Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
WILLA
O fficer Cory Teague stumbled out of the woods and was promptly sick right at the edge of the beach. At least I wasn’t the only one shaken up by our gruesome find. As Sawyer came out after him, I clutched the insulating foil blanket tighter around myself, but it didn’t help. I still shook as if we were sitting on a glacier in Antarctica instead of on a North Carolina beach in humid, high summer. Shock was like that. Roy pressed into me, lending warmth as well as comfort, and I clung to him because I was one wrong thought away from descending back into a panic attack.
The faint sound of radio chatter carried on the breeze as Cory reported in, confirming that we had, indeed, found human remains. Chief Carson was no doubt tied up with post-hurricane triage, along with all other emergency personnel on the island, so he’d sent one of his junior officers. He’d probably thought—or hoped, at least—that I’d been hysterical and mistaken. That it was animal bones or a rock or some other benign thing that had been uncovered by the storm. Because we didn’t have things like murder on Hatterwick.
But I wasn’t mistaken. There wasn’t really any other explanation for the round hole just above the empty eye sockets. Not when it appeared the remains had been buried. I suspected I’d be seeing that horrible vision in my nightmares for years to come.
My chest tightened again.
No. Nope. Not going there. Not right now.
Five things I can see. Ocean. Beach. Roy. Sea birds. Driftwood.
Four things I can feel. Sand beneath me. The wind in my hair. Sweat drying on my skin. Blister on my foot.
Three things I can hear. The surf. Gulls. Wind in the trees.
Two things I can smell. Salt and wet earth.
One thing I can taste. Sour in my mouth. I hadn’t been sick. Yet. But it had been a near thing.
Sawyer hunkered down before me. “Holding up?”
“I wanna go home,” I whispered. Not that I could quite face the lengthy hike back, but anything was better than staying here. Because I knew where we were. We’d come at it from a different direction than I had all those years ago, but this was only a hundred yards or so from where I’d drowned. I hadn’t come here in all the years I’d been back on island, and I was barely keeping it together now. The edge of a migraine pressed at my brain, and every instinct I had shouted at me to run.
Sawyer pivoted to sit beside me on the sand, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Soon. Cory will need to ask us some questions, I expect.”
I leaned into him, wishing for all the world that we’d just gone back the way we’d come.
A few minutes later, Cory made his way over to us. As he’d been only a year ahead of me in school, I couldn't think of him as Officer Teague, despite the uniform. He’d always had something of a baby face, which he’d attempted to offset with a goatee. But I still saw the kid who’d been challenged to eat glue sticks in second grade. He looked about as sick now, his skin pale and drawn beneath the reddish beard.
“Hey there, Willa. I just need to ask you a few questions. You up to that?”
“If it means I can get out of here sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll make it quick as I can.” He pulled out his phone to record the conversation. “This is Officer Cory Teague speaking with Willa Sutter and Sawyer Malone. Can you walk me through how you came to find the… the remains? Where you were. What you were doing out here. How you stumbled upon them.”
Focusing on Sawyer’s solid presence and Roy’s bulk beside me, I took him through it.
“Did you notice any identifiable features or clothing on the remains? Anything that stood out?”
I arched a brow. “Did I notice any identifiable features on the skull I basically fell on? You mean besides the hole that looks like a gunshot wound to the forehead? No. If the—” I swallowed. “If the rest of the skeleton is there, I didn’t see. Maybe it’s buried beneath the sand.”
Cory gulped, and I wondered if he was about to be sick again. I wouldn’t blame him.
“Did either of you touch or move the remains at all before calling it in?”
“No.”
“Did you notice any other debris, items, or potential evidence around the scene?”
I’d been too busy having a panic attack to notice anything.
Sawyer squeezed me. “No. Nothing. We removed ourselves from the immediate vicinity as soon as we realized what we’d found.”
“Do either of you have any idea how long the remains might have been out there? Were they weathered or more recent?”
