“What are you going to do with that name she gave you?” Brent asked as he pulled into the middle of the street, driving toward the path at the end of the road. Taylor stared at it, unblinking the entire time.
“What name?” she asked on reflexes alone.
“The guy who used to live in your dad’s old house. The one at Gilden Hospital.”
“Trevor Hayes. We’re going to go see him tomorrow morning,” Taylor said.
Brent blew out a deep breath. “Taylor, you’re acting all weird. Tell me what’s really going on. Your dad won’t let you come back to this town, but why? What happened? It has something to do with the Smiths, right? The documentary I saw that you wouldn’t watch with me. What is it?” Brent’s voice was rising.
Taylor owed him part of the truth. “Brent. Fine. Pull over.” He did, and she could still see the path in the rearview mirror. She almost urged him to drive farther before they talked about it. “It was me. I was part of it. My grandma was related to the Smiths, a couple of generations past. My dad came here twelve years ago to help Aunt Beth empty out the house we were just inside.”
Brent’s eyes were wide, but he didn’t speak, letting her continue. “He got mixed up in it when a kid was taken his second night here. My mom and I came at the end, and I was…”
“What is it?” he asked, grabbing her hand.
“I was taken outside of the restaurant we had breakfast at.”
“What the hell, Taylor? Why didn’t you tell me before?” His hand jerked back, as if she was a poisonous snake about to bite.
“I didn’t want anyone to know. Jesus, can you imagine if they knew I was the Smiths’ last victim?” Taylor purposely left out the bogeyman from the tale. She didn’t think Brent was ready to hear it.
He shook his head, and his eyes softened. “Damn. What happened?”
“It wasn’t quite like it happened on the documentary. My dad found me. He knew where to look because he was taken as a boy too, only his memories were suppressed by a doctor. It’s a whole thing.” It felt good to tell someone about the secret life she’d kept buried for so long.
“How did he get away? And why would they take him, if he’s related? I don’t understand,” Brent said in a rush.
“Neither do we. They were deranged. One of the deputies saved Dad, but was later killed saving me in the end,” Taylor said.
“You mean the one and only Sheriff Cliff? The man was a hero. I remember hearing about it when I was a little kid. It made me want to become an officer when I grew up,” Brent said.
“That’s him.” Taylor looked away, out the window. “So now you know why I’m so interested.”
“What do you hope to get out of this? Aren’t they all gone? The Smiths, that is?” Brent asked.
“I don’t know. There could be more.”
“But why would they wait twelve years and abduct someone else?”
“That’s why I’m here, Brent. I’m going to solve this, and I have a feeling it dates back a long way. I need you to stay with me, and no matter what you see, you have to trust me, okay?” Taylor asked.
“Yeah, of course.”
“That’s not good enough. Promise me you’ll believe anything you see or hear. I’m not crazy. Things are going to get serious, and I need you to support me,” Taylor said, wishing she hadn’t dragged Brent into her mess.
“Tay, you’re scaring me.”
“You need to promise me.”
He nodded solemnly. “I promise.”
“Good. Let’s head over to the diner to pick up Isabelle. I told her we’d be there for five.”
Brent’s hands were steady as he grabbed the steering wheel, guiding the car into the middle of the street.
Taylor watched in the mirror one last time as the pathway shrank from her view. She saw the flap of the dusty cardboard box in the backseat and couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about it. They’d have to go over it in Isabelle’s room later.
Brent remained silent for the rest of the trip to the diner, and Taylor texted her cousin when they arrived.
“Don’t want to go in?” Brent asked.
“No. Dad keeps in contact with Charlie, the owner.”
“I thought it was called Chuck’s?”
“It is. Dad just knew him as Charlie when they were kids. I don’t want him knowing I’m here. I guarantee he’d call my dad if he did.” Taylor wondered how many other people would call him. As long as her aunt and uncle kept their word, she thought she might be in the clear. She didn’t see Tyler or Nick often, and hadn’t since she was in high school. They used to visit her dad in the city at least once a year, but as time passed, the visits had become less frequent.
Seven
The car’s headlights shone through the glass, and the woman shaded her eyes as she peered at the people behind the windshield. A handsome young man was in the driver’s seat, and there was a girl beside him. Her gaze darted around nervously, and something about the newcomer set off warning bells.
The woman stared, trying not to be obvious but failing miserably. She tapped the table with a long fingernail, the staccato picking up in pace as her heart raced. Who was this girl, and why did her presence alert this woman’s alarms?
She could feel the apparition she was linked to scream out in anger, the result a gnawing on the woman’s mind. It was like a thousand paper cuts over her brain, and she fought the urge to shout in agony. A single tear fell down her cheek, and she rubbed it away harshly as the pain subsided.
“My shift is over. Do you mind if we clear up? Unless you want a slice of apple pie?” the waitress asked.
“No pie for me. Especially apple,” she muttered.
The woman wiped her eyes
