Page 26 of Secrets Along the Shore
“Did you know him? Did he threaten your family? Why did you follow him and what did you do to make him so angry that he killed you?”
Sophia did what she had a tendency to do now. She lifted her two fingers and held them for me to see.
Two.
I really was getting quite perturbed with that number.
Two killers. Hers and mine.
Two conflicting meanings about the snakes: dominance and submission.
“There are moretwosin your story?” I bother to filter the sarcasm in my voice. I steered the car toward a fast-food place. I need a hamburger. Protein. Saturated fats and grease.
Two.
It dawned on me then—and maybe it was elementary, and maybe Reuben and Dickson were already leap years ahead of me. But there weretwosets of victims. Sophia, and then the other two missing women. Reuben and Dickson were focused on profiling Sophia’s killer—with Reuben very focused on finding any ties to the Serpent Killer case.
But then who were the two missing women? The ones whose bodies had not been found, and who may still be alive?
I couldn’t imagine that these questions weren’t being explored by law enforcement, but I wasn’t exactly at the detective round table.
Blest be the tie that binds,Sophia whispered in my ear, but when I glanced into the back seat she was gone.
Wasn’t that a line from an old hymn?
Without the slightest clue why Sophia had dropped that nugget into my mind, I pulled into the drive-through and ordered my hamburger with tomato and lettuce and mayonnaise and yeah, sure, slap on a side of pork bacon. Since I was opting for future heart disease, I decided to ask for a Diet Coke too. Because while the aspartame made me feel healthier, I ignored it would contribute to a higher probability of brain cancer. Scientific? Who knew. But wasn’t most of life based on theories?
I slouched in my car waiting for my burger and gave a short laugh.It was sad that so much of life was figured out by wrestling with theories and ideas. I guess that’s why some people felt that life would be better if it came with a manual. A step-by-step approach.
It’d be nice here too. A step-by-step process to solving Sophia’s murder and locating the missing women. Not to mention untangling my own blurry past.
I was bound to Sophia now, whether I liked it or not. I just was. And that?—
I froze.
Bound.
Blest be the tie that binds.
“What are you trying to tell me?” I asked the non-existent Sophia. “You want me to see what ties you to the missing women?” It’d seemed natural to try to tie her to the killer, but to the other women? I hadn’t considered that before. It was a logical step in the process to figuring out Sophia’s murder. And while coming up with that step didn’t make me a shining light of brilliance by any means, I couldn’t help but think I’d see it differently than Reuben or Dickson. They were looking at the potential commonalities between the victims from an outside viewpoint. But me? I was an insider. I had been there. I had clutched the cold fingers of the unnamed woman before she was torn from my grasp. I knew that we were tied by circumstance and emotion and?—
I couldn’t go there. Not too deep. It’d cripple me and then I’d be worthless to Sophia.
“Here’s your burger.” The attendant materialized at my window shoving a paper bag of food in my face.
I realized a blood-curdling scream in the teenager’s face and my Diet Coke went flying out of his hand into the air. I spent the next few minutes feeling like an idiot, not to mention thirsty. I guess that was one lesson, if nothing else came from this: when approaching a customer’s car, make your presence knownbeforeyou shove your hand through their window. It might spare your ear drums.
Reuben’s hair was ruffled,and for a brief and unexpected moment, I realized I liked that look on him. Tonight, he sported a T-shirt with a can of beer and “I love you beer-y much” scripted above it.
That stole the words from me completely as I stood on the doorstep to his house with my fast food in my hand.
“You brought me supper?” he asked, breaking the awkward silence.
“No.” I hugged the bag to my chest. “This is mine. What’s with your T-shirts?”
“My what?” He glanced at his shirt and back at me. Even confusion made him look cute tonight.
Something was wrong with me.
