The Vanishing Girls Of Willow Creek (Willow Creek, #1)

Chapter Eighteen

It's easy to play the blame game, find a scapegoat, but no one person could be responsible for the challenges we face or the lives lost. - Craig Fugate

Another day of hell down. Only this time I was forced to face it alone.

There are two more months to go. Then I'm free to do whatever I want. Even if it means leaving.

Willow Creek had always been my safe haven, my sanctuary. But lately, it felt more like a prison than a home. The familiar streets and faces no longer brought me comfort; instead, they served as a constant reminder of the life I yearned to escape.

I had never ventured beyond the town limits, save for one hazy memory of visiting my grandfather in the hospital when I was just a child. The thought of what lay beyond Willow Creek's borders tantalized me, beckoning me with promises of adventure and freedom.

After picking up Jon's homework from all his classes, I headed outside to wait for my mom.

Not ten minutes later, she pulled up in her black Charger.

"Sorry I'm late, hun. I had to handle a few last-minute things at the bakery." She said as I sat in the passenger's seat.

As I sat in the passenger seat, holding onto Jon's homework folders tightly, I couldn't shake off the unease that had settled in the pit of my stomach. The looming visit to the police station was weighing heavily on me, despite knowing deep down that I had nothing to hide.

The drive towards the station felt like an eternity, each passing mile adding to my growing sense of dread. The forest outside seemed to whisper secrets, its dark and twisted branches reaching out like fingers, beckoning me into its depths.

The memory of the hidden grove Jon and I stumbled upon flashed before my eyes—a serene oasis amidst the eerie backdrop of twisted trees and tangled undergrowth.

It was a small area, blooming with all types of flowers, from daisies and peonies to lavender and even a few hibiscus'. Whoever took the time to plant them did an amazing job. It was on the edge of a creek.

Someone had even built a wooden bench and placed it overlooking the creek and deeper into the forest.

It was not far from the bridge that sat atop the stream, providing a path few dared to trek.

As quickly as those thoughts surfaced, they were replaced by a more sinister presence lurking at the edge of my consciousness.

The rumours about a cult operating within those woods resurfaced, sending shivers down my spine. The unease that had gripped the town for years now seemed to seep into every crevice of my being.

Before I knew it, we had arrived at our destination. The police station loomed before us, a stark reminder of the impending interrogation awaiting me inside.

As I stepped out of the car, my mother's reassuring words barely registered over the deafening sound of my own heartbeat.

Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and followed her inside.

The familiar scent of stale coffee and paperwork greeted us as I followed my mother as she approached the secretary at the front desk. She introduced herself and informed them that Sheriff Reyes had requested my presence for questioning regarding Miranda's disappearance and murder.

We were asked to take a seat while we waited for the sheriff to become available. I sat down behind the main desk, observing the chaos unfolding around me.

My mother excused herself to take a call from Jenna, leaving me alone in this sea of law enforcement.

I glanced around the room, taking note of the officers bustling about their business. The air was thick with tension and suspicion, making me feel like a trapped animal awaiting its fate.