It wasn’t a sight that any resident saw on a routine basis. The last time Rose saw a crime scene was on the news.
All the onlookers peered inside of her car as she passed. Her shoulders slumped as if she could make herself smaller. She knew she’d have a lot of questions coming her way. It was why she needed distance. At least if she could think through all of it, then she’d be able to sleep tonight and prepare herself for answering questions from the curious townies.
After arriving at the house, she quietly slipped up the stairs to her apartment before Mrs. Collins spotted her. Mrs. Collins rarely left her home, but she positioned her couch within arm’s length of her landline phone. She knew more gossip than anyone in town and did so without much effort.
The apartment was quiet as the echo of the crashing ocean faded from her mind. The image of the long-haired girl followed Rose around. She appeared in the corner of her bedroom as Rose changed out of her work clothes and even in the bathroom where she scrubbed the day off her body.
The girl accompanied Rose until she couldn’t take it anymore. Instead of digging into the stack of Highland Romances that she’d picked up from the library, she poured a glass of wine and settled at her desk.
As the computer booted up, she took a long drag from the glass. She rolled the sweet Cabernet around in her mouth as her fingers hovered over the keypad.
Without a name, what could she search for?
The girl couldn’t have been more than 18 years old. Was there a place to search for missing teens?
Rose scoured local newspapers, pushing out into Rhode Island and Massachusetts. The few relevant articles that she found didn’t match any descriptions of the girl.
Was it too soon for anyone to report her missing? Kids might still be doing after-school activities, so it was possible that no one would have noticed yet.
She drained the glass of wine and closed her laptop. She had as much information as she did walking through her front door. But in that time, she hadn’t worried about Pearl at all.
Purpose settled deep within her bones. Rose stood up and silently vowed to find out more about this girl and what had caused her to jump to an early and watery grave.
For years, Rose thought she’d finally beaten the nightmares. After seeing the girl jump into the ocean, they came back with a vengeance. This time, she wasn’t alone. The long-haired girl’s face joined her in the water. Those beautiful and mysterious eyes widened until they looked as if they were going to pop out of her head. Bubbles flurried around her mouth as her lips tried to form words.
Rose reached out to her, but she froze in fear. The scaly object tightened around their legs, dragging both of them downward.
Over the years, the events from that night shifted. Mom never gave her an answer about how she knew Rose was in the ocean. And seaweed didn’t have that kind of force behind it. The questions never left her mind, but each time she asked Pearl about it, the devastation in her mother’s eyes prevented her from pushing.
That night had been traumatic for Pearl too. Rose hated to see Pearl upset about anything, so eventually, she stopped asking. And had refused to step into the ocean since. Reen tried to change her mind about the ocean, but it never worked. The fear was so paralyzing that it cost Rose the closeness with her sister too.
The flickering image of the girl followed Rose around her apartment all morning. Without a phone call from the Whinding House, she had no excuse to be late for work again, even if she was seeing someone who wasn’t there.
Throughout her shift at The Siren, her mind wandered enough that her work suffered. There were only a few customers, but Rose managed to screw up at least one item on most of their orders.
It didn’t help that every single local who came into the restaurant mentioned the girl who’d committed suicide on the pier.
Local gossip never bothered her much unless she was the center of it. The last time she’d felt this way was when the rumors swirled around town about Mom ending up in the middle of the park, dressed in her Sunday best, at two in the morning.
Most asked about her involvement.
Did you know the girl?
That must have been so awful.
Did you see her body?
She muttered quick and dismissive responses, not wanting to dwell more than a few seconds on the topic.
By the end of the day, she had the urge to jump off the pier herself.
The one thing all the conversations had in common was that no one knew the identity of the girl. There weren’t any missing locals, at least as far as anyone knew.
Desperation fueled the relentless thoughts swirling in her mind. Once she got the girl out of her head, then she’d be able to release the ghost following her around and get back to a normal and nightmare-free life.
The dinner crowd kept Missy busy enough in the kitchen to almost miss Rose sneaking out the back door.
‘You know I’m going to stop over tonight,’ Missy called to her.
‘Bring wine,’ Rose said as she pulled the door closed.
Rose had only been to the Burrow Police Department twice in her life. With her tendency to stay out of trouble, there was no need, other than the obligatory elementary and middle school field trips. She passed it on the way to the Whinding House but rarely gave the tan brick building a second look.
Her clammy hands curled around the steering wheel as she drove past the police cars parked in a row at the far end of the lot.
Pressure built in her throat and she drew in several breaths before trying to get out of the car. She had a right to get closer. Patrick had asked her if she needed anything.
Yes, Patrick, all I need to know is who she was. Then I can go back to my ordinary life instead of seeing her everywhere.
When she finally got out of the car, she steadied herself and picked up her pace toward the building.
The front doors spilled into a lobby. The gray-tiled floors were slick and impeccably clean. At the far end of the room was a desk with a female uniformed officer typing away at a computer. Her thin lips pursed as she concentrated on her work.
It wasn’t until Rose stood right in front of her that the officer tilted her head to the side and lifted her gaze. ‘Good afternoon.’
‘Hi,’ Rose said, pushing through a shaky smile. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous; it wasn’t as if she had committed a crime. Well, an almost hit and run, but no one had charged her yet. ‘I’d like to speak with Patrick McCreary.’
‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘I don’t. But I was the one who witnessed that girl jumping off the pier.’
The officer’s lips tugged downward. ‘So, you have more information.’ It wasn’t a question, and Rose chose not to answer. The officer picked up the phone and pressed one of the buttons on the keypad. She cradled the phone against her shoulder and focused on her computer screen again. ‘Yes, I have a Miss –’ She glanced at her, her thin eyebrows raised.
‘Rose Barros.’
‘Rose Barros. She’d like to speak with you about the suicide victim.’
Rose licked her suddenly dry lips. Suicide. It made sense that they’d leaped to that conclusion, but for some reason, it didn’t sit well with her. It was too final.
‘I’ll send her back,’ the officer said and placed the phone down before standing up.
The officer