About the Author

KATLYN DUNCAN grew up in a small town in New England, but her head was always in the clouds. She wanted to travel and see the world but was happy enough to write her own characters and live through them. Katlyn started writing at a young age and never really stopped. Even if she wasn’t writing a novel or a movie script, she was jotting down ideas in her journal or on Post-it notes. She never thought (even though she dreamed) they would lead to her actually becoming published someday. One of her proudest moments was winning $50 for a writing contest in sixth grade. And Katlyn bought her very own television with it. In that same grade, one of her most influential teachers taught her that reading was an escape and she hopes she can bring that to her readers as well.

Katlyn currently lives in lower New England, a quick train ride to New York City, with her husband and adorable wheaten terrier in a Victorian fixer-upper.

Readers love Katlyn Duncan

‘I will definitely be reading more from this author again.’

‘Engaging and thought provoking.’

‘I was completely glued from page one and didn’t want to put it down.’

Also by Katlyn Duncan

The Life After Trilogy: Soul Taken

The Life After Trilogy: Soul Possessed

The Life After Trilogy: Soul Betrayed

This Summer

This Christmas

Darkest Dawn

As You Lay Sleeping

Six Little Secrets

The Sisters’ Secrets: Rose
KATLYN DUNCAN

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

Copyright © Katlyn Duncan 2018

Katlyn Duncan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © October 2018 ISBN: 9780008314903

Version: 2018-09-03

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Readers Love Katlyn Duncan

Also by Katlyn Duncan

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Acknowledgements

The Next Book From Katlyn Duncan Is Coming in January 2019

Dear Reader

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

For Mom.

Thanks for being the first reader for all my books. I was waiting for a good one to dedicate to you and I hope this one conveys how much I appreciate and love you.

Prologue

Rosemary knew it wasn’t the morning when her eyes cracked open. The waves crashing against the shore were louder than ever. The darkness in her bedroom might have affected some people, but not her, not at that moment. Moonlight filtered through her curtains, billowing them as if ghosts danced under the sheer white fabric. She narrowed her eyes slightly, sharpening the edges of the furniture in her room.

Damp sheets clung to her body, and the taste of the salt in the air filled her mouth. She pulled her hair back and rolled it around her hand, tugging the thick strands off her neck.

According to the fish clock hanging from the wall, it was 11.22 p.m.

Why was she awake?

Maybe a sound from outside woke her up? Her body tensed. Was someone about to rob them? She heard Reen in the back of her head: ‘Don’t be such a worrywart.’

She stood up, ready to alert Mom and Dad. But Mom didn’t sleep so well. Waking her up for no reason would make for a rough day tomorrow. It was the weekend, and she was sure that Mom would be miserable if she disrupted her sleep in any way.

She flattened one leg of her shorts, her fingers brushing against the fresh scratches on her knees. Reen played harder lately, and Rose was up for the challenge.

Then, she heard it.

This splash was different from the rhythmic movement of the ocean outside of her house – the background noise of her life.

She strained to hear the voices that filled her ears. Two people spoke in hushed tones. Both were female.

Mom?

Padding across the room, she flung open the curtains. The dark mass of water making up her front yard reached out to the infinite sea.

No one was on the beach. Rose strained to hear and place the voices. The binoculars, from Dad for her tenth birthday, sat on the desk. If she could figure out what was going on, there was no need to alert her parents. Besides, there was no way that she was going back to sleep after this.

She lifted the binoculars and peered through them. No one came out to the private beaches of The Burrow unless they were looking for trouble. She at least wanted to tell Dad what was happening.

Then she saw it. Something reflected off the water. The white light flickered several times before blinking out entirely.

She couldn’t make out the words around the whispers, but they intensified. A tugging sensation in her stomach forced her to put her binoculars on the sill and propelled her to climb over and onto the wooden patio.

Whispers, faint and teasing, reached all corners of her mind. The voices were familiar yet, bizarre.

Rose pinched her arm to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Sharp, biting pain radiated over her skin.

Definitely not dreaming.

As her feet pressed into the soft sand, she tilted her head to the side to listen for the whispers.

They were gone.

She stood straighter and peered into the distance. It might have been a good idea to bring the binoculars, but she had an idea where she’d seen the flickering light. If she went back, she might miss what she was looking for.

The water pulled the sand from under her feet as she walked over the surf. The cool liquid over her skin warmed the chill in her spine. Water did that to her.

That same pulling sensation tugged at her chest, beckoning her forward.

She walked further until the ocean touched her ankles, then her knees, and stopped when it reached her chest. Her foot outlined the familiar dip in the ocean floor.

One more step and she wouldn’t be walking anymore.

With a glance over her shoulder, she pushed forward.

The shock of the water at her shoulders stung like a thousand little needles prickling her skin. The salty water seeped into her mouth. Her arms moved to her sides and her legs kicked out as she treaded water.

There were no other sounds around her, not even the whispers.

Even though she felt at home in the water, the creepiness of the situation snapped her back to reality.

What am I doing out here?

Her heart hammered in her ears as she kicked her feet to find the ledge again. The second her toes brushed against what she thought was the ledge, she cupped her hands, pushing forward.

As soon as she touched the sandy ocean floor, something slick wrapped around her ankle and pulled.

Rose’s entire body went under, and water flooded her mouth and nose. Pumping her arms, she was desperate to find the surface. Her hand broke through, and she kicked as hard as she could.

When the night air touched her cheeks, she gasped. She barely had time to fill her lungs before she went under again. Her lungs burned as she fought against the force that threatened to pull her further into the water.

Whatever held on to her was strong. Brackish water filled her vision. Black spots blinked in her eyes, and she needed, more than anything, to find the strength to swim to the surface. Her life depended on it.

The slick seaweed tightened around her ankle, searing her skin. Since it wasn’t letting her go, she reached down to try and snap it from the root.

Her body stilled, frozen by the icicles in her veins as realization flooded her.

It wasn’t seaweed.

The scaly and cylindrical rounded object burned against her leg and it was about to drag her to the watery depths of the ocean.

Her pulse spiked. Instead of fighting it, she tried to untangle it from around her ankle. Fire raged in her lungs. She kicked with all her might, attempting to get to the surface.

Swimming was something that Rose knew how to do. Growing up on the beach had honed her skills. It was hard to focus under duress, but she tried.

Grasping her last bit of energy before the blackness took over, Rose pushed once more for the surface. But it was futile. She was going to die in the ocean. Her mind went hazy for a moment as she started to give up, allowing her arms and legs to still.

