Page 23 of All the Missing Pieces

Em opened the door wider, finally releasing Bear, who ran to press up against me in search of pets. “Maybe, maybe not, but I can ask someone to leave if I want them to go. And if they don’t, I have pepper spray and the sheriff’s department on speed dial.”

I gaped at my sister. “You didn’t ask her to leave?”

Emerson nibbled on the corner of her lip. “I was going to, but there was something about her.”

“Yeah, probably that she’s a fucking con woman.” Ridley might not be stealing money out of grannies’ checking accounts, but that didn’t make her any less of a swindler. Instead, she made that money off others’ pain and suffering.

My sister was quiet for a moment, and the hairs on the back of my arms stood at attention.

“What?” I pressed.

Emerson swallowed as she looked down the road where Ridley had disappeared. “She said she thought I was the first in a string of twenty-three abductions. That I could help her find him.”

An invisible fist twisted in my stomach.Him.The bastard who had nearly torn my sister from me.

I knew from every law enforcement training I’d done that the chances of Emerson’s abduction being a one-off were slim to none. But in the months and years following, there hadn’t been a single abduction in the area that fit the profile. So I’d always figured that the unsub had changed his MO. But Emerson’s words had a niggle of doubt settling in.

“She was bluffing. Trying to get you to talk to her. I had a deputy look her up while I was on my way over here. She has one of those true-crime podcasts.” People obsessed with that sort of stuff only made law enforcement’s job harder. Sticking their noses in where they didn’t belong and mucking up cases.

“I don’t know. There was something about her. Something that said she cared. She was desperate almost.”

“Desperate for a big payday probably,” I muttered.

Emerson stared at me for a long moment, as if she was trying to recognize the person in front of her.

“Come on,” I said, ushering her inside. “I’ll make you some tea and check the security system, make sure the alerts on that camera out by the road ping my phone along with yours. I’ll know if she comes back. I don’t want you opening the door for her again.”

Emerson stopped in the entryway crowded with her various works of art, Bear weaving circles around us. “If you keep dealing with everything for me, I’ll never get stronger.”

A fresh wave of guilt swept through me, a more complex one. The kind that meant trip wires and land mines. Because I hadn’t realized until it was too late how Em’s world had gotten smaller and smaller, until she was terrified to leave the property at all. She wouldn’t even go outside unless Trey or I was here with her.

The therapist in town called it agoraphobia. Said it could be triggered by a traumatic event. Em had tried to keep up with seeing her, but it finally became too much, and she stopped going altogether. Em had finished all her high school credits online, even gotten a college degree in graphic design that way. Now she worked in the same field, one where all her work could be completed over the internet. I delivered her groceries and mail. Our local doctor even made house calls for her.

“I’m not dealing with everything,” I argued. “I’m dealing with people who could cause you harm.”

Emerson’s jaw hardened. “I’m not weak.”

I reared back. “I didn’t say you were.”

“Maybe not with your words. But your actions say it time and time again.”

Acid burned at her accusation. Just more pain I was dumping at my sister’s feet. More guilt making its home inside me. So deep I knew I’d never get it out. I hated that I’d hurt her. I'd never wanted to cause Emerson any more pain than she’d already endured. But I couldn’t seem to stop stepping in to protect her. Because her safety mattered more than anything. So I’d take that guilt and let it drown me just a little more. It was the least I could do to atone for not being there when she needed me most.

9

RIDLEY

Pressure builtbehind my eyes as the wind whipped against my cheeks. But there were no tracks of wetness for the wind to find, no evidence of my grief for them to grab hold of in a stinging slap. My thighs burned as I climbed the hill on my bike, but I relished the pain, the proof I was alive.

I’d opted not to use the bike’s electric aid, simply tearing out of Emerson’s drive and heading for my temporary home. I knew I’d need the bite of discomfort to reel in my rioting emotions.

Colt’s words echoed in my head.You’re scum.

Maybe I was. Maybe I was worse than that. The lowest of the low. And not just for reminding Emerson of the worst moments of her life but for abandoning my sister when she’d needed me most.

My lungs burned as I pulled up to my campsite and slowed my bike to a stop. I simply stood there for a moment, just breathing. Breathing for her and for me—just like always.

I fished in my pack, pulling out my keys. The silver key ring glinted in the sunlight. I traced the lacrosse sticks with my fingertip as they rested in my palm. “I’m so sorry, Avs. You’ll never know how much.”

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