The Perfect Daughter - Joseph Souza Page 0,50

A number of state troopers had joined the search, as well, as had a few cops from the nearby towns. He planned to join them shortly, knowing it would be a miserable slog. But then he heard a deafening boom. A few seconds later the sky lit up, and he knew the search would be called off for safety reasons.

Goddamned Ray. It had taken all his might not to say something to that asshole. Like why did he treat his wife so poorly? Or why, of all the women in Shepherd’s Bay, had he chosen Sofia to sleep with? He didn’t want to consider the possibility that Sofia had chosen Ray. Did Isla know about this? He certainly hoped not. It would be quite uncomfortable for both of them if she did. It was not like his wife was the first married woman Swisher had ever slept with. Likely not the last, either. The bigger question, which he thought he knew the answer to, was, Why had Isla stayed with him for so long?

By the time he returned to the station, he received word that the search had been called off until further notice. Without wasting time, he logged on to one of the computers and began to work.

KATIE

MY MOTHER HELD MY HAND WHILE THAT POLICE OFFICER QUESTIONED me. He seemed like an odd-looking guy. I don’t mean to say that he was hideous or deformed. He had this long, pale face with the word intense written all over it. And beady blue-gray eyes that sank deep into his skull. His nose hooked over thin, pale lips. Honestly, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t provide any answers to his questions. He had to know that I wanted to discover the truth as much as he did. Or at least I think I did. Maybe a part of me didn’t want to answer his questions. Or maybe I wasn’t in any mood to remember the events of that night.

But I do want Willow to be found. Very much so. So in that respect, I’m fairly certain that I tried my best. Five minutes of questioning, however, left me fatigued and ready to collapse in exhaustion. At the end of our short session, he eyed me longer than I liked, as if trying to determine whether or not I’d been telling him the truth.

Maybe a brief nap will help me remember. Then again, it’s probably best for me to start recalling events where I left off, which was when Willow knocked Tiffany out with that crazy kick. In all my life, it was probably the most impressive thing I’d ever seen. I developed a newfound respect for Willow after that day.

My mother tells me that there are people waiting to see me. Like church people. And my father and Drew. But I don’t want to see any of them right now, especially my father, and double especially for Drew. I’m way too tired to act all sweet and polite with this darkness living inside me. I’m afraid I might say something I’ll regret and prove to everyone that I’m really not the nice girl that everyone thinks I am. Because the truth is, I want to scream at the world for everything that’s happened to us, mostly because I’m here and Willow’s not. A movie I once watched called it survivor’s guilt.

My mother makes one of her faces when I tell her I don’t want to see anyone. She says that it will be good for me to be with other people and that it might make me feel better. It takes much begging and pleading before she gives in to my demands and agrees not to let anyone inside my room. Then she says something that makes me happy. Or less sad. She tells me that I’ll be going home soon. But first, they have to run some tests and do a brain scan. “Anything,” I beg her, as long as there’s no needles involved and they get me out of this hellhole.

I close my eyes and try to remember. But the harder I try, the more my mind resists, informing me that it will do so on its own timeline.

* * *

We stood onstage, our hands locked in a human chain. Thunderous applause cascaded around us. Demand for tickets to our school’s production of Grease had been so overwhelming that they moved it to the old Ford Theater in town. Everyone in the audience stood cheering,

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