That was until two arms wrapped around her and hoisted her to the surface. The first thing she did was inhale the salty air. Water crashed around her, but something splashed nearby. It was coming back for her.

‘Swim, honey,’ Mom said.

Rose’s legs were weak, and her ankle throbbed. She wanted to check herself out, but instinct won. Even though she didn’t have much strength left, she clawed for the shore.

Once Rose collapsed on the sand, a figure came into view. It was Mom, walking out of the ocean, wearing her now see-through nightgown. It clung to her body as if it were a part of her skin.

Mom knelt next to Rose and pulled her onto her lap.

Rose trembled in her mother’s arms. How did she know I needed help?

Mom’s eyes bulged, and she drew Rose up against her chest, squeezing out most of the air in her lungs. ‘I’m so sorry, Rose.’

The weight of almost drowning pressed against Rose’s body, and she choked out a sob as she fisted the wet fabric of her shirt.

I’m alive.

The lapping water reached Rose’s feet, and she curled her legs closer to her body.

Hot tears flowed down her cheeks, but they weren’t hers.

Chapter 1

The shrill brrring of Rose’s phone cut through the otherwise silent kitchen. Her hand shot out, nearly spilling the coffee from her mug.

Two brown dots marked her khaki pants. ‘Dammit!’ So much for enjoying a quiet breakfast. Shuffling across the room, she grabbed her phone from the counter by the door.

The second she saw the name, her heart sank. Quickly swiping the screen, she brought the phone to her ear. ‘Hello?’

‘Rose Barros?’ the nasally voice enquired.

Rose placed her clammy hand on her forehead. ‘Yes, this is she.’ There’s a problem. If they’re calling me, there must be.

‘This is Jessie. I’m a CNA at the Whinding House.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Rose asked.

‘I wanted to inform you that your mother had a fall this morning.’

A breath caught in Rose’s throat.

‘She’s okay,’ Jessie continued before Rose could ask. ‘But we’re required to inform you.’

‘Was she injured?’ Rose asked.

‘Nothing life-threatening,’ she said. ‘A sprained wrist. One of our staff was helping her out of bed, and she lost her footing.’

Thank God she’s not hurt too badly. The digital clock on the microwave read 8.15 a.m. ‘Should I come over there?’ It would have to be a quick visit before her shift started.

‘There’s no need, I –’

‘I’m on my way,’ Rose said, hanging up.

Flicking her finger across her phone screen, she went to her Favorites and pressed her thumb over Missy’s name. While the dial tone trilled in her ear, Rose grabbed her half-eaten slice of toast and stuffed another bite into her mouth before rinsing off the plate.

Missy’s voice came after the fourth ring. ‘Hello?’

‘Hey, it’s me,’ Rose said through the food in her mouth.

‘Don’t tell me you’re going to be late,’ Missy said.

Rose cringed. ‘Mom had a fall last night.’

‘Shit,’ Missy said. ‘All right, I got you covered.’

‘I’m going to try and make it in time. As long as traffic isn’t bad –’

‘Take your time, Rosie,’ Missy said.

Rose sighed. ‘Thank you.’

‘See you soon,’ Missy said then hung up.

Being best friends with her boss had a few perks. Even though she hated to be late for anything, Pearl’s fall was an unknown wrench in her plan.

Good thing Rose got up early that morning. Instead of rushing to change, she ignored the small coffee stain on her pants – she’d get more than that at work – and grabbed her keys from the basket next to the fridge.

As it did most days, the photograph on the freezer door caught her eye. A couple with two young girls smiled back at her. They stood in front of the house she’d grown up in. Rose reached out and smoothed her finger over Dad’s face and then focused on the little dark-haired girl with the devious glint in her eyes. Her arm wrapped around little Rose’s shoulders, holding her close. She’d kept the picture as a reminder of simpler times when her family was a strong unit and not broken by hard times.

To call Reen or not…that was the question. Reen hadn’t been involved in any decisions when it came to Pearl’s future. There wasn’t time for an argument, not this early in the morning.

Telling her sister about Mom’s fall wasn’t going to help heal their rift. In fact, it was an invitation to a different conversation, one that they’d had ad nauseam.

Instead, Rose pushed the thought out of her mind and headed for the door. Humid air caught in her throat, but there were looming gray clouds in the distance. Not wanting to take any more chances with her clothes before work, she grabbed her jacket, slinging it over her shoulder and went outside.

The ride over to the Whinding House was mostly uneventful. The annual Mermaid Festival kicked off later that week, and preparations were underway.

In the 1800s, there were rumors of mermaids living off the coast of The Burrow. Sailors and fishers weaved stories of the beautiful half-human, half-fish creatures who took lonely men to the deep. Sometimes the townsfolk blamed the creatures for ill weather and sinking ships. The rumors stuck around for a long time until one of the townspeople came up with the idea to honor the mermaids, instead of fearing them.

After the first festival, the story goes that no more men fled from their homes to answer the siren call and the fishers were prosperous for years to come. The town kept the tradition alive, even though it became a fruitful time for the businesses on land instead of those that relied on the water for their livelihoods.

Rose thanked whoever watched over her that there wasn’t traffic yet. She had a slim window of time to get to work before Missy.

The parking lot was mostly empty, other than the vans that transported the non-memory-care residents on day trips or to appointments.

Rose parked closest to The Cottage, the red brick building under lockdown at the back of the property. When she chose a place for Pearl to live the rest of her life, Rose hadn’t taken anything lightly.

The beautifully renovated Victorian house at the front of the complex had been a welcome sight, but the cost of the care was much more than she could afford. While Mom’s insurance helped, extra hours working at The Siren restaurant and renting her childhood home were the only ways she could get Mom the care she needed.

Flinging open the door to the building, Rose charged inside to the front desk.

The receptionist, Tina, glanced up from her computer. She eyed Rose over her black-rimmed glasses. ‘I had a feeling I’d see you today.’

Tina knew everything going on in The Cottage. If Rose hadn’t played at her house as a child, she would have sworn Tina slept under her desk.

‘You know me,’ Rose said.

‘I do,’ she said.

Ignoring the pity in Tina’s eyes was hard. There was no reason for anyone to feel bad for her. She wasn’t the one locked in this place.

Rose went through the motions, signing in to the guest log before walking over to the double doors behind Tina’s desk. She punched in the code on the small keypad to unlock the doors.

Once inside, the scent of bleach and cleaning solutions stung her nose. With her weekly visits over the last few months, that scent replaced the memory of Mom’s floral perfume that she’d worn for as long as Rose knew her. Now every time Rose cleaned the apartment, she automatically thought of Pearl. The mother she’d locked away.

