Chapter 1
Present Day
Confusion mixes with an inordinate amount of fear as I walk toward the front of my nana’s store. The door looks like it has been kicked in, barely hanging on by the bottom hinge. The glass pane that displayed her store name and logo is shattered in a million pieces on the floor. The large picture window from the front of the store is smashed, mixed with the debris scattered throughout the front room. The usually safe and quiet streets of Aspen Springs, Montana, that I’ve known my whole life, and have walked without adult supervision for almost as long, suddenly feel very dangerous.
“Nana?” I call out into the dark room and pull my phone from my back pocket.
With no regard for my own safety, I rush inside, using the flashlight on my phone to peer into the store. The crunch of glass and mixed debris under my feet as I move room to room makes me sick. I search for her everywhere—behind the cash register, in the bathroom, the kitchen, and finally, the storeroom. But she’s not here, and I instantly feel lost and alone.
This store has been her pride and joy my whole life. If she were aware of the break-in, she’d already be here, cleaning up before the police arrived to do their job.
Unless she was inside the store when the door was knocked in and the front window was shattered…
That thought sends chills down my spine, and I quickly call for help. When the dispatcher answers, I rattle off the address and ask her to tell the deputies to hurry. Not that it’ll take the police long to get here in this small town, but hearing the dispatcher reassure me they are already on their way makes me feel so much better. When she begins to tell me to stay on the line until the police arrive, I hang up and call home instead. I have to reach Nana and make sure she’s okay, then break the bad news to her.
The phone at home rings endlessly. We live on the edge of the forest, several miles outside of town, so we’re one of the few places left in the world where landlines are a necessity in this modern age. Nana refused to get an answering machine or, God forbid, a digital answering service. With no way for me to leave a message telling her to call me as soon as she can, the level of anxiety building inside my chest feels as if it’ll explode, leaving no trace of me behind.
She knew I was going out with my friends tonight, so she wouldn’t have been far from the phone. Every troubling piece of this situation is so out of character for her. I can feel something is terribly wrong, like a sixth sense warning me of impending danger, breathing down my neck.
“Calm down, Sara. She could just be on her way home. They waited for her to leave the shop before breaking in.” I try to talk some sense into myself—aloud because I’m still alone—but it’s not helping at all. In fact, it sounds a lot like I’m lying to myself.
The wail of the police sirens grows closer, and a voice inside my head tells me they won’t find her. I shake my head harshly as if that will dislodge the depressing whispers. When I turn toward the oncoming cars, I notice one is a regular patrol vehicle and the other is an unmarked car. They stop with their headlights shining into the front of the building before getting out and walking to me.
“Detective Ryan Miller. And you are?” He extends his hand to me, and I shake it absently.
“Sara Nemertes.”
“Is this your family’s business?” He pulls a small notebook and pen from the breast pocket of his jacket and starts taking notes.
“It’s my grandmother’s store. Her name is Sue Nemertes. She’s usually still here at this hour, especially when she knows I’m going to the movies with my friends. But I just walked up and found it like this. I called our home phone, but she didn’t answer. I need to try again.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I look up at him and see an empathetic expression in his eyes. He’s thinking the same thing I did earlier. If she’s not here and she’s not at home, the alternatives are not good. He doesn’t have to voice his thoughts for me to hear and feel them. It’s something I’ve dealt with my entire life.
Nana always told me I was just more intuitive than others, that’s why I could sense what everyone else was thinking before they spoke. I learned to filter through all the extraneous noise at an early age and focus on what was important. Detective Miller’s thoughts flow freely to my mind because I’m so focused on him and he’s standing so close to me.
“Have you been inside yet?” He quickly changes gears, getting back to business and refocusing his attention on his job.
“Yes. I know that’s against the ‘preserve the crime scene’ rules, but I had to know if she was inside and unable to answer me because she was hurt. I tried to touch as little as possible, but I couldn’t stand here and not look for her.”
“Sounds like you know a bit about police procedure.”
“I’ve watched way too many crime movies and episodes of CSI.” I shrug one shoulder, knowing watching a few fictional shows doesn’t make me an expert in anything.
“Wait here while we have a look around.”
Another call home is fruitless. No answer, only endless ringing on the other end. She’s not there and she’s not here.
After the detective finishes asking his final questions and assuring me he’ll be in touch if anything turns up, I watch him get into his car and drive away, all while my feet remain glued to the floor. He offered me a ride to a friend’s or family’s house, but I lied and said I already had someone coming to get me. The last thing I need is to be away from home right now.
Nothing feels real when I turn my head and look around the store Nana loved so much. The once perfectly arranged displays of soils, herbs, and seasonal plants are now strewn across the floor in pieces. The shelves lie flat against the floor, leaving the stacks of paperback books and boxes of plant food bent and mangled.
The deputy is still here, boarding up the smashed window. Then he fixes the broken door as much as possible before he leaves. With a hammer and a few nails, he boards up the door enough to prevent anyone else from getting inside. He also offers me a ride home before exiting out the back, but I decline, choosing to wait for my best friend Kristi to pick me up instead.
Detective Miller said there was definitely a struggle, but he didn’t find any sign of injury in the debris. No blood. No hair. No pieces of torn clothing. Nana couldn’t have just disappeared, though. She wouldn’t have left the shop in this state. The only explanation that makes any sense is someone took her against her will. A botched robbery, maybe? A store invasion that went wrong, possibly? So many scenarios fly through my mind, each worse than the last. Each with a more disturbing ending.
“What if they come back?” I ask myself aloud. The words tumble out of my mouth before my brain even has a chance to consider them.
In an instant, I’m across the room and standing in front of the back door with my hand on the top deadbolt lock. Everything is such a blur that I don’t even remember crossing the room. With a flick of my wrist, I secure the door, my heart beating so hard it makes my shirt jump. Next, I rush to the remaining storefront windows and pull down the shades, hiding inside.
Now, I’m alone. All alone. Just me, in the middle of the broken pieces of Nana’s livelihood.
And just like that, I can’t breathe. All I can hear over the sound of my pounding heart is the blood rushing through my veins, swishing in my ears as violently as the Class III rapids on the Yellowstone River.