Page 44 of Dark Roads
She lifted her purse higher on her shoulder, the weight comforting as it settled against her side. The handgun had been expensive—same with the instructor at the gun range—and it was highly illegal for her to carry it concealed. She considered both facts inconsequential.
She studied the men around her. They looked normal, but that didn’t mean anything. Killers passed underneath the radar all the time. Take Ted Bundy, for example. Still, she made note of their faces.
A woman in a red dress gathered the crowd. She explained that they were to walk through town toward the highway and stop at the billboard, where they would place flowers and candles. Beth was relieved that the walk didn’t go farther. She didn’t want to see the ditch where her sister’s body had been found. She’d seen the cross online. Someone had taken a photo, and that image, the shock of pure white against the dark woods, had sent her spiraling for days.
The woman was now reciting a poem, or maybe it was a prayer. Beth couldn’t focus on the words. She bowed her head. She felt someone watching and turned to look. Police uniform. Older man, big, with pale hair and eyes. The pretty black-haired woman next to him kept pressing a handkerchief to her eyes.
Amber’s voice whispered to her.His name’s Vaughn and he’s such a jerk. Everyone is scared of him. He looks like the villain in a spy movie. Swear to God!
Beth let her gaze skip past him, then bowed her head again. She was sure he recognized her. Their family photos had been everywhere online.
The woman at the front was talking about community spirit, how they had to watch out for each other, then she said, “Sergeant Vaughn has a few things to add.”
The big cop moved up to the front and began to speak in an authoritative voice. “I know you’re scared, and you’re frustrated. We’re going to increase our patrols on the highway and around the lake, but we need your help. We need you to stay vigilant. Don’t travel alone if you can avoid it. Make sure your vehicles are roadworthy. Do not hitchhike. Do not pick up hitchhikers.” He paused and looked around. “If you see anything strange,report it. You all know Hailey, my niece, is still missing, and I don’t want any other family to go through this pain.”
Beth startled. The anger that she’d been choking back for nearly a year surged forward. If he didn’t want anyone else to feel that pain, then he should have found the killerbeforeAmber became the next victim. He should have been patrollingthen. He should have stopped itthen.
She spun around and moved back through the gathering, not caring as she banged into people, who shifted away with murmurs of complaint. Her car was blocked by the crowd. She cursed, then looked around. She’d get a cup of coffee and wait. The closest thing she could see was a diner. MASON’SDINER, the sign said. It had to be where Amber had worked. She hesitated.
Behind her the crowd began to sing “Amazing Grace.”
Fine. The diner couldn’t be more painful than that, could it? The door gave a friendly jingle as she pushed it open. The diner was cleaner than she had expected and smelled like fresh-baked biscuits. Comfort food. Her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten.
There were a few tables available, but she decided to sit on one of the red-vinyl-covered stools at the counter. The waitress, a middle-aged woman with graying brown hair and a no-nonsense voice, said, “You need a menu, hon?” and placed a glass of water in front of her.
“Yes, please.”
Beth drank down the cold water, then struggled to focus on the menu. Amber had worked in this diner. She’d stood behind this counter and pressed keys on that cash register. The day she died, she’d walked out, had driven to the lake, and never came back.
When the waitress arrived to take her order, Beth impulsively ordered a burger, fries, and a milkshake. Amber’s favorite meal—she was a hippie, but definitely not vegan. It arrivedfast, looked good, and tasted even better. Beth shoved fries into her mouth, in between gulps of her milkshake and bites of her burger, trying to remember the last time she’d enjoyed food.
“You look like you’re on a mission.” She lifted her head. A bearded man was behind the counter, a cloth slung over his shoulder, his arms crossed. He was burly but not in an intimidating way. Solid. He had to be Mason.
Beth stared at him silently. His eyebrows lifted.
“Are you okay?”
“My sister.” She swallowed. “Amber worked here.”
“Ah.” He leaned against the counter, gave her a level look. “You came for the memorial.”
“Yeah.” She liked that he hadn’t said he was sorry, or any of the normal expressions of sympathy. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to hate them.
“So why aren’t you out there?”
She shrugged. “Didn’t feel like I belonged.” It was probably an odd thing to say. Who would belong more than a sister of one of the victims? But he nodded as though it made sense.
“How long you in town?”
“Just the day, I guess.”
“Playing things by ear?”
“I’m in transition at the moment. I’m broke, homeless.” She tried for a wry smile, but she was surprised that she had told him so much without feeling embarrassed. Then again, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would have been impressed by a future lawyer anyway.
“You looking for a job?”
“How do you mean?”