Rose took a breath, steeling herself. Jessie had said Pearl was fine. She wouldn’t lie, right?

Taking care of Mom had been Rose’s job for years, but now that she was in the safety of The Cottage, Rose had no idea how to pull back the control, even with professionals on-site.

Inside Mom’s room, both beds were empty. Pearl hadn’t had a roommate since the late Mrs. Hudson, but it was only a matter of time. Not that Pearl would notice anyway. The flowers she’d bought a few days ago bent over the edge of the vase resting on the dresser. Rose pinched the silky, delicate petals between her fingers.

She realigned the picture frames and small trinkets from their house as little reminders to Pearl. Memories flooded her mind, but she snapped out of it as quickly as she fell in.

As she walked into the hallway, she followed the sound of clinking utensils from the main room. Even though Rose had been up for over two hours, it was time for the residents’ breakfast.

As she always did when she came to visit Mom, Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. Warmth enveloped her the moment she stepped into the room.

Two broad windows made up the back wall, offering a full view of the ocean in the distance. The sight always took her breath away. But she didn’t want others to see the effect it had on her. The walls closed in around her, and the ache in her chest stole her breath.

She turned away, her gaze pausing on each of the residents before settling on Mom’s excessively long gray hair covering the back of her chair. Even though Mom had no idea what her name was, she held on to her habit of keeping her hair as it always had been.

It was a trait they both shared. Mom never forced Reen or Rose to cut their hair, and because of that, it grew longer than most. Rose always enjoyed the feel of it across her shoulders and back. Somehow, it brought her closer to Pearl. While it was a nuisance most of the time, keeping it up in a bun or a long fishtail braid had become her styling choice.

Today, Pearl sat alone. The other residents sat in twos or threes around the room. Some of them chatted with each other while most had a faraway look and muttered to themselves.

Rose sat in the empty chair next to her mother.

As usual, Pearl slowly turned towards her daughter without any flash of recognition in her eyes. Her skin had loosened with age and the rapid decline of her health, but Rose still saw the fresh-faced woman that Dad fell for. Her lips were full and her nose a perfect slope with a rounded end. The three Barros girls favored each other, and Rose was happy for her genetics.

Pressure rose in Rose’s chest, but she didn’t show it.

Instead, she inspected the white gauze wrapped around her mother’s wrist.

Movement from across the room caught her attention. An unfamiliar person nodded at Rose. She guessed it was Jessie, the newer CNA who had called her. She pulled a pen from her blonde ponytail and wrote something down on the clipboard clutched in her hands.

Rose turned to Mom. ‘Good morning, Pearl.’ She didn’t try to force memories on Pearl, and hadn’t for a while now. Calling her ‘Mom’ was only going to cause problems. ‘My name is Rose.’

‘Rose,’ Pearl dragged out, tasting the word. ‘Rosemary. Herb.’

Rose sniffed, pulling herself together. ‘That’s right.’

Pearl licked her lips and brought the spoon full of grits into her mouth. She mashed it around as some of it spilled from the corners of her mouth. Rose lifted the napkin from the tray and blotted the food from her lips.

‘How are you feeling today, Pearl?’

She muttered something, but the words muddled together.

Rose thought, for a second, she’d heard her mom say her name. But even if she had, it wouldn’t be about her. Pearl hadn’t recognized Rose in a year.

While this place was the best for Pearl, it wasn’t helping with her condition. The doctor said she’d never regain her memory, but deep down in a secret part of Rose’s heart, she wanted to disprove that. Her mother, the woman who loved her family with her entire heart and soul, had to be inside there somewhere.

Rose felt terrible for thinking that way, but coming to visit as much as she could, to remind Pearl of the best part of her life, was the only way she knew how to help.

‘I can’t stay long today, Pearl,’ Rose said, glancing at the clock on the wall. ‘But I’ll be back later this week. I wanted to check in with you.’

Rose placed her hand on Pearl’s uninjured wrist.

Pearl barely blinked or acknowledged the touch. She merely went on eating and staring out the window.

Rose stood from her chair, desperate to keep a brave smile plastered on her face. She kissed Pearl’s head and walked away.

‘Ms. Barros,’ someone said just as Rose reached the hallway.

Rose turned, and Jessie stood there. She was much younger than Rose realized. Her heart-shaped face was baby-like. She had a broad smile that made Rose think that this was a newer job for her. As much as the nurses loved and cared for the residents, The Cottage saw more turnover than most of the other sections of the compound.

‘Thanks for coming by,’ she said. ‘We haven’t officially met yet.’

Rose offered her hand. ‘Nice to meet you. Please call me Rose.’

‘Does your family live in the area?’

‘Just me.’ Rose knew that there was information in Pearl’s chart about their family, but she sensed Jessie wanted to talk to someone. Maybe connect.

Rose was happy to oblige. It was her way. ‘My father passed away years ago, and my sister lives…’ Rose trailed off. She had no idea where Reen lived now. Reen bounced around to more places than a flight attendant. Hell, she could even be a flight attendant for all Rose knew. ‘My sister lives out of town. She doesn’t visit much.’ Or ever.

Jessie stuck out her lip. ‘That’s a shame.’

Bruce, one of the male residents, leaned over his wheelchair, trying to grab a nearby cane.

‘You’ve got a runner,’ Rose said.

Jessie jolted. ‘I better get on that.’ She gave Rose a little wave then took off.

Rose took one last glance at Pearl before leaving. As Rose walked down the hallway, her chin trembled, and she cursed to herself as she dug into her purse for a tissue.

Rose was only half an hour late for work that morning. The return traffic was a bit slower, caused by construction and weather. The last-minute repairs were necessary to keep the flow of tourists into the quiet beach towns. The sudden down-pouring rain slowed the cars to a crawl. And it especially did nothing for her mood.

The Siren restaurant was on the far side of The Burrow, right on the water’s edge.

It was the only mermaid-themed restaurant nearby, adding to the lore surrounding the town. Tourists loved the sea-themed decor and the aptly named menu items – Under the Sea-weed Salad, Dive-In Antipasto, Boatload of Nachos, to name a few.

Rose parked near the street, not wanting to take away the closer spots from customers. Entering through the back of the restaurant, she punched in on the time clock before removing her coat and placing her sopping mess of a jacket onto the hook by the door.

‘Rosie, that you?’ Missy called from the kitchen.

‘Yeah,’ Rose said and pushed through the double doors into the kitchen. ‘Want me to start in the dining room?’

‘How’s Pearl?’ Missy asked.