Did I look like a forensic expert?
“No clue. It’s not… fresh,” Sawyer said. “In all likelihood, the storm uncovered them.”
“Do y’all frequent that area often? Had you noticed any sign of a disturbance on the ground before today?”
“I haven’t been to this part of the property in twelve years.” I’d done everything in my power to avoid exactly this. Well, not exactly this. I’d never imagined there was a body out here. But I’d given this area a wide berth, attempting to stave off the terror coming near it always incited.
“Did you take any photos or video at the scene before I arrived? I’ll need copies of anything you captured.”
“No.”
“Okay. That’s all I’ve got for now. Chief Carson will probably have some additional questions for you later. Can you think of anything else to add?”
“Is it Gwen?” I knew there was no possible way he could know the answer to that. But I had to ask because the question had been beating against my brain since I’d all but fallen onto the remains.
Cory took a deep breath. “I don’t know. According to protocol, the remains will be removed to the medical examiner’s office in Elizabeth City on the mainland. Any detailed exam will take time, but they’ll probably be able to determine the basics about gender, relative age, and potential race of the deceased. I’m not sure how fast we’ll be able to get the remains there, under the circumstances.”
Pretty fast, I was willing to bet. Hatterwick had an incredibly low crime rate, at least for anything serious. I suspected Miles would be putting a lot of pressure on Chief Carson to do whatever was possible to expedite things, both from the perspective of being able to reassure the public and because this could possibly provide some closure to a years old mystery.
But if it was Gwen, would it provide closure? Would there be any evidence of what had happened to her? Anything to suggest how she’d ended up here?
This was so damned close to where I’d been in the water. What if there was something buried deep in my lost memories that might answer some of this? Had what happened to me and what happened to Gwen somehow been connected? It wasn’t something I’d allowed myself to consider for years, because even approaching the subject sent me into a blind panic or a migraine. But it was impossible not to wonder now when I knew there were human remains only a few dozen yards inside the treeline.
A shaft of pain shot directly through my eye, and I squeezed them shut.
I needed to stop this line of thought before this migraine struck in earnest. I didn’t know it was Gwen. She was just forefront in my mind. The only thing I knew for sure was that someone was dead on my grandparents’ property. On my property.
What did this even mean for me?
“I think this is enough for now,” Sawyer announced. “I’m gonna get her home. It’s been… a lot.”
“Of course.” Cory looked around, as if only just realizing we didn’t have a vehicle. “I’d give you a ride back, but I’ve been ordered to secure the scene.”
“We understand. We’ll manage. C’mon, Wren.” Sawyer climbed to his feet and lifted me to mine.
My legs felt wobbly, as if they were made of rubber.
Sawyer’s hands tightened on mine. “Okay?”
Not even a little bit. But I would be. “Just get me out of here.”
We both turned at the sound of a motor. Far out on the water, running parallel to the island, a boat was headed in our direction at a rapid clip.
“Do you suppose that’s Chief Carson?” God, I really didn’t want to endure more questions right now.
Sawyer squinted. “I think it’s the Coast Guard.”
As the boat neared, I recognized the familiar red-orange color and shape of a Zodiac as it bounced over the waves. It appeared there were two people aboard—the driver and a dark-haired woman who began waving and pointing as soon as she spotted us.
“Is that… Gabi?” Had my best friend commandeered a Coast Guard vessel to come check on me?
The boat turned in our direction, slowing on the approach until it gently beached on the sand. Gabi was over the side in an instant, rushing toward me.
“Oh my God, Willa! We just heard. Are you okay?”
Of course I wasn’t okay. I’d just found a body that might be our missing best friend. But I didn’t say that.
“I’m not hurt.”
As her critical doctor’s gaze skimmed over me, my own slid to the driver of the boat as he approached. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the mirrored aviator glasses, but he had the same kind of calm, capable demeanor Sawyer projected. He was indeed wearing a Coast Guard uniform beneath his life vest.
