the Collers, had been her neighbors and friends for years. The news of their son’s death had hit her especially hard.
“So what exactly are you doing with these archives?” Rita asked her friend, brushing her fingertips against the old albums. The sent of the leather was binding and the ancient pages were intoxicating.
Kelly regained her composure and a new hint of determined purpose lit her eyes.
“Do you remember two years ago? Right when you moved here a tourist boy had gone missing. He was 10 years old. I remember because I thought to myself that he was a little old to be wandering and go missing. They found him in the bottom of the cove. It looked like he had gotten tangled in a mooring anchor. But when they brought him to the coroners it was obvious it wasn’t an accident. I can’t remember why.”
“I remember but that’s not the same situation as we have here. That was in the cove. These kids where in the caverns,” Rita countered, hoping and praying that they were indeed unrelated events only similar in their tragic outcomes.
Kelly stared at her incredulously before resuming her argument. “Yes, alright I’ll admit they are different. I know I’ve heard of this before though. Before the boy a few years ago,” she slid one of the large tomes down to their desk. “I can’t remember but it was from when I was gone to college. I remember mom telling me something when I came home during the breaks. Lecturing about being careful when I went out tide pooling and walking with friends, to stay away from the caverns. Something about a lost boy Billy, or Bobby, or… I just can’t remember. But you know. What if this isn’t the first time? I mean, what if it’s happened before?”
“Woah. Hold on a second.” Rita felt the anxiety rising like a tide within her throat. She knew exactly what memory her friend was struggling to find but hated to concede the possibility of any pattern that could be attacking their peaceful town. She had moved here to get away from the evils of the world, not to run into their arms again. “I remember that story. But Kelly, you have to realize what you are saying. I know it’s hard from you, David’s death, but that doesn’t make this tragedy into some sort of serial situation. Don’t you think that’s a little too “daytime drama” for Oyster Ridge?
“Just tell me his name.” Kelly replied, determined now more than ever to see through what she had begun.
“Okay, okay. It was Bobby. Bobby Warren. His family had come down from some town up north in the mountains. His dad was an abusive alcoholic though so when he went missing it was assumed that dad had lost him. When they found his body in the caverns his dad was the top suspect but they never had anything to convict him with besides public drunkenness. ”
“What year was it? Do you remember?” Kelly’s intensity was truly ignited now with this information. “There has to be a connection. Children don’t just die in the same place on purpose. Come on Rita, I remember you were like a detective or something back in college.”
“It was investigative journalism. Not detective work.” Rita countered. “But of course I’ll help I mean this is my home now too.” Here investigative journalism a little known fact of her previous life. She had loved that work but had given it up when Judy was born and had never looked back.
Kelly flashed a small smile of gratitude.
Rita continued, her face set in fierce look of concentration. “Right. So it was the year before I left. So it must have been 85”. It almost killed the tourism economy that year so it must have been right before summer. But I’m not sure.”
Kelly chewed her bottom lip staring at her friend before returning back to the impressive pile. She scanned the spines of the records and slid out the bottom three for inspection. Once verified she turned back to Rita. “Alright, here they are. All of 1985 clippings and press releases. We have to find something.”
Rita sighed, wishing she had taken a little longer dropping Brian and Judy off at school that morning. It was going to be a long day. Opening the cover of her assigned reading selection however she felt the rush of rediscovery, the sense of history revealing its secrets for her to relive again. A history before her adult years; before a failed marriage, before everything that had led her back to this sleepy town that seemed to have come alive with a different intention.
4 hours, 5 cups of overly strong coffee and 2 sandwiches later the women had found 10 articles revolving around the disappearance and discovery of Bobby Warren. Echoing the current situation, Bobby’s tragic story told of a boy, with an abusive alcoholic for a dad, going missing only to be discovered two weeks later in Rock Caverns. He was unrecognizable except for a scar on the top of his hand. His face and head had been mutilated; his body had been cut and sliced in multiple places. A marking along his spine had sent the police speculating about a cult of some kind although everyone had known that such a thing couldn’t exist in such a hole of a town. The story sent shivers through the women as they relived an event from before their childhood. How could something have happened so long ago and then again just yesterday? It didn’t seem plausible and yet both knew that it was exactly what it appeared to be. The only problem now was convincing Chief Merrels that history was repeating itself.
Chapter 3
Rita left the library in a rush, her mind still reeling from the information she and Kelly had found in the archives. Suddenly she felt the weight of intuition bearing down on her shoulders. Any child could be in danger. Although it seemed that the only targets so far were younger, still Brian was in that age group. “No need to panic,” she told herself. These are the kind of things that happen to other people. Not to you. Although, she added, that is exactly what the other people say too. She pushed her ancient Dodge to its max speed, determined that minutes could make the difference in her children’s futures.
At the school Rita arrived just in time to see the bell ring and the children file out. Being a small town, Oyster Ridge had only one school that served to the educational needs of the 215 local children. Seeing their mom arrive, Judy waved goodbye to her friends and headed towards the car. Rita scanned the crowd with a rising sense of panic for her son’s bright orange backpack and yellow hat he had insisted on wearing that morning. She spotted him standing next to his teacher, Mr. Jack Morrin. Mr. Morrin was one of the most eligible bachelors Oyster Ridge had to offer and Kelly had made many attempts to set the Rita up with him on a blind date but Rita had politely declined the offer. She hadn’t felt ready and to be honest with herself, the man was just a little too good looking. He had the trim, but athletic build, of a man used to outdoor activities mixed with the educational aura of a middle and high school history teacher. Many a female vacationer had attempted to grab his attention for a summer fling but he had seemed impervious to all of them. Rumors had circulated more than once regarding his possible past when he had first arrive 10 years earlier, but they had quickly died down when it seemed he had adapted to well to the simple lifestyle of Oyster Ridge. Rita always felt uncomfortable around him but attributed it to the simple fact that she was uncomfortable around all men. She managed to pull of a smile as he saw her and waved a friendly hello. He bent down and said something to Brian who quickly nodded then bounded her direction with his lunch pail in one hand and orange back pack in the other.
“Guess what mom.” Brian said with an air of victory in his prompt.
Rita swallowed down the morning’s grisly contemplations and focused the rearview mirror on her sons freckled splashed face, currently sporting a broad smile that reminded her all too much of her ex-husband.
“Mr. Morrin says I can do my colonialism report on Australia! Isn’t that so cool?” Brian’s fascination with Australia had not lessened over the years, as Rita had hoped, but rather had grown to a fanatical obsession. Brian was sure the day would come when his father would come home to find his son all grown and an expert on the country he had called home. Rita had never found the heart over the last two years to tell Brian the truth about her father or Australia. She figured the day would come on its own. Two years later it had still not arrived.
Jack Morrin waved goodbye to Brian as the old blue dodge slowly worked its way back out of the parking lot. One of his favorite pupils, the boy showed a strong affinity for world history and mathematics and enjoyed staying after classes to talk and share with the teacher his thoughts and ideas from the school day’s lessons. Matthew had to admit he had grown fond of the boy but couldn’t find the strength to ask out his mother after she had rejected so many of Kelly’s attempts to set them up on a blind date. Not that she wasn’t attractive or approachable but rather, that he had spent so many years keeping people at bay he wasn’t sure how to break the habit. He watched the rust spotted tailgate disappear before he turned back to his classroom. He still had a lot of work to do and the night, for him, was only just beginning.