A pinching sensation in her chest stopped her in her tracks. It was a good thing Missy was busy cleaning the counters. Even though Rose had washed them the night before, Missy was a perfectionist and germophobe. While she worked, she kept her blonde hair back from her face with a battered baseball cap.

‘She’s fine,’ Rose said.

Missy turned, digging her hand into her hip. Her freckled cheeks flushed. ‘They called you this morning because she’s fine?’

Rose grabbed the bucket of clean utensils. ‘She fell, I guess. Sprained her wrist. But she’s okay.’

Missy chewed on her lip and stared at her shoes before lifting her gaze to her best friend. ‘Glad to hear it.’

Rose sighed. Missy knew well enough to leave some things alone.

A rumble of thunder vibrated the utensils in the nearby clean bucket.

Missy tsked. ‘Not sure we’re going to get a lot of customers today.’

Rose grabbed the bucket and held it against her hip. ‘I can handle it once the rest of the staff comes in if you want to leave early.’

Missy nodded. ‘Jake’s supposed to call today.’

‘What time? I’m sorry I dragged you out of bed.’

Missy waved a dismissive hand. Jake’s phone calls from overseas came sporadically, but Rose knew Missy didn’t want to miss one conversation with her husband who was on tour in the Middle East.

‘I’ll get the dining room set up,’ Rose said, grateful for the reprieve. She pushed through to the dining room and pulled the cords of each of the shades that covered the massive bay windows, giving customers a view of the stretch of ocean. The outside patio seated most of the customers. In the summer months, people packed those seats from lunch through to dinner. Between the awning and the view, most preferred sitting outside. With the constant breeze across the Atlantic and the fans hung from the canopy, it was the perfect place to share a meal.

As she took the chairs from on top of the tables lining the interior dining room, Rose recalled the last meal she had with Mom at the house. It wasn’t her fondest memory of her mother. Pearl had snapped in the middle of the meal, shouting, and telling Rose to get out of her house. After ending up on the sharp end of a plastic knife – thankfully Rose had switched them a week before – Rose had no choice. She’d needed help.

Shaking those thoughts from of her head, she went to the serving station to start organizing. As she rolled the forks and knives into little napkin burritos, the storm outside raged.

A shiver rolled down her spine as the waves crashed against the rock jetty near the outdoor patio.

Storms always did this to her; ever since she was little and almost drowned in the ocean. Admittedly, she was more happy than sad when she finally moved out of her childhood home. No more danger right at her door. She preferred her walk-up apartment on the second floor of the widowed Mrs. Collins’s house.

Even though she no longer had a view of the ocean, she always felt it. It was something ingrained in her that not even a brush with death could stop. Coming to work at The Siren gave her that little hint of exhilaration while not forcing her to her knees in terror. It was a thin line, but she’d dealt with it. She was the only one who could take care of her mother. The only one who wanted to.

The napkin slipped from her trembling hands three times before she got it right.

Sometime later, Donnie, the 22-year-old busboy, sauntered into the dining room. He flipped the rest of the lights on and crossed into the kitchen, tying his chin-length brown hair to the nape of his neck before winking at Rose.

Holding back an eye roll, she pressed her lips together in what she hoped appeared as a polite smile.

He’d made moves on her, several times before. And much to his dismay, Rose turned him down every single time. He was cute but too young. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle the six-year age gap.

Though, some days, it felt like much more than that. Between caring for her ailing mother and working to pay the bills, there wasn’t time for dating. She was a spinster in the making, and it didn’t help that Missy constantly berated her about going on dates.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to be alone. She wanted love. More than she cared to admit. She had a specific picture in mind for her perfect relationship. It mirrored her parents to a T.

Pearl and Ben had been inseparable and even after years together, they were as in love as they were when they’d met.

There was no way she was getting that in The Burrow. The townies knew too much of her childhood, and tourists weren’t looking for long-term commitments. She knew that firsthand, and she’d never cross that bridge again.

The door opened, distracting her from her thoughts. Serving customers kept her mind busy. Missy had capitalized on the locals, offering sandwiches for reasonable prices during the off-season. It kept her employees paid and Rose from drowning in bills. She’d had more than enough to thank Missy for in her life.

Later that afternoon, after Rose insisted that Missy go home before her actual shift that evening, the lull in the flow of customers was a welcome retreat. While Rose didn’t want to think about Pearl, she felt a little sick when she forgot about her, even for a few minutes.

The bell above the side door jangled, shattering all thoughts of Pearl.

Two police officers walked through the doors. Even though they both had Town of Burrow patches stitched on the arms of their navy-blue shirts, she only recognized one of them. The other had his back turned and typed furiously on his phone.

Chief of Police, Patrick McCreary, met her eyes and nodded his head. A rotund man in his fifties, he had been around her house a lot during Rose’s teen years when Reen found herself in trouble more than a few times. Things had quieted down tremendously in the years since her departure, both at home and in town.

He removed his hat and droplets of rain slid to the floor. He smoothed down the few strands of hair left on his head.

‘Afternoon, Patrick,’ Rose said.

‘Rose,’ Patrick said. ‘It’s good to see you.’

The other officer turned around. A stone-faced guy, closer to her age than Patrick’s. His nose was thicker in the middle, looking as if he’d been in a lot of fights as a kid. His dark hair was thick and shaggy at the top of his head but buzzed on the sides. Otherwise, he was cleanly shaven. He looked more like a tourist than a local. The way his eyes darted across the restaurant confirmed it.

Rose suppressed a smile. If he was looking for crime in this place, he was about to be sorely disappointed.

‘I’m Rose,’ she said, leading them to a window booth.

‘Shane Cassidy.’ He offered his hand.

She took it. ‘Nice to meet you.’ His rough hand brushed over hers. She drew in a sharp breath and nearly dropped the menus. ‘I have a seat right over here for you,’ Rose said, trying to recover. It wasn’t as if many attractive men came to town to stay more than the summer.

Patrick slid into the booth. As she moved out of the way, she focused on Shane. For a second, she thought she noticed a lumbering in Shane’s gait, but when his eyes lifted to hers, she glanced outside, trying to hide the heat on her cheeks. The rain had slowed, but the sun had yet to peek through the clouds.

She dropped two menus on the table.

Patrick barely glanced at the plastic menu. That was the way it worked in The Burrow. You could tell the tourists from the townsfolk in seconds.

‘What’s good here?’ Shane asked.

‘Everything,’ Rose and Patrick said at the same time.

Patrick chuckled as Shane raised his thick eyebrows. ‘That’s helpful.’

Rose smiled at the joke, but he didn’t. He wasn’t teasing.

Rose cleared her throat. ‘Can I get some water for the table?’

