and we tried to help her get back on her feet. But her accusations, her demeanor, were so disruptive, we couldn’t let it go on.”
“Mr. Esworthy?”
“Yes. You’re on speaker. We really don’t have any idea where she is now.”
Mrs. Esworthy chimes in. “Bruce and I moved here to have a quieter life, and she ... Well, I’m sorry to say this, but Donnata is severely mentally ill. When she lost her job, we did all we could to get her help, but she wasn’t interested in treatment. She was obsessed with her delusions. They were frightening, and to watch her be so consumed ... We haven’t seen her since she moved out.”
“You mentioned accusations? Against whom?”
“That’s really all we know,” Mr. Esworthy says. “And unfortunately, we have to go. We have an appointment in Atlanta.”
“Right. Thank you for your time.”
She sets the phone back into its cradle.Thanks for nothing.Everyone is so tight lipped about Kade. It makes Halley wonder how delusional the woman really was. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, right?
She explores the cottage, familiarizing herself with everything. A few minutes into her scrutiny, the doorbell rings. She looks out the peephole to see a kid with grocery bags. Damn, that was quick.
She opens the door, and the kid smiles. “Sheriff Brockton asked me to drop these off.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“Oh, nothing. Here you go.”
He hands off the bags and is back in his golf cart and buzzing away before she can get her wallet to give him a tip.
She goes back into the house, determined to unpack and figure out her next steps. She pulls out the note, wishing she had a fingerprinting kit, something, anything, so she can do more than just stare at the wordHelpand wonder what the heck it is about. Who in this supposedly idyllic town needs help? And who would ask her, a total stranger, for it?
She tries to assemble all of the data she’s inputted into a coalescent timeline. Cat killed her mother. She came to Brockville. To the retreat. She went missing. Years later, her little sister finds out the truth and follows in her footsteps. She finds that the perfect little town isn’t so very perfect after all.
The story. Cat’s story.
Oh God, she’s forgotten entirely about meeting Tammy Boone.
A quick glance at the clock shows it’s five to nine. Assuming the sheriff hasn’t canceled her appointment, she can make it if she hurries.
The golf cart fires to life with no issue. She consults the map, figures out the path she needs to take, and buzzes off.
And the monster smiles.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Halley has the same sense of dislocation that she had when she arrived in town last night. It is bustling. Cheery. Happy. The day is sunny, clear, azure spring skies with only the faintest hint of chill still left in the mountain air. People in golf carts buzz past, waving and smiling. Many stop to chat with one another or with someone on a porch or in a driveway. Almost all of them wave at her as she passes.
As she makes the turn toward the writers’ retreat cabin, a six-seater golf cart full of people approaches. She can hear them chatting, laughing, pointing. Almost as if they’re on a tour.
Behind the wheel, she sees a man who looks like an older version of Noah and the sheriff. His shoulders are broad, his thick hair more salt than pepper but still hanging in there. His eyes are dark and have that bottomless edge to them, and his handsome face is lined by years in the sun. He looks like an actor playing the part of town leader. He is almost too perfect in the role.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88 (reading here)
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131