if the answer were as simple as Shayna telling her fiancé where she’d be for the next few days.
He shook his head. “I have no idea. I’ve been trying to reach her. So have her parents and her friends. She hasn’t shown up for work and her cell phone is turned off.”
At least he and Shayna’s mother were telling the same story since Shayna had disappeared. But was he the one who’d provided this set of facts?
“She’ll come back,” Zoe said, speaking with a confidence she wanted badly to feel. “She’s probably just taking a break from everything. As soon as she finds out I’m in town, she’ll make contact.”
“You think so?” His tone told her how unlikely he found that possibility. But then, he didn’t know what Shayna had said the last time she and Zoe talked.
No matter. “She has to,” she replied, hoping it would be true. The alternative was unthinkable, that Shayna Bell had truly gone missing. If that was the case, who knew what might have happened to her then.
Inwardly, Zoe winced. She could only pray that the darkness of her past, after so many years, hadn’t caught up with her best friend. Surely not. The killer was still in prison and appeared to have totally forgotten the young woman he’d threatened to kill. As far as he knew, there was no connection between Zoe and Shayna. On top of that, Shayna wouldn’t make the kind of foolish choices that would place her in harm’s way.
Silence fell again. Odd, between two people who’d never been at a loss for words. Of course, that was in the past, before Zoe had set fire to every bridge that tied her to people she’d loved in Anniversary. Now, Zoe couldn’t blame him for wanting to ignore her.
Weirdly though, with Brock she’d expected...more. Accusations, finger-pointing, something reminiscent of the passion that had once blazed between them.
Of course, five years had passed. There was no passion left. He’d gotten over her by now, just as she’d...refused to let herself even think about him. At first, doing so had hurt too badly. Later, she’d bowed to the inevitable and tried with all her iron will to move on.
As had he. When Shayna had called Zoe, her voice full of a tentative sort of joy, to ask if she minded the two of them dating, Zoe hadn’t hesitated to tell her friend not at all. Grab happiness with both hands and don’t let it go, she’d urged Shayna. After all, that was how Zoe had learned to live her life in the big city.
Life went on. Old hurts, old loves, while never completely forgotten, were buried, moved past. There was no reason at all now why she and Brock couldn’t be civil. After all, they both wanted the same thing—Shayna to be found safe.
As the silence dragged on, Zoe snuck a glance or two at Brock, reminded of his old nickname—Brock the Rock. Judging from the size of his biceps and the breadth of his chest, he hadn’t given up lifting weights. He would have been able to protect Shayna if he’d been in their home when someone came for her, but more personal thoughts tried to break Zoe’s focus on her missing friend. She’d never been able to picture Brock and Shayna together—they hadn’t even seemed to like each other back when Zoe and Brock had been an item.
“Why?” she asked, finally breaking the silence. “Why was Shayna moving out?”
“That’s kind of personal,” he replied lightly, still staring straight ahead. “And none of your business.”
That hurt more than she’d expected. Still... “Maybe it isn’t, right now,” she replied. “But if the reason has something to do with her disappearance, you’d better believe I’ll ask you again.”
“Fair enough.” This time, he swiveled his head to face her. His blue eyes flashed sparks, causing heat to flare low in her belly. This, she squashed with the ease of years of practice. She might not have been able to completely forget him, but she had managed to stop loving him a long time ago.
A few minutes later he exited the highway and the streets began to look more and more familiar, making her sit up straighter. She hadn’t been back at all since she’d fled everything and everyone as though pursued by demons.
She might as well have been. She’d changed everything about herself, from her hair color and cut to the way she dressed and spoke. She’d worked hard to lose her Texas drawl, adopting a hint of a Midwest accent, so no one would realize where she was from. These days, though, she looked much the same as she used to, albeit with a much more expensive haircut.
Originally, Zoe had planned to return. To apologize to Brock, explain what had happened, and step right back into the life she’d been destined to have. Especially since she’d learned, a few weeks after leaving, that she was pregnant.
She’d lost the baby in the first trimester. That had been bad enough, but she’d learned that the endometriosis and the horrible scarring to her fallopian tubes meant she would never be able to have children. She’d realized then, in the middle of her grief, that she could never go back to Brock or to her old life.
It had taken this, Shayna’s disappearance, to bring her back home. Back to the place she’d grown up, where most of her happy memories had been replaced with dark and bloody ones.
She shivered. Had she honestly believed she’d never have to revisit Anniversary?
And this. Confronting Brock McCauley—the man she’d left—again hadn’t figured into her plan. Of course, never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined Shayna would go missing and she’d have to return home to try to find her.
As for facing Brock—what had she thought? He’d been engaged to her best friend and Anniversary wasn’t a large town. She’d been bound to run into him eventually. The past always found a way to catch up. She only hoped the rest of it—the stuff of nightmares part—stayed away.
As they pulled up in front of the white brick ranch house where she’d been raised by a family that wasn’t her own, Zoe felt her tension ease. Staring, she inhaled. Swamped by a wave of nostalgia so strong it clogged her throat, to her surprise she found herself blinking back tears.
As if he sensed this, Brock cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”
Crap. Temporarily unable to speak, she nodded, careful to keep her face averted. Showing emotion would reveal weakness, and she couldn’t have that. Not with him. Especially not with him.
One second, then another ticked by before she got herself under control. “I’m good,” she said, her brisk, self-assured tone giving credence to the lie. Shoulders back, she pushed open the door and climbed out of the truck.
With her head high, she started up the sidewalk, noting the neatly maintained flowers lining it—that much hadn’t changed—and her world began to slip back toward the past. She pushed aside her worry and picked up her pace as the front door opened.
“Zoe!” Mama Bell appeared, her plump arms open wide. She still smelled the same—of freshly baked cookies. Her curly hair might be grayer now, but she still wore it in a long ponytail.
Zoe flung herself into the other woman’s hug—her mama, she told herself fiercely. No matter that they weren’t related by blood. After all, Mrs. Bell had stepped in and raised Zoe when her real mother had gone to jail. Even after, when Zoe’s mother had been released and wanted her back, Zoe had spent more time at the Bells’ than in the cramped apartment her mother called home.
Actually, Zoe had come to rely on the Bell family long before her drug-addicted mother had been killed. Ever since Zoe’d met a five-year-old Shayna in kindergarten and the two girls had become best friends Mrs. Bell had recognized Zoe’s desperate need for family and love and had welcomed her as if she was one of her own. Zoe had called her Mama Bell ever since.
“Come inside,” Mama Bell managed, openly crying. “Oh, I’m so glad you could make it home.” Catching sight of Brock, the older woman brightened. “Brock, don’t just stand there like a stranger. Get on in here, too.”
But Brock shook his head. Zoe wasn’t surprised. “I’ve