‘Sure,’ Patrick said, smiling up at her with his grayish teeth. ‘And I’ll have a coffee too.’

‘I’ll be back to take your order.’ Rose crossed the room to prepare the waters and coffee.

‘Patrick,’ Mrs. Miller said from two booths over. She and her husband came into The Siren several times a week. An older couple in their sixties, they ran the antique and used bookstore closer to the town center.

‘Good afternoon, Sally,’ Patrick said, nodding toward them.

‘Who’s the new guy?’ Mr. Miller asked.

‘You know I’m retiring,’ Patrick said. ‘Shane here will be taking my position as chief come the summer.’

‘No kidding,’ Mr. Miller said.

‘What he means is, we’re happy to have you,’ Mrs. Miller said to Shane.

His jaw tensed; even Rose could sense his discomfort across the room. Newcomers to The Burrow weren’t used to the level of nosiness around these parts.

While the Millers went back to their clam chowder, Patrick and Shane continued their conversation.

Rose approached the table with two glasses of water and their utensils, trying not to make it appear as if she were eavesdropping.

‘You’re not in the big city anymore,’ Patrick said to Shane.

‘Oh? I had no idea.’ Shane leaned against the back of the booth and grunted. He glared out the window.

‘Ready to order?’ Rose asked.

‘Yeah,’ Shane said without looking her in the eye. He flipped over the one-page lunch menu. ‘Burger, medium.’

‘You want fries with that or a salad?’

Shane looked at Rose as if she’d sprouted two heads. ‘Fries.’

Rose leaned toward Patrick. ‘Soup and grilled cheese with bacon?’

‘You know me,’ Patrick said, handing over the two menus.

Rose took them and turned to Patrick. ‘You’re retiring? I had no idea.’

‘Yes, but Shane here is a great replacement. His father and I met at the academy. Been good friends ever since.’

‘Really?’

Shane scoffed. ‘We’re all one big happy family.’

She met Shane’s eyes. They were so brown that the pupils were barely discernable.

‘But Shane joins us from New York City. He’s well trained and perfect for The Burrow,’ Patrick said.

‘Not sure about perfect,’ Shane said, twirling his sunglasses over the slick wooden surface.

‘Let me put your order in,’ Rose said before skittering away. She walked through the swinging doors to the kitchen where Brody, Missy’s younger brother, was cleaning the grill.

‘Medium burger with fries and a Patrick special,’ Rose said, writing down the order on her pad and handing it over to him.

‘You got it,’ Brody said, turning his ice-blue eyes on Rose. Those who didn’t know the three-year age difference thought Missy and Brody were twins. Because of her friendship with Missy, Rose always felt a sisterly bond with Brody.

He and Reen had dated for a while in high school, but he was small-town. His family had lived in the same house for generations, a beautiful old colonial near the edge of town. Missy and Brody weren’t going anywhere. Reen couldn’t get out fast enough.

Rose glanced out the passthrough window at Patrick and Shane. ‘Did you know Patrick was retiring?’

‘I heard it around town,’ Brody said, slapping a pre-formed patty on the grill. The sizzling and popping sounds made her stomach growl.

‘I can’t imagine it,’ Rose said.

‘Times are changing.’

‘Yes. Yes they are.’ More than Rose ever wanted to admit.

Chapter 2

Rose left the restaurant at around 5 p.m. A spike in customers kept her busy until the end of her shift.

On the way to her car, she checked her phone for the hundredth time that day. She wondered if she should head back to the Whinding House to see Mom again or save it for tomorrow.

Even though she’d eaten one of the cast-off sandwiches that Brody had burned, she was still hungry. But her mind was too distracted, making her indecisive.

She drove to the library, intending to check out a few books to occupy her evening. As her nightly routine, Rose turned to wine and books before bed. Both numbed her mind and dulled her senses so she could escape to another place, far, far away from The Burrow. She loved her home, but with everyone knowing her business and asking about Pearl, by the end of the day she needed a break.

The rain hadn’t let up much, and she slowly navigated her car through the streets of the town. She leaned forward, peering through the sheets of rain pelting her windshield.

Those caught outside during the storm hurried across the sidewalks to find cover, huddling under jacket hoods and umbrellas. At least Rose wasn’t the only person annoyed with the weather. As she pulled into the parking lot of the library, a figure appeared in front of her car.

Rose slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop inches from the person.

Her heart threatened to beat from her chest as her hands gripped the wheel tight enough to stretch the skin over her knuckles, turning them white. She caught her breath, gulping in as much air as possible.

Shoving the door open, she stumbled outside. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you okay?’ Rose shivered as the rain soaked her from head to toe within seconds.

The woman wore little more than a black tank top and jogging shorts. She had long, almost black hair, which clung to her like a python, wrapping around her waist and one of her arms.

‘Did I hit you?’ Rose called over the noise of the downpour. ‘If you’re hurt, I can drive you to the hospital.’

The woman turned, and Rose sucked in a breath. The woman was much younger than Rose had initially thought. She was a teenager. Her lithe body shrunk away from Rose.

‘Or I can call someone?’ Rose glanced around, hoping that no one had seen her nearly hitting someone. She feared that everyone might think she was on an early path toward Pearl’s tendencies.

But when she turned to the girl again, she was gone.

On the drive home, the sky cleared enough that Rose turned off the rapid speed of the wipers. The familiar streets no longer offered her comfort. She scanned the area, pausing on each person walking through town. She searched for the girl who had appeared and disappeared quicker than Rose could blink. She took the long way home, winding through the streets of town, desperate to see the girl one more time. At the very least, she wanted to be sure she hadn’t hurt the girl, but from the way she left without a trace, Rose didn’t understand why she was so worried.

It wasn’t until she passed the pier that her entire body broke out in gooseflesh.

Rose almost wished it was raining, so that she could have easily mistaken the long-haired girl for someone – or something else. She swung the wheel to the right and slammed her foot onto the brake. Crackling debris ricocheted off the bottom of her car as it skidded to a stop. After throwing the car into park, she flung the door open.

The breeze coming off the restless sea after the storm filtered through her already damp hair. Ice swirled down her spine.

Her reaction wasn’t just from seeing the girl again, who stood on the top railing of the pier – a dangerous feat even for a daredevil. Since the rocks were barely visible under the surface of the water, there was no way this girl would survive unscathed if she fell.

‘Hello,’ Rose called, cupping her hands over her mouth.

The girl glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Rose. Her expression was clear, almost regretful. Rose’s heartbeat thrashed in her ears. What was the girl doing?

Numbness seized Rose’s limbs, and she stood next to the car. ‘Come down from there, I can –’

Before she could finish, the girl lunged forward, falling into the open air.

