Page 42 of One Little Lie
Why didn’t she take her phone?
“Fuck!”
We’re here, searching for a girl whose father was mixed up with the mob Loki and Ashton spent years taking down. What are the chances we’re in danger? Why didn’t that ever cross my mind?
Because it didn’t matter when it was just you!
I can’t panic. She always enjoyed being outside, and I was gone longer than expected.She’s just out exploring. She’s fine, I tell myself repeatedly until I almost believe it.
Pep talk complete, I drop the sandwiches and her iced coffee into the cooler and get to work unpacking some of the shit my brothers sent with us. I’ll avoid setting up the beds, because there aren’t any and because I want Rylan to choose how we situate ourselves for the night.
It takes about an hour to unload most of the bags and set up camp, but it feels much longer because I’m compulsively checking my watch.
Where the hell are you, Rylan?
When thirty more minutes pass, and I can’t sit still any longer, I grab my satchel and rip out a piece of paper.
Rylan, I’ve gone out searching for you. If you return before I do, please call my cell.
Hal
Hatty
I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong, but I do my best to tamp it down. Colton is the drama queen of the family, not me. Ash wouldn’t have sent us here unprepared if he thought we were in danger. He’s too thorough.
Calm the fuck down, Hatty.
Rylan’s voice echoes in my head and settles a little of the chaos, at least slightly, but staring up at the sky, I know a storm is rolling in, so I pick up my pace. Hopefully, she’ll show up, or I’ll find her on the beach somewhere before the rain starts.
I’m almost at the golf cart when I remember Rylan had grabbed a bunch of flyers on the ferry. Jogging back to where she’d dropped her bag, I hesitate for half a second.Is it wrong to go through her stuff?If it is, I’ll deal with that later.
Sifting through her things, I find the brochures tucked into a book I remember. It’s our scrapbook. I freeze. If I open the cover, I know I’ll see her photos on one page, with my drawing of the same thing on the other. We did this for years, and she kept them all safe.
She still carries this with her?
Tears prick my eyes, and my breaths are too shallow. Closing my eyes, I shake my head, trying to rid the feelings fighting their way to the surface. I can’t allow them space in my head or my heart. Feelings like this are dangerous. But my hands move on their own, causing my eyes to fly open as memories crash into me like a brick wall.
“Give me a word, Hatty?”
“Languor.”
I flip the page because I can’t stop myself.
“Give me a word, Hatty?”
“Sprightly.”
And another.
“Give me a word, Hatty?”
“Ethereal.”
I grab the stack of papers she stuck inside and slam it shut between my open palms. The snap it makes sounds eerie in the silence. Using the sleeve of my T-shirt, I wipe the sweat from my brow. I think of nothing but breathing in and out. In and out until I’m calm enough to search for the information I need.
Locating the Old Harbor Walking Tour map, I stick it into my pocket and move to the golf cart on autopilot.
She carries our love with her.
