Shallow River

A tear drop lands on my hand as the last of River’s body disappears through the door. She’s gone. And I feel nothing but anger and desolation.

Amelia sniffles, another tear dripping from her face and onto my hand. I don’t move my hand away, nor do I try to comfort her. Instead, I let the tears of River’s best friend soak into me, propelling my anger. River has at least two people in her life that would die a little inside if she died. Part of mine and Amelia’s soul would be lowered into the ground right alongside River’s body.

“Do you have any idea where he could’ve taken her?” I ask lowly, my voice hoarse with emotion.

She sniffles again, wiping her nose. “I have no idea. From what I know, Billy didn’t tell River much about his drug operations, and even if he did, she wouldn’t have told me anything. If Billy would’ve found out I knew anything, he would’ve killed me.”

I nod my head, already coming to the same conclusion. I lose myself in thought, staring at the feed once more, trying to find anything to go off of. Anything.

“Do you love her?” Amelia’s soft question cuts through my concentration like a hot knife. Her question stings. Because I do love her. And I treated her badly, and now she’s gone. Fuck. I’m still pissed at her for keeping the Ghost Killer’s identity from me. But how can I blame her for being scared when I’m watching her abduction right in front of my fucking face?

“I do,” I answer.

She nods her head, as if I confirmed something she already knew. “She loves you, too. I think she fell in love with you on that dance floor.”

My head whips to her, surprised. She’s staring forlornly at the screen. “She told you it was me?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I recognized you. Even in my drunk-addled brain that night, I remember watching you two dance. I remember watching the way you looked down at her. And I recognized that look because I see it every day when my husband looks at me. I’ve seen River dance with many men up until that point, but never did I see her enjoy it the way she did with you. I watched two souls connect and even though I was incredibly sick at that point, I felt so much guilt for pulling her away. Because I know something special would’ve happened that night, and it’s my fault it didn’t. And because of that, she ran into Ryan’s arms. Sometimes I feel guilt for that, too. If I would’ve just taken care of myself, she never would’ve dated that monster.”

Another tear slips from her eyes. This time, I do wipe it away. “It’s not your fault, Amelia. There’s a lot of things I’d do differently that night. The first one would be getting her phone number.”

A sad smile stretches across her face. “She didn’t say much about you. I asked her once, and the look on her face said it all. She was plagued by you. She admitted she refused to look at your face. And when I asked why, she said she didn’t want your face to haunt her every night, just as your hands do. She shut down after that and I didn’t push.”

She pauses and it seems like she’s struggling with something she wants to say. “She told me what happened between you two. I get why you’re mad. I really do. But this right here, is why she didn’t tell you. I hope you can forgive her.”

“I already have,” I whisper.

Too many emotions well inside of me. I turn my face back to the screen and watch once more as the love of my life is taken away. From me. From Amelia. From her life.

“I think we need to go pay her mother a visit.”

Twenty Six

River

THE INCESSANT POUNDING IN my skull is what pulls me out of the abysmal darkness I’ve lost myself in. It was comfortable there. I felt nothing. Physically, or emotionally. And now I feel everything. Sharp pinpricks of pain explode across my head and if it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve woken up this way quite a few times in my life and have solid survival instincts, I’d groan aloud in pain.

Instead, I keep my face blank despite the pain and let my surroundings filter in. It’s completely silent. No shuffle of feet or rustling of clothing. No breathing.

When I feel confident I’m alone, I peek open my eyes slowly. This time, I do let out a little groan when the pain intensifies.

I stare at the cement ceiling above me, not bother

ing to look around until my memory catches up. Everything starts coming back to me in quick, blurred images. I was home alone. Amelia had been gone for a few hours when Billy had come for me. We had fought—or at least I had—until he dragged me out of the house, to his car and threw me in the trunk. The last thing I remember is Billy’s fist coming towards my face before I blacked out.

Shit. Not good. I’ve no idea where he possibly could’ve taken me. And if I don’t know, no one else will either.

The cold realization that I’m well and truly alone settles in. I’ve always been fucking alone. No one has ever saved me before.

And no one sure as fuck isn’t going to save me now.

Mako wouldn’t know the first place to look for me. And even if Barbie did, she wouldn’t care enough about me to risk her life and tell anyone. Not when it comes to Billy.

Now I take the time to look around. I’m in a basement. Old and decrepit, with spiderwebs strung across every nook and cranny, accompanied by that old, musky smell. This basement has definitely seen a flood or ten in its years. Exposed wooden beams break up the open concept of the basement with an exposed light bulb in the center of the room, shining bright and burring dimly. And of course, there’s only one escape route—the rickety steps leading to a padlocked door.

Aside from myself and my demons, a single wooden chair and the thin cotton mattress I’m lying on, there’s nothing else down here.

Not even cameras, which surprise me. Billy’s pretty old school but not enough to not keep up with the times. He’s big on surveillance. His paranoia would never allow him not to keep an eye on all his operations at all times. Maybe there’s one of his goonies standing outside the door upstairs. If there’s any left.