Rose cried out and bolted toward the pier, unable to take her eyes off the girl as she plummeted into the water.

Rose stopped at the edge of the pier, gripping the wooden railing, even though the rough edges bit into her hands. An ache bloomed in her chest, and she held her breath.

The scene before her changed, throwing her back in time to when the moon was high and she could feel the water pressing against every inch of her body. Black spots exploded in her vision. Nausea overtook her, but she swallowed it down. Opening her eyes again, she scanned the watery depths. There was no sign of the girl.

But there had to be. Rose scoured every single movement of the water. There was no way the ocean could have taken her out that quickly. Was she injured and stuck under the pier, out of Rose’s vision?

Rose stood, transfixed by what had just happened. She waited for the girl to come up again. But she didn’t.

Heat moved behind Rose’s eyes.

She waited for a second more before she sprinted back to her car, grabbing her cell phone. She should have thought of it earlier. There was no way Rose could save the girl, but at least someone could try.

Dispatch picked up the line.

‘I need to report an accident,’ Rose said through choking breaths.

As the dispatcher asked her questions, Rose answered them, only seeing the girl’s eyes staring back at her, somehow thinking all of this was her fault.

‘Rose Barros?’ a gruff male voice cut through her.

Rose glanced up from her lap. Shane Cassidy stood there. A notebook rested in his hand with a pen in the other.

This was really happening. ‘Yes.’ The tips of her fingers were still numb, and the spot where she’d plucked out a wood sliver radiated with pain.

An ambulance and three police cars surrounded Rose’s car, blocking all possibility of escape. Though, as the only witness, she had a duty to help the police find the girl.

‘I’d like to go over what happened here.’

‘Sure,’ she said, sitting up straighter. She hadn’t moved from her seat since the incident. For some reason, her legs refused to follow orders. It was probably a good thing. Going back to the pier would only stick a knife further into her heart. As it was, she’d had trouble taking a full breath since it happened. Her body responded as if she were the one who had fallen.

‘Start at the beginning,’ he said, looking at her through his large sunglasses.

Her reflection stared back at her. In the small image, her eyes were wide, and her lips tugged downward.

She blinked and cleared her throat. ‘I saw her earlier.’

‘The victim?’ he asked.

Her teeth dug into her lip. ‘Yes. I almost ran into her at the library.’

‘You knew her?’

‘No. I literally almost ran into her. With my car. It was raining. She came out of nowhere.’

Shane’s lips pursed as he started to write on the small wire-bound pad in his hands. At least his penetrating gaze wasn’t on her anymore. ‘What happened after that?’

Rose shook her head. ‘I, um, looked away for a second and she was gone.’

Shane sniffed and poised his pen on the pad. ‘Okay. What happened after she disappeared?’

Rose went over every single moment from parking her car at the library, the time she’d spent there, and seeing the girl at the pier. ‘I called out to her. I thought she heard me. She looked at me and then jumped.’

‘She jumped?’

‘Yes.’

‘She didn’t slip?’

Rose shook her head. ‘I supposed she could have.’ Though, what was she doing up there if she didn’t plan on jumping?

Shane squatted in front of her. He was tall enough that he was at eye level. ‘Did she go head first or feet first?’

‘Head,’ Rose said after a moment.

Shane stood up again and wrote furiously on his pad.

‘Do you think they’ll find her?’

Shane sighed. ‘If you want my honest answer, I don’t think she’s coming out of there.’

A choked gasp escaped Rose’s mouth.

‘Hey.’ He reached for her, but stopped, his hand hovering in the air between them. ‘This isn’t your fault.’

‘I’m not so sure about that.’ I could have stopped her if I wasn’t such a damn coward.

‘If she wanted to jump, then that was her choice. If you hadn’t come along, she probably would have done it anyway.’

‘Shane,’ one of the officers called and Shane walked over to him.

Rose took the momentary reprieve to turn her head to the side. Tears threatened to fall, but she stared up at the ceiling of her car, refusing to cry in front of all these people.

When Shane returned, she’d regained her composure, at least as much as she could.

‘Is there anything else you remember about the girl from the library to the pier? Her reactions, emotions? Did she seem distressed?’ Shane asked.

Rose wiped at her nose. ‘No. I can’t think of anything right now.’

Shane tucked the pad into his pocket. ‘If you do, call the precinct. The number isn’t hard to remember.’ He smirked, but she didn’t return it.

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever smile again.

Shane sauntered away with his thumbs hooked in his belt as if he were already the chief.

Patrick appeared in her rearview mirror lifting the crime scene tape over his head before stepping past the line. Somehow, she found her legs again. She stood up and wobbled slightly before waving him down.

‘Rose,’ Patrick said, coming over to her. ‘How are you doing? Do you want to talk?’

An ache formed in her head. ‘Not really. At least not right now. Am I free to go?’

‘Did you give a statement?’

Rose nodded, feeling her mouth dry up like there were cotton balls stuffed inside.

‘Then you’re good to go.’ The skin around his eyes crinkled. ‘I can have someone accompany you if you want?’

‘No, that’s okay. You need help here. I hope they find her.’

‘Me too,’ he said and waved a hand at the officer standing by the tape. ‘You’re clear to drive through.’

‘Thanks.’

As she drove away from the pier, Rose stared at the road ahead. There were plenty of familiar faces in the crowd. It wasn’t a sight that any resident saw on a routine basis. The last time Rose saw a crime scene was on the news.

All the onlookers peered inside of her car as she passed. Her shoulders slumped as if she could make herself smaller. She knew she’d have a lot of questions coming her way. It was why she needed distance. At least if she could think through all of it, then she’d be able to sleep tonight and prepare herself for answering questions from the curious townies.

After arriving at the house, she quietly slipped up the stairs to her apartment before Mrs. Collins spotted her. Mrs. Collins rarely left her home, but she positioned her couch within arm’s length of her landline phone. She knew more gossip than anyone in town and did so without much effort.

The apartment was quiet as the echo of the crashing ocean faded from her mind. The image of the long-haired girl followed Rose around. She appeared in the corner of her bedroom as Rose changed out of her work clothes and even in the bathroom where she scrubbed the day off her body.

The girl accompanied Rose until she couldn’t take it anymore. Instead of digging into the stack of Highland Romances that she’d picked up from the library, she poured a glass of wine and settled at her desk.

As the computer booted up, she took a long drag from the glass. She rolled the sweet Cabernet around in her mouth as her fingers hovered over the keypad.

Without a name, what could she search for?

The girl couldn’t have been more than 18 years old. Was there a place to search for missing teens?

