It's been five years since the sudden disappearance of Cora Cadigan's mother. Five years since the case was closed before it even began.
In the final summer before the end of high school, Cora knows it's her last opportunity to find the answers she...
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"Ouch."
To stay silent, I'd tiptoed through most of the house. Only, it means that my feet have cramped, causing me to ram straight into the living room wall on the first floor. A text comes through seconds later; from Lucas. I can hear his feet thumping around above me, juxtaposing my need for silence.
'You good down there?'
With a quiet huff, I roll my eyes and quickly send back a thumbs up emoji. I'm not even entirely sure why I'm trying to be quiet. It isn't like Tom is going to be home anytime soon.
For the first half hour, I'd thoroughly searched through the kitchen. I'd checked every draw and every cupboard I'd seen. Nothing out of the ordinary in there. Lucas has taken up the second floor without being asked, hurrying up the stairs like his life depended on it. For someone who was so apprehensive before, he sure knows how to create some noise.
I crouch down, rifling through the first cupboard in the living room. Most of the shelves are empty or filled with random collectables, like toy cars and a few records.
My knees crack when I stand, an empty feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. The smallest amount of doubt is creeping in. If I find nothing, I've put Lucas and I in danger for no apparent reason.
I shake out my legs before striding towards the other side of the room. For someone who has lived here his entire life, he sure doesn't have a lot of meaningful items. A couch here, a small coffee table there. No pictures, no signs of life. In fact, now that I think about it, Tom has never even had a partner. He's been alone since his own parent's died.
I stifle a laugh when I hear a loud thud from upstairs.
'Are you good up there?' I text.
"Just peachy!" Lucas shouts.
Within seconds, my phone rings in my hand. "You found anything?" he breathes down the line.
"Nope," I sigh, moving out of the lounge room towards the darkened hallway. "I didn't peg him for the minimalistic type."
"Me either," he agrees. "It's almost like—like he's ready to up and leave."
