"Emmaline?" It had taken only seconds to recognize her. Emma hadn't aged very much since we were teenagers and she looked absolutely gorgeous. But I couldn't figure out what the fuck she was doing in my house.
Emmaline immediately dropped the bags she was carrying in shock and slunk back against the wall.
"Who are you? What are you doing in my house?" She said quickly, her eyes drawn to the fire quietly burning behind me.
"I was going to ask you the same thing. Why are you here?"
"What are you burning?" Her voice had risen to high pitched hysteria. "What's in the sink?"
"What are you doing in my house, Emma?" Her eyes finally slid up to my face at the familiar use of her name. I watched hesitant recognition dawn there.
"Sam?"
"Yeah. Now answer my question. Why are you in my house? Where's my mom?"
"Your...mom?" She repeated.
"Yes, she lives here...you know: tall, brunette, always trying to feed everyone, married to the sheriff?"
Emmaline finally seemed to regain her composure. She straitening up against the wall but refused to move away from it.
"Actually, I'm married to the sheriff. He did mention you were in town, come to think of it." She said.
"You're married to my dad?" My stomach heaved.
"Yes. For about seven years now." She crossed her arms in front on her and smirked. What had he done to her? Emmaline was never like this when I'd known her; she had been sweet and friendly and shy - it was the reason I had crushed on her so hard.
With a sinking feeling I remembered that my dad had known all that because we'd spoken about it my feelings for Emmaline at length. Jimmy's words came back to me unbidden from days before: Walker has a thing about playing sick games with his kids.
I turned and threw up in the sink, dousing what little fire now remained in the pile of ash and twisted glass.
"That's revolting. What were you burning in my sink?" She asked again.
"Where is my mother?" I asked, spitting out the last of the bile.
"She died years ago. Less than a year after you were run out of town." Emma said. She was beginning to sound annoyed...and bored.
"My mother is dead?"
"Yes. Dead." Emma clipped.
It was almost a relief. If my mom had been gone for so long it meant that she hadn't been a part of any of this. But the pain was lurking there, too. I could only hope that her death had been natural because if it hadn't been all I had was the prayer that the sheriff had shown mercy to his wife of 22 years.
"I am his wife now." Emma's shrill voice cut through the fog of grief that had surrounded me.
"How did she die?" I asked.
"I don't remember," Emmaline rolled her eyes. "It was so long ago, but it's not like you were here so what do you care?"
"You need to get out of here, Emma. He's dangerous."