“Honey, you have blood on your knees. And if you’re wrapped up in that foil blanket and still cold, you’re definitely in shock. I want to get you into the clinic.”
“No!” The word came out far sharper than I’d intended. But I couldn’t take being in a medical facility after all this. I was so very close to breaking. “I just want to go home.”
“Willa—”
The new arrival pressed a hand to the small of Gabi’s back. “Maybe give her a chance to breathe, Gabs. Reckon she’s done had herself a bit of a scare.” He offered a half smile. “We’ll give y’all a lift somewhere, if you need.”
Sawyer took his proffered hand. “That’d be good. My wife’s had a hell of a day. Who are you, by the way?”
“Pardon me. Petty Officer First Class Daniel LaRue, U.S. Coast Guard. At your service.” His accent immediately called to mind jazz clubs, beignets, and alligators. The bayou accent was so unexpected, it distracted me for a moment from my own discomfort.
It took some effort to get us all loaded into the boat, Roy included. My limbs didn’t much want to cooperate. I clambered gracelessly over the side and would’ve fallen straight to the floor of the rigid hull of the inflatable boat if not for Daniel catching me. I got fitted with a life jacket and dropped down to huddle at the side. Roy flattened himself next to me.
Gabi sat on my other side, moving in close to take my hands. “I’ve gotcha. Headache?”
“Migraine,” I gritted out.
“We’ll get you fixed up as soon as we get back to Sutter House.”
Because the light was starting to strobe from the pain, I shut my eyes again and tried to focus on literally anything else. Like the fact that Gabi clearly knew this guy. “New Orleans?”
“Remember that situationship I mentioned?” Gabi murmured.
“Yeah?”
“He’s him. I’ll explain everything later.”
“Holding you to that.”
Daniel fired up the motor, putting an end to any easy conversation. The trip to the north end of the island didn’t take long. Soon enough, we were easing up to our private dock. Daniel and Sawyer secured the vessel, then helped us out of the boat.
“We’ll get those knees cleaned, some meds for your migraine, and I’ll finish checking you over. I’ve got something that will help you sleep if the migraine meds don’t do it.”
“No!” Instinctively, I backed away from my friend into Sawyer.
His arms came around me. “It’s okay. Nobody’s gonna sedate you, Wren.”
I knew Gabi was staring. This wasn’t rational behavior, but I couldn’t stop myself. I’d get a little bit of a pass based on current circumstances, but I knew she’d have questions. And at some point, I was going to have to make explanations.
Conversation went on around me as we slowly made our way up to the house.
“—could have been a lot worse. The storm lost a lot of power once it made landfall. There’s a lot of cleanup to do, but the degree of objective damage could’ve been a lot worse.”
“—saying power will be restored in a couple days.”
“Our generator will hold out that long.”
“The roads will take longer.”
Everything felt very distant. As if I was observing it all from outside myself. That was good. Better. I didn’t feel the pain in my head so keenly this way.
It was Sawyer who cleaned my knees where I’d scraped them up when I’d fallen. Sawyer who cleaned my hands. After that, I sat docile through Gabi’s examination, unable to rouse myself to do more than offer one syllable answers.
Dissociation. That’s what my psychiatrist had called this. He’d always said it like it was a bad thing. But I needed the distance. Needed that wall between me and everything I was feeling. It was too much. I’d spent the last ten years actively avoiding exactly this. But maybe, if I could keep the wall in place, I could manage to do the hard thing and face the memories that had caused me so much trauma. Maybe somewhere on the other side of them were answers for all of us.
“I don’t like this, Sawyer. She’s way too shocky.”
“She’ll be better after she’s slept.”
I only half listened as she told him what to keep an eye out for. I was too busy reaching for the blissful tendrils of oblivion as my migraine meds began to kick in.
Sawyer was right. Everything would be better on the other side. It had to be.