Page 33 of Home Is Where the Bodies Are

It’s not a stupid question though. It’s what people ask. And the answer is alwaysfineorgood, because no one wants to actually hear how you’re doing.

“Thanks.” I fold in my lips. “Are you still with the Walworth County Sheriff’s Office?”

He nods. “Yep. Going on nearly twenty years. I’m actually in the Detective Bureau now.”

My eyes flick to Nicole for a moment. She and Michael fought me on telling anyone about the tape and now she’s going out of her way to uncover what happened. I wonder if Casey finds it suspicious that she’s interested in the case after all these years. What did she tell him? What reason did she give him for wanting that information?

“Congrats,” I say, though I’m not even sure that’s the right thing to say. My gaze bounces back and forth between Nicole and Casey. It’s like we’re in a standoff but no one has a gun. Well, actually there’s probably one hiding beneath Casey’s raincoat, tucked in the waist of his jeans, or nestled in a holster. But in this case, the gun is the truth and only Nicole and I are holding it.

“Are you done?” Nicole directs her question at me. Her tone is full of attitude, and she taps her foot against the pavement.

“What’s with the case file?” I need to know how she convinced him to swipe it.

“Nicole messaged me, asking if I had access to it and if I could get it for her,” Casey starts to explain, but Nicole interrupts. “Yeah, for the true crime book I’m writing about Emma Harper’s disappearance.Remember, Beth?” She raises an eyebrow—her way of telling me to go along with her story.

“Oh, yeah, that. I thought it was just an idea. I didn’t know you were serious about it.” My words weave together, forming a somewhat convincing lie. I glance at Casey. His face is unchanged, so I think he’s buying it.

“Now you know.” Nicole cocks her head.

Casey clears his throat. “It’s great that you’re doing that. Obviously, we were teens when she disappeared, but I always thought it was sad that they never found out what happened to her,” he says. “Things like buttons and keys go missing. People shouldn’t.” He shakes his head and then gestures to the envelope. “At one point in time, that was the most important case file in this county. Now, no one even noticed me taking it. It’s like a toy a child’s lost interest in.”

We stand there in silence, unsure of what to say. It’s true. The case went cold after the first year. People forgot. Children played in the streets past dark again. It was like it never happened.

Casey pushes his sleeve up to check the time. “I’ve gotta get going,” he says to Nicole. “It was good seeing you, Beth.”

“Likewise.”

“And Nicole.” His eyes swing to her, and his face softens. “Let me know if you need anything else. I mean anything. I’m here.”

Nicole smiles. “Thanks, Casey.” She leaves unsaid the words I know she wants to say. “I’ll text you.”

He nods and heads to his vehicle. I don’t say anything until he’s out of earshot.

“You could have just told me, Nicole.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” she says, stomping back toward the treatment center.

Nicole’s always been that way, closed off, almost sneaky. She’s lied for so long about her addiction and the things she’s done that I don’t think she knows where the truth starts and ends.

NINETEEN

LAURA

JUNE 15, 1999

There’s a knock at the front door. It’s frantic, and I know immediately something is very wrong. My eyes go to Nicole, who is on the couch writing in her journal. Michael and Beth are lying on the floor, bellies down, elbows propped up, playingZombies Ate My Neighborson Sega. Brian is seated in his recliner, half watching the video game, half reading the newspaper opened in his lap. It’s after eight p.m., and my family is all accounted for. My mind always goes there... always. I set my book down and jump from my seat.

“If it’s Christie, tell her I’m not home,” Beth calls over her shoulder, never taking her eyes off the TV screen. I groan at her teenage callousness as I make my way to the front door.

The knocking continues, harder and faster.

I swing it open to find Susan standing on the other side. Her face is a crumpled, wet mess and her bottom lip trembles.

“Susan, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Emma’s missing,” she cries. “Have you seen her? Is she here?” Her words come out like the knocks on the door, hard and fast and frantic.

“What? What do you mean? No, she’s not here.”

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