dad with a drink and her feet in his lap. Both of them peeking up every few moments to check on me.
My own life had forked in the dead of night, right here.
But this—this was the life that should’ve been mine. My dad catching me around the waist as I ran inside—You’re a mess, he’d say, laughing. My mom shrugging, So let her be.
Memories and imagination. All that remained of the life that was taken from me.
* * *
I MUST’VE DRIFTED TO sleep in the car—the buzz of my phone jarring me awake in a panic.
I took a moment to reorient myself, curled on my side in the driver’s seat. In the daylight, this home was no longer my home. Wind chimes in place of colored pottery, the hand-painted Welcome sign replaced with a wreath of woven vines. Bright blue metal chairs on the front porch, pops of color in the mountain landscape.
My phone buzzed again—two texts from Ben Collins.
Pick you up in a half hour.
Still need your address.
A man exited the front door, walking down the porch steps, heading for the car parked at the side of the house—but he stopped when he saw me. Changing directions, heading this way.
I responded to Detective Collins: Sorry, something came up. Meet you at the ceremony.
The man walked slowly up the drive, and I lowered the window, a thousand excuses on my tongue.
“We just moved in,” he said with a smile. He was maybe the age of my dad when he died. But he always seemed younger in my memory. “It’s not on the market anymore.”
I nodded. “I used to live here when I was a kid. Sorry. I just . . . wanted to see how it looked now.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Lot of history to the place.”
“Yes. Sorry to bother you. I was just in the area . . .”
The sun caught off the wind chimes over their porch, and he rocked back on his heels. I rolled up the window, starting the car.
Parker had taken everything from me, and I still couldn’t prove it was him. But I knew there was one more place to look, and there would be only one last chance to do it.
My heart pounded against my ribs. It was time to go. Sadie’s dedication would be starting soon.
Everyone would be there.
CHAPTER 28
I was four blocks away from Breaker Beach and barely able to find a spot. Everyone was here, I was right. The dedication would be starting soon. I took the first spot I found, then stopped inside the Sea Rose to gather everything I had—all the evidence that had led me to this point. Keeping everything in one place so I could present it all to Detective Collins after the dedication.
Slinging my bag across my chest, I headed toward the ceremony.
* * *
I SAW THEM ALL. People spilling out from Breaker Beach into the parking lot, standing on rocks behind the dunes. Cars double-parked in the street, a bottleneck of vehicles and spectators. It was a Tuesday morning, and people had given up their time, their work, their business for this. It was a show of support for a girl larger than life. It was the only thing left to give.
A crowd had gathered near the entrance to the beach, the bell at the center, words hand-chiseled in brass.
I saw Bianca standing beside Grant on a raised platform, stoic, head down. Grant’s hand was at the small of her back, and Parker stood behind them both, scanning the crowd.
The Randolphs, the Arnolds, they were all there, near the front. I kept moving through the sea of people blocking off the road. As I passed, I saw the Sylvas, the Harlows, families I’d known forever, here to pay tribute—another person lost to Littleport. The committee stood in a row behind the makeshift podium, Erica beside Detective Ben Collins, his sunglasses over his eyes, both solemn and still.
The commissioner stepped forward, and the microphone sent her voice crisp and clear. “Thank you for joining us this morning as we celebrate the life of Sadie Janette Loman, who left a mark on this town and all who knew her.”
People bowed their heads, the low murmur of voices falling to silence.
Forgive me, Sadie.
I continued on, pushing past the edge of the crowd—rounding the curve and heading up the incline of Landing Lane.
I peered over my shoulder once, but no one was in sight. No one could see where I was going.