Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

Gulf Shores, Alabama

Wednesday, September 18

11:03 a.m.

She'd charted his routines.

When he left for work. When he returned home. His favorite beer. His preferred shows in the glow of the television at night. She catalogued the model of his phone—the same shape as hers—and the color of the case. Black silicone. She learned Samuel Thornton worked local construction from a piece of mail from his insurance company by day and blared country music as he pulled into the driveway of the beach house the same time every evening.

It was easy to figure out the ins and outs of a person's life given enough time and dedication.

She didn't quite understand how a blue-collar worker could afford the multi-million-dollar home, but she didn't have to have a complete financial audit to understand the kind of man Samuel Thornton was. She just had to be patient.

Elyse rubbed the plastic baggie protecting the hair she'd collected from one of the beds in the beach house between both fingers. Long and dark. Not unlike Ruby Davis's. She'd been sitting here for over an hour, wondering who she would even take it to to have it tested. And what was she supposed to compare it against? She wasn't privy to forensic evidence. She didn't know Ruby's family or have a relationship enough to collect a sample from a hairbrush or toothbrush. Did Gulf Shores PD have Ruby's DNA? Would Detective Moore believe her if she admitted her suspicions? The former felt like a given in a missing persons investigation. The latter was what kept her from calling the detective again.

She added the baggie to the collection of photos she'd taken from Samuel Thornton's home in her nightstand and closed it. Just as Wesley came into the room. "I wasn't sure you were coming home," she said.

There was a haggardness to his appearance. Disheveled and so very not like her husband. There were men who took care of themselves physically, then there was Wesley. Who invested in the best hair products, who had a more complicated skin care routine than she did. Who searched for boutique quality that would last years rather than fast fashion. This man standing in the doorframe wasn't the man she'd married, and for a moment, her nerves got the best of her. "I could say the same about you."

She hated this. This… distance between them. They'd always been on the same page when it came to the priorities in their lives. Family first, Ava's education, quality time, and equal housework. They'd matured together and grown apart sometimes but had always come back together. Elyse shoved to a stand, closing the distance between them. "I'm sorry about what I said the other night. About how you never prioritize me. I know how hard you work to support our family, and even if I don't see it, I know you would do anything to make sure we're taken care of."

He didn't seem to have an answer for that, and a hit of warning pooled at the base of her spine. "Those phone calls… They're not what you think. Not entirely."

Not entirely. Which meant there had been another affair. Despite her best efforts, tears burned in her eyes, but Elyse swallowed them back. She'd been through this once and made a complete fool of herself. Sobbing, yelling, arguments—all of it weak in her then condition after chemo treatments. None of it had made a damn bit of difference then, and it wouldn't now. And she wouldn't give him the satisfaction this time. Elyse took a step back. Enough to help her keep her composure. Her arms folded across her chest, aggravating the soreness in her shoulder. "Who is she?"

"Does it matter?" His eyes glistened with moisture. It took a lot for him to let his feelings show. Data analysis was impartial, and he had to be too, but there was no stopping the destruction now. "It's over now. She's out of my life. I want you, Elyse. You're my wife. I want… us."

"Us. That's funny. Because you keep choosing other women, Wesley." Gravity intensified its hold on her insides, pulling blood from her face and neck into her legs. His absence over the past day and a half testified one key detail: This woman, whoever she was, had been local. Was it really that easy for him? To be in a place for less than a week and find someone willing to look past his wedding ring? "You keep choosing to hurt us. Me. Ava."

"I'm sorry." He took that step forward, but Elyse couldn't stand the thought of him getting any closer. She retreated, halting him in his place. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen?—"

"Don't tell me you're sorry. It doesn't mean anything," she said. "It hasn't since you slept with that woman from your office while I was going through cancer treatments, while I was grieving the loss of our daughter. Your sorry has been worthless for years, and I'm tired of hearing it. I'm just… tired. Of the secrets and the excuses and wondering if you'll ever keep your promises."

The past three days compounded in an instant, nearly taking her legs out from under her. "And I'm done with all of it, Wesley."

"What does that mean?" The question quavered, as though he'd been afraid to even ask. His confidence, charm, and support slipped.

The answer had been sitting between them for the past four years. All this time, and she'd denied its very existence. Denied the trust issues she'd developed since discovering the truth, denied second-guessing every word out of his mouth, denied her overcompensation in trying to keep him physically interested. She'd convinced herself it would all go away with time, but he hadn't given her the chance. "I'm done. I want you out. I don't care where you go. I'm filing for divorce, and in case you're wondering, I'm going to take you for everything you have. Including our daughter."

