All the Missing Girls - Megan Miranda Page 0,98

before pulling open the front door.

Her mother was facing the driveway, her umbrella still up even though she was under the protection of the porch; the rain dripped off the spokes in slow motion. “Hi, Mrs. Carter.” I pushed open the screen door and stood on the threshold.

She turned her face slowly toward me, her eyes lingering a moment behind. She was looking at my driveway, at Tyler’s truck. “Good morning, Nic. It’s nice to see you home.” Manners first, always.

“You, too. I heard about Annaleise. Any word?”

She shook her head, let the umbrella rest against her side. “My son says he saw her walking in the woods. She’s like that, you know. Keeps her own company, goes for walks. I’ve seen her out there; it’s not too unusual, really. But she and I had plans yesterday . . . and her phone . . . Well.” She pressed her lips together. “It would’ve been late, after midnight. Since we share property, I wanted to check. Any chance you saw her? Or anyone? Anything?”

“No, I’m sorry. I was cleaning the house, and I fell asleep early. I didn’t notice anything.”

She nodded. “Is that Tyler Ellison’s truck, dear?”

“Oh, yes. My brother hired him to do some work on the house for us.”

“I don’t have his number, and I need to talk to him. Do you mind?” She moved forward, forcing me to back up, and stepped inside my house, placing the open umbrella on the ground.

“Sure, I’ll just go find him. Sorry about the heat. It’s the air-­conditioning unit. Busted. That’s why he’s here. Tyler?” I called from the hallway. “Tyler, someone’s here to see you!”

He came down the steps, and before we could see his face, before he could see us, he said, “I think it’s the condenser fan. If you buy a replacement part, I can— Oh, hi,” he said, his steps slowing.

“I’ve been trying to reach you,” said Mrs. Carter.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been working. We’ve got a project with a crazy deadline. I’ve actually got a meeting at ten down at the county clerk’s office. I should probably be heading that way.”

“Of course. I was just wondering if you’ve heard from Annaleise?”

“I haven’t.”

She took another step into the house. “When did you last see her? What did she say?”

Tyler paused, removed his hat, ran his hand through his hair, pulled the hat back down. “We went to a movie after dinner Monday night. I dropped her off a little before ten. Had an early morning myself the next day.”

“Did she mention anything else? What she was planning?”

“No, I haven’t seen her since.”

“Did she mention going to look at grad schools?”

“No,” he said.

“Do you know what she was doing in the woods?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

Her questions came fast, but Tyler’s answers came faster. “I’m so sorry,” I said, opening the screen door for her. “Please let us know if you hear anything.”

“Okay,” she said, dragging her eyes from Tyler. “If she doesn’t turn up by tomorrow, they’re going to organize a search—” Her voice broke.

“I’ll be there,” Tyler said. “But I’m sure she’s okay.”

She picked up her umbrella, her eyes shifting between me and Tyler as she backed out of the house.

* * *

CORINNE’S MOTHER HAD COME to see me a week after she went missing, after we’d scoured the woods, the river, the caverns. “Just tell me, Nic. Tell me the things you think I don’t want to know. Tell me so we can find her.”

I remembered the feeling of wanting to tell her something, to give her something. I remembered thinking she was so young, too young to lose a full-grown daughter.

But I shook my head because I didn’t know. This was before Hannah Pardot broke Corinne open, and all I had to tell her mother was She had a meanness. A darkness. She loved me and hated me, and I felt the same. I couldn’t say that to the broken woman on my front porch, not with my father in the kitchen, not with Daniel upstairs in his room, probably listening out the window.

“Tell me this,” she’d said. “Do you think she’s okay?”

A week was too long to keep up the charade, even for Corinne. “No,” I’d said. Because that, too, was something I could give her.

A year later, when the investigation was fading to a memory for everyone else, Mrs. Prescott got divorced. She took those kids, and she left Cooley Ridge. I don’t know where they went. Somewhere there aren’t any woods to cut through

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