Brent pretended not to notice, and Taylor appreciated it. “Either way, thanks again.”
“You can have the basement couch, and Taylor gets the spare room. Please abide by our rules while staying here, and I think you’re both old enough to understand what that means,” Darrel said, heading into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer can, opening it with a pop. “Want one?” he asked Brent, extending his arm out.
Brent glanced at Taylor, and she gave him a slight nod, letting him know it wasn’t a test.
“Thanks,” Brent said.
“You are old enough, right?” Darrel pulled the can back and laughed.
“I’m only twenty, sir. But almost there. Another few months,” Brent said honestly.
“I was just messing with you. How about you, Taylor?” he asked, and she declined. She saw how much her uncle depended on the stuff, and she had enough to worry about.
“I’ll show you to your room,” Isabelle said, gripping one of the bags.
Taylor followed her down the stairs at the far end of the kitchen, leaving Brent to talk with her uncle in the kitchen. She was carrying the box and couldn’t wait to see what was inside the books and album. It was so weird to be in their house. She’d only spent a couple of nights there after the incident, but it was almost exactly the same as in her memory.
“This is strange,” Isabelle said, mirroring Taylor’s thoughts.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” They were at the bottom of the thick carpeted stairs, and Taylor noticed the family room was a little different.
“This is my spot to hang. I like it,” Isabelle said, as if defending her small patch of independence. The lamp had a scarf draped over it, casting pink light over the side of the room. There was an older flat screen on a TV stand across from a well-used leather couch.
“I love it, Izzy. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Some popcorn?” She and Taylor always watched some rom-com or another any time her cousin came to stay with them in the city.
“Don’t we have other pressing matters?” Isabelle asked, nodding to the box Taylor had placed on the coffee table.
Taylor heard the front door close and the muffled sounds of a woman’s voice upstairs. “Your mom’s home.”
“This is the pull-out bed.” Isabelle pointed to the sofa. “Just make sure Brent’s on it in the morning, because my parents will check.” She rolled her eyes as if to say how lame they were, and Taylor laughed.
She was feeling better about coming to Red Creek, now that she had a home base. Being around her family was giving her a sense of safety and security that had been missing as she’d toured the town throughout the day.
Taylor wanted to start sorting through the journal and photos, but they’d have to do that later. “Can I put this in the bedroom?”
Isabelle nodded. “This one,” she said, leading Taylor to a tiny space off the living room. There was a cramped bathroom beside it, with a toilet, a pedestal sink, and a cheap stand-up shower. The sink ledge was full of products threatening to fall to the floor.
“My room’s on the other side of the basement if you need anything,” Isabelle said with a smile. She was only a foot away, speaking softly. “I’m sorry things have been weird between our families. I wish you could have grown up coming to visit. It was hard for my parents to not have you guys around. And then to take money or hotels from your dad when we came to visit… well, you know how my dad can be.”
“I know. I’m sorry too.” Taylor wondered if Red Creek really was as bad as her dad always said. He was honest about it. He claimed it was just them that couldn’t be there, because of something his mom had said while he was visiting Greenbriar. Something about not having protection for Taylor. She pushed the thought away as her Aunt Beth called to them from upstairs.
“Girls, I brought pizza!”
Taylor did laugh now. “I’ve been here twice, and all I’ve ever eaten is pizza.”
Isabelle shrugged. “It’s an addiction my mom and I have. We can’t say no to a carb-loaded slice.” It was her cousin’s turn to laugh as they jogged up the stairs.
Taylor saw Brent in the living room, sitting on the sofa, Darrel in his own reclining chair. A newscaster was talking about the missing girl in Red Creek, and Taylor walked behind her uncle, staring at the screen.
“It’s been two days since the missing person was reported, but there are no signs leading to Brittany Tremblay’s location. We’re told a detective from Gilden is here taking over the case, and while this situation has the townsfolk worried, they’re happier to know someone with experience is hunting down the perpetrator.” The newscaster was a middle-aged man, his face grim as he held an umbrella outside the Town of Red Creek sign on the highway.
“What a bunch of BS,” Darrel said from his seat. “It took my buddies and me a trip to the orchard to crack it after how many years? Do they really think this clown is going to do any better than the sheriff?”
“What about Tyler? Is he doing a good job?” Taylor asked.
“Sure. He’s good. But he hasn’t had to deal with much other than some drug dealing and domestic violence. Nothing like all the missing kids old Cliffy and the rest before him had to work on,” Darrel said as Taylor’s aunt entered the room.
“Turn that off, Darrel,” Beth said. “We don’t need the reminder.”
“You know we can’t sweep this under the rug any longer, Beth.” Darrel got up and headed for the kitchen.
Beth crossed the cramped space and hugged Taylor firmly. “It’s so good to see you here, honey,” she whispered into Taylor’s ear. “You have no idea how good.”
Taylor smiled as emotions rose in her like a tide threatening to spill over. “I’m
