Page 25 of Secrets Along the Shore (Beach Read Thrillers #1)

And I was alive again.

But how many times can a person die and be raised from the dead?

I knew my chances had run out.

Sirens.

Heat and an acrid smell vaporizing in my face.

I could feel blood on my lip.

There was shouting and someone was yelling my name.

I tried to open my eyes. When I managed to open them, I saw the windshield of my car was busted out. Windshield glass had exploded all over the vehicle, the dashboard, and on me.

I pawed at the airbag, but the movement sent a sharp stab of pain through my torso and I cried out.

Flashing lights alerted me to the fact that help had arrived. The last thing I remembered was pressing on the gas, aiming for the station, and Alan. He had been in the back seat. I tried to twist and see where he was, but I couldn’t.

The car door groaned as it was forcefully tugged open.

“Noa!”

I knew without even looking that it was Reuben. My eyes slid shut .

“C’mon, Noa. I’m right here.”

I tried to open them again.

I felt him reach across me and release my seatbelt.

More voices joined his.

“Hang in there, Noa,” Reuben coached.

Where did he think I was going? And then the sweetness of oblivion swept over me. If Reuben was here, then everything would be okay. I knew that. It had to be. Reuben was—safe.

A steady beep met my ears. An echo deep in the recesses of my subconscious.

“Noa.”

The voice was distant. Male. Familiar and yet, not familiar.

I struggled to open my eyes.

“That’s it. Noa, c’mon.” They were coaching me to wake up, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to sleep. There was a peace in sleeping. Still, I tried to open my eyes again. This time I saw the blurry form bent over me. I smelled something sterile, with a strong whiff of coffee.

The walls were yellow.

I noticed that. Probably because I wasn’t a huge fan of butter yellow. Sunflower yellow, sure, but not butter.

The weird things a person considers when waking up. I was more aware of the shades of yellow than I was of who sat by my bed. Then I felt the IV in my arm. I sensed the pillow behind my head. My shoulder throbbed. Pain. Stiff.

It was déjà vu .

I’d been here before. After I’d clawed myself out of the shallow grave and run through the woods to find help. My body scraped and battered. I had cried so many tears, sobbed so many hours, that there was no emotion when I’d finally come across someone to help.

An old man had thrown his work coat around my body to shield me. He’d taken me to the hospital. I’d had an IV then too. And I had hurt. And then, I had forgotten.

I couldn’t forget this time .

Not again.

I would lose myself if I forgot again. So I forced myself to open my eyes wider.

Reuben Walker.

He stood leaning over me. Behind him was Livia, her brown eyes wide, her blue hair as beautiful as the morning sky.

Alan.

Sophia.

“Lilian and Rosalie?” I struggled to sit up and pain shot through every inch of my body. A sore aching pain that indicated I had been through another traumatic event.

“Shhh, shh, shh.” Reuben’s hand on my shoulder reassured me. Curiously, I wasn’t even uncomfortable that he touched me. Instead, I relaxed into my pillow, into the mattress, and let him tug the thin hospital blanket higher over my chest.

I remembered now. Alan and his stupid little gun. His quest to reinvent his family. His conquering of the fear of snakes by laying them outside the windows of his victims. His wanting to bring his sister back from the dead.

Back from the dead.

I wished all the innocents could come back from the dead.

A tear leaked out of my eye. “Where are Lilian and Rosalie?” That’s all I cared about. If they hadn’t made it—if Alan had?—

“They’re fine.” Reuben’s reassurance was not unlike getting washed away by a tidal wave of relief.

“We found them in Alan’s basement. He’d built a mock home there.

He’d literally been recreating the perfect family unit—or what he thought it was.

” Reuben reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

I don’t think he even realized he did it.

“You were right,” Livia said over Reuben’s shoulder. “Everything you theorized was right.”

“Alan?” I managed.

“He’s in custody. He didn’t even try to deny any of it,” Reuben stated. He eased onto a chair next to me.

“What happened?” I couldn’t fathom that while I’d been in a hospital bed, justice had somehow found Alan and rescue had descended on Rosalie and Lilian.

“You drove your car into a gas pump.” Livia’s announcement was mixed with the watery laughter of admiration.

“Yeah. That was not the wisest thing to crash your car into.” Reuben didn’t bother to withhold his censure.

“Did it explode?” I tried to offset it with a dismal attempt at humor. “‘Cause it doesn’t count if it didn’t explode.”

“No. It didn’t. But your airbags did, and you sent Alan through the windshield.”

“Ouch.” I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse for that. “So it’s over?”

“Yeah. It’s over.” Reuben nodded.

“Just like that?” I asked. It was too quick. Too simple. As complex as it was, it was too—finished. I wasn’t used to conclusions. In my world, there were never conclusions. Only unanswered questions, and shadows of unremembered memories.

“Just like that.” Livia smiled.

I knew then she would assume I’d feel better. That the resolution would be closure and all would be well. But it wasn’t. That wasn’t how it worked—although I didn’t have the heart to tell Livia that.

I glanced at Reuben and was a little surprised that he was studying me with narrowed eyes. It was disconcerting that I knew he was reading my thoughts.

“Hey, Livia, could you go get me a fresh coffee?” Reuben asked suddenly.

She looked surprised for a moment, but then seemed to read between the lines. “Oh. Yeah. For sure.”

When she was gone, Reuben wasted no time in sharing his thoughts. There was gravity in his voice. In his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Noa, but—I wanted you to be wrong.”

I knew. I knew what he meant. He continued anyway.

“I wanted this to be tied to your case so badly. I wanted to close it for you, not get you wrapped up in an entirely new one.”

“It’s okay.” It was the easiest thing to say. Besides, it wasn’t his fault, none of it was .

Reuben pressed his lips together and managed a grimace of a smile. “I’m not going to give up.”

I didn’t say anything then. I couldn’t. I didn’t know what to say. Ten years later, and I’d sort of reconciled that I wouldn’t have answers. That the Serpent Killer wouldn’t be caught. That he’d gone dormant for good and the clues had dried up long ago.

There were documentaries on TV every day with cases being solved twenty, even thirty years later, thanks to advanced sciences. Maybe that was what I needed. More time. More therapy. More . . .

No.

The funny thing was.

My story had never ended. He had tried to end it, that day, when he’d buried me in the earth. But he hadn’t. And I would continue.

I was alive for a reason.

Only this time, with this case, one person had helped me see something no one else in ten years had.

Sophia.

Sophia needed me.

They needed me.

The victims.

The dead.

They needed me to feel for them. To infuse their stories with humanity, when justice sought only facts. For it was in humanity that the heart beats the strongest.

It may have been ten years since I’d walked from the grave alive. But it was today my heart started to beat again.