Page 42 of Dark Roads
Thompson leaned on the porch railing. Beth looked away. She had a hard time meeting his eyes. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he knew. He had probably seen her sister’s body. There would be photos. The very thought of them had Beth waking from nightmares, sweaty and tangled in sheets, her heartbeat frantic. She’d started sleeping at her parents’ house.
“When does it stop?” She jerked her chin toward the press.
“Hard to say. There’s a lot of interest.”
“I’ve read about the other cases. There’s a website.” Amber was one of the Cold Creek Highway victims now. Famous. Beth never understood grief before. It was a concept, something she read about. Like motherhood. Now it hollowed her, stole the breath from her chest. Her sister hadsuffered. She could imagine how hard Amber must have fought, how she would’ve screamed and begged. Beth’s mind was a haunted house that she could never leave.
“Those sites are full of conspiracy theorists and armchair detectives. They take advantage of vulnerable people. I’d suggest you avoid reading them if you can.”
“I just want answers.” Sheneededthem.
“We’re working hard to get them. I promise. We have newtechnology, more CCTV cameras. Don’t give up hope. Some of the other families have found solace in support groups.”
“My parents have the church.”
“What about you?”
“It still doesn’t feel real.” She hadn’t meant to tell him that. What had she been thinking? That he might turn to her and say,Well, actually, it’s not real. It’s a terrible mistake. So sorry.He shifted his weight, adjusted the line of his blazer. The movement pulled her gaze up to his face. Brown eyes. Filled with sympathy. Too much. It hurt to see that reflected back at her.
“I should help my mom.” She stood and brushed bread crumbs off her skirt. “Thank you for coming. I’m sure it meant a lot to my parents.” She smiled stiffly and hurried back inside.
The kitchen was spotless. The women from the church had cleaned and put everything away, stocked their fridge with leftovers. Beth sat with her parents in the living room while they drank tea. The TV was off. Her father hadn’t watched the news since it had happened, but Beth would sneak peeks after they’d gone to bed, scared of what she might see, but desperate to find out if anyone had come forward. Any tidbit. She’d deleted Twitter and Facebook from her phone.
Her mom was staring into space. Her hair looked damp around her forehead, the soft bob messy, and her cheeks were flushed from heat or emotion. She kept glancing into the kitchen as though searching for more tasks. Her mom now existed between the bedroom and the kitchen.
“Why did you invite that police officer?”
Her mother slowly turned, blinked, licked her dry lips. Beth wondered at first if it was all in her imagination, the feeling that her mother was moving through thick water, and put itdown to shock and grief, but then she’d found the pills in her mother’s bathroom.
“We…” Her mother searched for words. “We wanted him to feel a connection with Amber.”
Would that matter? Beth wasn’t sure, but she liked the idea. Thompson working a little harder, following down every last lead, while he thought about her family waiting for closure.
Her father glanced out the window. “Are the reporters still out there?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll walk you to your car in the morning. If they get too aggressive, we can call the police. Just remember not to say anything. Don’t react.” Her dad’s brows were pulled together. This was who they were now. People who tried to find ways to hide from the world.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to work.”
Both her parents were looking at her. Who would speak first?
“You can’t miss any more days.” Her mother. Beth wasn’t surprised. Her mom loved telling neighbors and church members about her daughter the future lawyer. Beth didn’t want to think about the small hidden part of her that felt relieved about putting it all to the side.
“Maybe another week.”
“You don’t want to take advantage.”
“It’s not like I’m pocketing extra sugar packets. There’s only a couple of weeks left before school starts anyway. But I might defer this semester.”
“Oh, that’s not a good idea, tiger. Don’t do that.” Her father, a lurch in his voice, as though suddenly panicked that she was about to jump out of a window.
“I’ll go back in January.” Beth couldn’t believe they were finding this so shocking. How could they expect her to just carry on? Anything more than being in this room felt impossible. Gettinggroceries, mail, answering messages. Those tasks belonged in her past life.
“You can’t let evil win.” Her mother this time, the words a whisper, but loud enough just the same. If Beth didn’t follow through, she was letting everyone down. Including God.
“You have to stay busy,” her father added. “In times of tragedy, we must focus on the good. Find meaning in volunteer work. The church could always use you.”
