Beneath Blackwater River Leslie Wolfe (me reader txt) 📖

“Martha,” Kay said, steepling her hands in a pleading gesture, “if you were to venture a guess as to what happened that day with Shelley, what would you say that was?”

Martha looked at Kay for a long, loaded moment. When she spoke, her voice was filled with sorrow. “I’m sure it was something terrible. The poor child never spoke a word of it, and whenever I asked, she’d turn pale and tearful. After a while, I stopped asking, and so did Shelley, but…” Her voice trailed off, as if she was still deciding whether to share her thoughts with Kay.

“Please go on,” Kay insisted, “you’re the only one left who could share details about that day.”

Martha sighed, seemingly still undecided. Then, shaking her head a little, she lowered her voice as if afraid someone would overhear her words. “I’d say that someone raped Shelley that day, and that Rose was the child of that rape.” She covered her mouth with trembling, knotted fingers. In the car’s beams, her eyes glistened.

Reaching inside her jacket pocket, Kay felt the evidence pouch that held Shelley’s DNA. Before the light of dawn tomorrow, she’d know.

She’d know if the girl in the morgue was Alyssa or Rose.

If that girl was Rose after all, then she’d been the child of Bill Caldwell, possibly a rape child that he later kidnapped and replaced his own daughter with.

But why?

“Martha, one more question if I may, then I’ll drive you home,” she said, feeling guilty to keep the old woman in the cold like that.

“Nonsense, dearie, I live right over there,” she said, pointing to the left of the property. “Tell me, what do you need to know?”

“What do you remember about Alyssa Caldwell, Bill’s daughter?”

“Not that much, really,” Martha replied, scratching her forehead. “Shelley had stopped working for the Caldwells right after Rose vanished; it’s understandable, poor lamb. But before that, I remember she was saying that tragedy had struck that family. Evangeline was very sick, that’s Bill Caldwell’s wife. I think she has MS or something, I’m not sure. And then their little girl had fallen ill, seriously ill, you know, like they were afraid for her life.”

Huh, Kay thought, her prickling instinct telling her she was headed in the right direction. Coincidence, you do not exist. Or do you?

“What was wrong?”

Martha smiled apologetically. “I don’t remember… It’s been a while, and I’m not that young anymore.”

Kay thanked Martha, insisting on dropping her off at her house. Then, as soon as Martha waved at her from her well-lit porch and closed the door behind her, she looked at the time and saw she had less than twelve minutes to get to Katse for her meeting with Sheriff Logan.

She wasn’t going to make it on time.

She texted him a message with a quick apology and the time she expected to get there, then turned onto the highway and floored it.

Lego pieces were falling into place, and DNA would soon confirm it.

She felt it in her gut.

If she closed her eyes, she could vividly recall the photos of the two little girls, how she’d thought they look like each other, their wavy chestnut hair, their chin dimples, and she’d dismissed it, writing it off as coincidence, when she should’ve considered they could be sisters.

And if that was true, that meant one thing.

The girl resting in storage unit number six was Rose Harrelson.

37Safe

It’s been years since we had people over, Jacob thought, busying himself in the kitchen, clearing the dining table and loading the dishwasher. I’ve been living like a monk, before Sis got here, and now we’re two monks.

It would’ve been so much better if the circumstances were different, and the guest sitting at the table weren’t sitting quietly, too ashamed to look him in the eye as if she deserved what had happened to her.

He’d been more than happy to vacuum and spruce up his parents’ old room for their guest. It was about time someone scared the cobwebs away from those walls, although Kay had already done her share to refresh the place. His take was more of a symbolic one. He’d lived in an empty house for far too long, and now he just appreciated the company.

Cooking for more than one sure felt better, although he still sucked at it. Being it was so late, and that poor woman was probably hungry and tired and wanted to be alone at last, he didn’t risk it. He went for something so simple even he couldn’t screw it up. Oven roasted wedge potatoes with a cheese omelet and pickles. Kind of a bachelor dinner, but as far as bachelor dinners went, this was worthy of a Sunday evening, not a Thursday.

The tea kettle whistled, startling the woman. She looked around with the eyes of an injured doe before settling. If that no-good husband of hers were there right now, he would strangle him with his bare hands. Instead, he quickly cut the power to the kettle and the whistling subsided.

“So sorry,” he said, with a shy smile. “Kay bought this, it’s supposed to be modern, but it still whistles like the old ones we see in British movies.” He took two clean mugs from the cabinets, and filled them up with hot water, then opened the drawer where Kay held her herbal teas. “I have chamomile, peppermint, and whatever this is.” He flipped one of the teabags and read, “Infinite Serenity.” He held it up in the air as if it were a dangerous piece of hazardous material. “Might be good. Wanna try?”

She took it from his hand and tore the wrapper open, dipping the teabag into the water. “Thank you,” she whispered, shooting him the quickest of glances before she lowered her eyes again.

She wrapped her cardigan tighter around her thin figure, then put both her hands around the cup and inhaled the scented steam. It had lemon, and some herbal tinge he couldn’t place, and the kitchen air was filling