Rose scoured local newspapers, pushing out into Rhode Island and Massachusetts. The few relevant articles that she found didn’t match any descriptions of the girl.

Was it too soon for anyone to report her missing? Kids might still be doing after-school activities, so it was possible that no one would have noticed yet.

She drained the glass of wine and closed her laptop. She had as much information as she did walking through her front door. But in that time, she hadn’t worried about Pearl at all.

Purpose settled deep within her bones. Rose stood up and silently vowed to find out more about this girl and what had caused her to jump to an early and watery grave.

Chapter 3

For years, Rose thought she’d finally beaten the nightmares. After seeing the girl jump into the ocean, they came back with a vengeance. This time, she wasn’t alone. The long-haired girl’s face joined her in the water. Those beautiful and mysterious eyes widened until they looked as if they were going to pop out of her head. Bubbles flurried around her mouth as her lips tried to form words.

Rose reached out to her, but she froze in fear. The scaly object tightened around their legs, dragging both of them downward.

Over the years, the events from that night shifted. Mom never gave her an answer about how she knew Rose was in the ocean. And seaweed didn’t have that kind of force behind it. The questions never left her mind, but each time she asked Pearl about it, the devastation in her mother’s eyes prevented her from pushing.

That night had been traumatic for Pearl too. Rose hated to see Pearl upset about anything, so eventually, she stopped asking. And had refused to step into the ocean since. Reen tried to change her mind about the ocean, but it never worked. The fear was so paralyzing that it cost Rose the closeness with her sister too.

The flickering image of the girl followed Rose around her apartment all morning. Without a phone call from the Whinding House, she had no excuse to be late for work again, even if she was seeing someone who wasn’t there.

Throughout her shift at The Siren, her mind wandered enough that her work suffered. There were only a few customers, but Rose managed to screw up at least one item on most of their orders.

It didn’t help that every single local who came into the restaurant mentioned the girl who’d committed suicide on the pier.

Local gossip never bothered her much unless she was the center of it. The last time she’d felt this way was when the rumors swirled around town about Mom ending up in the middle of the park, dressed in her Sunday best, at two in the morning.

Most asked about her involvement.

Did you know the girl?

That must have been so awful.

Did you see her body?

She muttered quick and dismissive responses, not wanting to dwell more than a few seconds on the topic.

By the end of the day, she had the urge to jump off the pier herself.

The one thing all the conversations had in common was that no one knew the identity of the girl. There weren’t any missing locals, at least as far as anyone knew.

Desperation fueled the relentless thoughts swirling in her mind. Once she got the girl out of her head, then she’d be able to release the ghost following her around and get back to a normal and nightmare-free life.

The dinner crowd kept Missy busy enough in the kitchen to almost miss Rose sneaking out the back door.

‘You know I’m going to stop over tonight,’ Missy called to her.

‘Bring wine,’ Rose said as she pulled the door closed.

Rose had only been to the Burrow Police Department twice in her life. With her tendency to stay out of trouble, there was no need, other than the obligatory elementary and middle school field trips. She passed it on the way to the Whinding House but rarely gave the tan brick building a second look.

Her clammy hands curled around the steering wheel as she drove past the police cars parked in a row at the far end of the lot.

Pressure built in her throat and she drew in several breaths before trying to get out of the car. She had a right to get closer. Patrick had asked her if she needed anything.

Yes, Patrick, all I need to know is who she was. Then I can go back to my ordinary life instead of seeing her everywhere.

When she finally got out of the car, she steadied herself and picked up her pace toward the building.

The front doors spilled into a lobby. The gray-tiled floors were slick and impeccably clean. At the far end of the room was a desk with a female uniformed officer typing away at a computer. Her thin lips pursed as she concentrated on her work.

It wasn’t until Rose stood right in front of her that the officer tilted her head to the side and lifted her gaze. ‘Good afternoon.’

‘Hi,’ Rose said, pushing through a shaky smile. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous; it wasn’t as if she had committed a crime. Well, an almost hit and run, but no one had charged her yet. ‘I’d like to speak with Patrick McCreary.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘I don’t. But I was the one who witnessed that girl jumping off the pier.’

The officer’s lips tugged downward. ‘So, you have more information.’ It wasn’t a question, and Rose chose not to answer. The officer picked up the phone and pressed one of the buttons on the keypad. She cradled the phone against her shoulder and focused on her computer screen again. ‘Yes, I have a Miss –’ She glanced at her, her thin eyebrows raised.

‘Rose Barros.’

‘Rose Barros. She’d like to speak with you about the suicide victim.’

Rose licked her suddenly dry lips. Suicide. It made sense that they’d leaped to that conclusion, but for some reason, it didn’t sit well with her. It was too final.

‘I’ll send her back,’ the officer said and placed the phone down before standing up.

The officer towered over Rose. She hadn’t looked that tall in her chair. ‘Come with me,’ the officer said and headed down a narrow hallway behind her desk.

Rose hastened her steps to keep up with the officer’s long stride. After passing through two key-padded doors, they arrived at a door that read ‘Chief of Police’ on the placard.

The officer knocked and stood with her hands clasped behind her back.

Rose straightened her spine, then thought better of it. She loosened her shoulders. There was no reason to be nervous about anything.

The door swung open and Rose – fully expecting to see Patrick – saw a stone-faced Shane in the doorway.

His arms were crossed in front of him. ‘You have more information?’

The female officer abandoned Rose. The rapid clicking of her shoes matched the pace of Rose’s heartbeat. She’d expected Patrick to be alone, but it made sense that Shane would be with him since he was taking over soon.

She craned her neck to peer around him. ‘Is Patrick here?’

‘Through here,’ Patrick said from inside of the room.

Rose squeezed by Shane. He moved to the side, barely letting her through the doorway.

‘Sorry to barge in without an appointment.’

‘No need to apologize,’ Patrick said, waving her over to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Patrick’s office was simple. Rose wouldn’t think of him any other way. Two tall filing cabinets and a bookcase took up one side of the room. The only window in the room looked out onto the main road. She wondered if they saw her coming and were expecting more from her, when in fact she wanted something from them.

‘You have more information about the case?’ Shane repeated. He moved to stand in front of her, leaning up against the desk. His sunglasses perched on top of his head. She preferred them between her and his piercing gaze.

‘No.’ She sat in the chair, wondering if this was the worst idea she’d ever had. Clearing her throat, she said, ‘I wanted to know if there was any information on the girl.’

Shane and Patrick shared a look.

‘What information do you need?’ Patrick asked.

‘Are you sure it was a suicide?’ Rose asked.

