She glanced out to the street where it had happened, and intense fear rushed into her. She closed her eyes and saw her mom frantically searching for her as she was dragged away, unable to scream.
“Taylor?” a voice called from the other end of the diner. She snapped out of it as her cousin raced over to her, arms spread wide.
“Isabelle!” Taylor said, wrapping her cousin in a big hug. “It’s so good to see you!” She meant it. They’d become close as little girls, only ever seeing each other when the family came to visit them in Manhattan.
“Likewise,” Isabelle said. She was wearing a pale blue uniform, the name Chuck’s stitched above the left breast. Her cousin wore her hair in twin braids, each hanging over her shoulders. It made her look younger than she was. “This must be Brent.”
Brent stuck his hand out to shake Isabelle’s, but the girl gave him a hug instead. “We’re all family.”
A thought struck Taylor with such ferocity, she almost ran for the door. “Where’s Chuck?”
“You mean Charlie? He’s not in until two this afternoon,” Isabelle said, and relief flooded Taylor.
“Good. He knows my dad and still talks to him occasionally.” And, as if she needed to explain this to her bewildered cousin: “Remember, I’m not supposed to be here.”
“I know. I just hope Mom can keep it to herself. You know how she loves spreading gossip,” Isabelle said, emphasizing the statement with a dramatic eye roll.
“How about some food?” Brent asked, and Isabelle led them into the diner, toward a private booth at the edge.
A few tables were full. A pair of seniors sat quietly sipping coffee at one, a young family with two screaming children at another. The dad glanced at Taylor apologetically before shoving a crayon toward the kid with jam all over his face.
“Remind me never to have kids,” Brent whispered to her, and she laughed, unsure how to reply.
They weren’t in that kind of relationship where they openly talked about their future together. Maybe she did want kids, but she was only twenty, and her parents had reiterated that she shouldn’t make any major life decisions until she was thirty. Taylor thought that was a little overkill, but got their point.
Isabelle placed two laminated menus on the table top. Taylor’s legs stuck to the red nylon bench cover as she shifted position, letting Brent slide in beside her.
“I’ll be back with coffee. Judy makes a mean omelette if you’re into that kind of thing.” Her cousin left, and Brent looked after her.
“She’s a cute one. Why is she still here in Red Creek?” Brent asked, striking a nerve.
Taylor didn’t want to show it, but Isabelle was more than cute. She’d always felt inadequate around the younger girl. Any time they’d go out in the city, boys gave her the attention, and for the most part, that was fine with Taylor, but to hear Brent say it set her blood boiling.
“She doesn’t know what to do. The schools here suck, and her grades weren’t fantastic, so she’s taking some night classes online and wants to eventually get to Bellton too. We’ll be roommates,” Taylor said, and suddenly, the dream the two girls had shared for so long felt false, a lie they told themselves to keep going.
“That sounds good. What are you having?” Brent asked, and Taylor scanned the menu, not even seeing the words across it.
She was here in Red Creek, and it seemed sad but normal. After years of fear-mongering by her parents, she wondered if any of it was real. Her memories of that night felt real enough, but somehow, sitting in the diner, it felt like it might be a sham.
Isabelle came over, poured them two coffees from the classic metal-bottomed carafe, and asked what she could get for them. She was so professional, and Taylor bet the locals loved her.
“Cheese omelette with mushrooms and bacon, please.” Brent slid his menu toward her and leaned in with a grin over his face.
“That sounds good. Make it two,” Taylor said without thought.
“I’ll be right back. It’s quiet. We can talk,” Isabelle said, and sauntered off toward the kitchen.
“So what are we going to do here?” Brent asked, looking around the room. “This town doesn’t seem like a nice place to visit. Do they have a theater or anything?”
Taylor shook her head. “Gilden is down the highway. They have all the stuff you’d expect from a civilized town. We can head there for a day or two this week,” she promised.
Isabelle was back in a few minutes with their plates, piled high with hash browns and toast beside the omelettes. It was far too much food. Brent didn’t seem to think twice as he dug into it, eating with the ferocity of a twenty-year-old man.
“Still no word on Brittany Tremblay?” Taylor asked quietly.
“Nothing. Dad says they found her pants and a shoe in the garbage can at her house, and the gate was unlatched. Other than that, there’s no sign of her. Mom’s freaking out, Tay. She won’t let me out of her sight, like I’m a little girl. I keep telling her that it doesn’t take adults, unless they get in the way.” Isabelle spoke in hushed tones, and Taylor leaned in to hear her.
“Wait. Who’s this ‘it’ you’re talking about?” Brent asked between bites.
Isabelle glanced up at Taylor, meeting her gaze. “I meant them… the Smiths only take kids,” the waitress said.
“But I thought they were all dead now. At least, the ones involved.” Brent spread some jam over a slightly burned piece of toast.
Taylor thought about that. Actually, she was related to the Smiths. Her grandmother had lost the name when her mother had married, long ago. That fact didn’t sit easily with Taylor.
“And no kid has gone missing in twelve years, until now,” Isabelle said, gaze darting to the door as the chimes rang. “I have to work. Taylor, can you