She didn't wait for an answer. Elyse charged past him into the hallway and retreated into his office. The door slammed closed behind her, and she couldn't help but collapse against it. Sliding to the floor, she let the burst of betrayal and anger and disbelief consume her in a muted scream. Heavy footsteps paused on the other side of the door, and she prayed to every deity she knew of he wouldn't knock. That he wouldn't try to get her to face him as this raw, exposed thing he'd created. She sat there for what felt like hours but must've only been minutes before getting to her feet and regaining some semblance of control.

The laptop sat open where she'd abandoned it this morning. Rounding the desk, she realized more than an hour had passed. Ava would be asking about lunch soon. What was Elyse supposed to tell her when she asked why they weren't waiting for Wesley to join them? Was she supposed to lie? How much truth was a fourteen-year-old supposed to handle in the span of mere days?

She sank into the office chair, wanting more than anything to forget everything outside of this room, but she couldn't. She couldn't do that to her daughter. She couldn't stop now. Elyse ran her middle finger over the laptop's track pad to wake it up and scrolled to the message app. Without her phone, she hadn't been able to keep in touch through usual means. She'd had to resort to using Wesley's account.

Where are you?—Mom

The bubble rose midway up the screen, attaching to hers and Ava's previous conversation.

Three bubbles lit up sequentially. Then:

Eating at Saige's. Be back around 9.

A grating sense of loneliness combined with relief and flooded through her veins. She was on her own for the day, but her response was a simple thumbs-up emoji. Elyse stared at the screen. Not really sure what she was supposed to do now.

A minute later, she automatically found herself scrolling through Ruby Davis's Instagram profile. Hundreds of photos of a smiling young woman with friends on sunny beaches, showing off a white piece of paper beside a sedan—presumably her learner's permit—posing in a mirror with a peace sign and her tongue sticking out nearly to the tip of her chin. Elyse made notes of the people tagged in the description of each photo. Deciphering their handles would take a bit more work. Some male, mostly female. A football player, one of the dancers from the drill team. Ruby was popular. That much was clear. Elyse lost herself in years of photos, going all the way back to middle school. Most likely when Ruby had first been allowed to have a phone.

Recognition flared at the sight of a blonde woman smiling alongside Ruby, her mouth planted against the girl's cheek in a forced platonic kiss. Their features were so striking, Elyse wasn't sure why she hadn't connected the dots before now. Same smile, slightly different. Same color hair. Even their noses were shaped similarly. Detective Henrietta Moore had slung a tight hold around Ruby's neck and dragged her in close, but it was the caption that drew Elyse's attention. Here's to ten more years with Aunt Etta. Rest in peace, Mom and Dad.

The photo had garnered well over two hundred likes from three hundred of Ruby's followers. Elyse's heart skipped a beat. Detective Moore was related to a missing fifteen-year-old girl. She backed away from the laptop and paced the small space surrounding Wesley's oversized desk. This could change everything. This could get Detective Moore to listen to her. To believe her.

Except she'd just threatened Wesley with divorce. And bringing the evidence to Detective Moore would expose Elyse's crime of breaking and entering into Samuel Thornton's house. She'd be arrested, and Ava would be relegated to living with a father who'd keep choosing unstable, secret relationships over her. She had to find another way.

Elyse skidded back into the office chair, continuing her scrolling. After more than thirty minutes, every photo began to resemble the one that came before it. A smiling Ruby posing with duck face, friends, and coffees. At school, in parking lots, on the beach, poolside. She wrote down every handle tagged in the photos and lost several hours trying to keep track of them all, but exhaustion was winning out. She'd scratched over a dozen on the pad beside the laptop already, all of which would require her to search. But she wouldn't give up. There was something she wasn't seeing. She was sure of it. Some clue that would tell her how a man like Samuel Thornton would come into contact with the fifteen-year-old niece of a police detective.

And she saw it.

In one of the earlier photos.

A single picture that Elyse couldn't seem to tear herself away from. Of Ruby and another girl. A girl wearing a necklace with a gold-plated disk engraved with the letter P . She could see it as clear as day. Right there in the palm of her hand as she'd picked it from the mess of Samuel Thornton's toiletry bag.

Elyse knocked her pen off the desk in a rush to click on the caption and take down the tagged handle. @Poppyseeds. Another profile filled the screen with a single click. The last post had been dated more than a year prior. Of Ruby and the girl with the necklace. She wrote down the name posted at the top with three underlines. "Who are you, Poppy Slater?"

The answer came all too easily with a Google search in a new tab.

Missing Gulf Shores teenager found strangled in marsh.

Parents of missing teen offer reward for information.

Then further back. Gulf Shores teen suspected of running away with boyfriend .

"But you didn't run away, did you?" Her throat threatened to close as Elyse enlarged a grainy photo of Poppy Slater posted to the news site. Smiling, without a care in the world or an idea of what would happen next.

The realization hurt more than it should have.

Ruby Davis hadn't been the only girl taken.