Page 75 of Fatal Fame
Mia started to respond, then realized she couldn't remember a recent conversation that wasn't rushed or distracted. "Well, I mean..."
"That's right. Most of the time you have your head buried in books or you're out with friends. I don't have friends. Since Mom's death, things have just gotten worse and worse. I've tried to put on a brave front for Dad, but..."
"No, Ethan, you've been..."
"Been what?"
"Fine. Good. Is that what you were about to say?"
Instead of answering, Ethan rolled up his sleeve, revealing a pattern of old cuts on his forearm, some healed, some more recent.
"What the hell? You've been cutting yourself again?"
"Again? I never stopped."
Mia sat up in bed despite the pain in her arm. "Ethan, you need to talk to someone about this. To Dad. To a therapist."
"A therapist? You really think talking about it is going to help? Has therapy helped Dad? He acts like Mom's death doesn't affect him, but I've seen those bottles of alcohol accumulating. All those extra hours he logs at work. We spend more time at Gretchen's or Ed's than we do at home with him."
"He's only one person, Ethan. He has to work to support us."
"Every hour of the day? I needed him and he wasn't there."
"He's done the best he could under the circumstances."
"Did you learn that from one of your psychology textbooks, or is that your way of handling the pain?"
Mia sighed, recognizing the truth in his criticism.
"Ethan, why go to all this trouble? The fake Facebook account, the tracker?"
"I just told you. Hell, you should be thanking me. If I hadn't been tracking you, you'd still be in that well with Gideon. He would be dead, and you might have died too. All that investigative work, and where did it get you? Almost buried alive. You still want to go into law enforcement after this?"
Ethan moved to the window and stared out at the parking lot. Mia got out of bed and placed her uninjured hand on his shoulder.
"Dad acts like he's not like grandfather, but he is. He's exactly like him, and so will you be if you go down that path. I just wanted to..."
"Convince me to not go into law enforcement?”
He nodded. "Didn't you notice my suggestions about working for the newspaper instead?"
"Mom investigated stories and died.”
"But at least the chances of dying are smaller in journalism."
"In High Peaks, the chances of dying seem pretty high no matter what you do." Mia shook her head. "Ethan, I know you care, and I know you meant well. I'm not angry, justdisappointed. But you can't be doing things like this. Your fears are starting to mirror Dad's."
As Mia turned to hug her brother, she glanced out the window and saw Sergeant Emerson in the parking lot, walking toward her vehicle. As Mia watched, Anita climbed into a white Jeep.
"Ethan, when you showed up at the farm to find us, did you pass anyone on the way in?"
"Yeah, a white Jeep. It was speeding away from the farm. I figured it was the property owner or someone who'd gotten lost and was turning around."
Mia looked down at the parking lot where Anita was starting her engine.
A realization struck her. Had Anita Emerson been at Hemlock Hollow Farm? Had Anita made Gideon release the rope while Mia was climbing out of the well? Had Anita struck Gideon and thrown his unconscious body into the well? Had Anita placed the wooden cover back over the opening, trapping them both to die in the darkness?
Her thoughts circled back to Anita’s conversation.