Shane stood all the way up, leaning forward. ‘Do you have any reason to think otherwise?’

‘No. I – I can’t imagine what her family must be feeling.’ Rose knew loss.

Shane’s eyebrows drew together, and he tilted his head to the side as if he were a dog listening to a high-pitched whistle. Was her request that out of the ordinary?

‘That’s understandable,’ Patrick said. ‘But without a body there’s no way we can identify her.’

‘Then, potentially, she could be alive,’ Rose said.

‘She didn’t come out of the water,’ Shane said. ‘At least that was what you reported, correct?’

Rose’s heart sunk in her chest, enough that she thought her ribs were going to cave in.

‘Listen, Rose.’ Patrick got up from his chair. He rounded the desk and sat down next to her. ‘There was nothing you could do. It’s a tragedy, but you shouldn’t worry about it. If we find out anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.’

‘Is that how it works around here?’ Shane asked him.

Patrick glanced at Rose and pressed his lips into a thin line. ‘Rose is upset. We take care of our own around here.’

‘But sharing confidential information like that, to a civilian?’

Rose gritted her teeth, listening to them speak as if she wasn’t in the room.

Patrick rubbed his hands together as if he were trying to start a fire out of thin air. ‘Rose isn’t on trial here,’ Patrick said.

Shane carried on as if he hadn’t heard the chief. ‘If you know something, tell us. Otherwise, all we have to go on is your word. And right now, it looks like a suicide.’

The rush of the ocean filled her ears and the room tilted. A flash of the girl under the water filled her vision. Heat surged under her skin and tears pricked behind her eyes.

Rose stood from her chair. The legs scraped against the tile floor. ‘I’m sorry I came.’ Her fingers brushed over her eyes, wiping away her tears. If she could pick one thing she hated about herself, it would be breaking down with intense emotion.

Once she was in the hallway, she dashed toward the exit. She avoided eye contact with the female officer in the lobby and shoved through the front doors.

By the time she reached her car she was out of breath. Why was this girl affecting her so? Why couldn’t she accept that she’d committed suicide? There was nothing that told her otherwise. Rose was there. She saw the girl jump. But without the body, a shred of hope bloomed in her chest.

Where her life once made sense, now it was a jumble of questions. Was she the only one fighting for this girl? With the push back from Patrick and Shane, Rose knew she had to be careful if she wanted some answers.

And she would get them with or without their help.

The library had closed around seven o’clock that night. If the girl walked from the library to the pier, someone had to have seen her.

Rose’s skin prickled as she pulled into the parking lot for the second time in two days. It wasn’t completely for the memory of nearly mowing the girl down, but for the possibility of finding out who she was and why she thought that ending her life was more important than life itself.

The sun had started its descent in the sky, and she knew Missy would call soon. It had been some time since the two of them met up. Rose missed her friend. Seeing her at work wasn’t the same as being with her outside of The Siren. Most of their conversations revolved around Pearl. Rose’s top priority was building their friendship back up to where it used to be before Pearl had started her steep descent.

A shiver rolled down her spine as she thought of her mother. She hoped that if Mom had any lucid moments she wouldn’t accuse Rose of abandoning her in that place. Would she ever remember how much Rose tried to keep their family together? It started after Dad died. The threads between the three women left behind whittled away until they frayed and were too thin to grasp. First, Mom checked out of her life, followed by Reen’s unexpected departure.

As she entered the library, Rose’s shoulders dropped slightly. There was something about this place that made her feel more at home than her actual house. Several stone columns reached up to the two floors with elegantly curved capitals at the top. A wrought-iron railing was the only segregation between the first and second floors, giving an opportunity for those in the stacks to have access to the patrons below.

The sound of Rose’s footsteps echoed across the open space.

The openness reminded her of The Burrow as a whole, where nothing divided the citizens from each other. Which led to thin boundaries. That was why she was determined to learn all the secrets of the girl who’d jumped. She seemed to be the only one who believed there was something more to it.

There wasn’t much time to get the answers she wanted, so she didn’t waste any time heading over to the circulation desk at the center of the main lobby.

The librarian, Mrs. Henshaw, glanced up at her. A smile pulled at the wrinkles around her mouth. She dropped her pink-rimmed glasses to her chest, and they hung there, held up by a thin-corded rope around her neck.

‘Back so soon?’ Mrs. Henshaw asked.

Since Rose started coming to the library, Mrs. Henshaw hadn’t aged a day.

Rose leaned against the top of the desk, picking at her cuticles. How was she going to start this conversation?

Mrs. Henshaw was a stickler for the library hours, and she’d close shop soon. ‘I wanted to ask if you heard about that young girl who jumped off the pier last night.’

The librarian clicked her tongue. ‘A tragedy.’

Rose’s ears perked up. ‘She was last seen in front of the library. Yesterday afternoon.’ She didn’t want to implicate herself more than necessary, so she left out the important detail that she was the one who’d seen her.

‘Oh, dear.’

‘You didn’t see her?’

‘No. But I would have remembered a new face.’

Rose glanced behind her, wondering if any of the volunteers had seen the girl. The children’s section was on the same side as the parking lot. Someone had to have seen something through the wide front windows.

‘Why do you ask?’ Mrs. Henshaw said, cutting through Rose’s thoughts.

There was no way she could answer that question honestly without explaining her strange obsession with the girl. ‘No reason.’ She cleared her throat and the tremble in her voice. ‘Curiosity, I guess.’

Mrs. Henshaw bobbed her head. ‘There are plenty of other places to do such a thing. I’m glad she wasn’t one of our own.’

Rose’s breath hitched in her throat, catching for a moment before she was able to release it. Like at the precinct, she’d asked the wrong question. If she knew why the girl came to The Burrow, then Rose would be able to track that back to who she was. The wide-eyed girl flashed in her mind again, wandering around the town before taking her life. What happened that forced her into that decision?

‘Well, I need to start closing up,’ Mrs. Henshaw said. ‘Can I help you find something?’

‘No,’ Rose said. ‘I was going to return something, but I forgot and left the book at home.’

Mrs. Henshaw pressed her lips together. She reached over and patted Rose on the arm. ‘It will get better, dear.’

Rose slowly turned away from the woman, her eyebrows knitting together.

It wasn’t until she reached the car that she realized what Mrs. Henshaw had implied. While every cell in her body wanted to rush back and tell the woman that she wasn’t losing her memory, she thought better of it. It was easier for her to think that Rose was losing her mind like Pearl, instead of knowing that she was on a hunt to find a dead girl and any clue to the girl’s past.

Chapter 4

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.