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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"Shit."
I wake to the sound of a loud crash. It filters in through my warm bedroom. It comes again, sounding from the kitchen.
I'd barely slept two hours. The knowledge that someone in Rebecca's office knew something about my mother's disappearance hung in the air like a dark cloud. Rebecca hadn't found the person who had written it, asking practically everyone in her office after Rhys pleaded with her. She hadn't questioned him on it further, despite how weird his request must have sounded out of context.
The crash sounds again and I spring out of bed, adrenaline coursing through my body. Despite not sleeping, I was on high alert now. Something was going on in my house.
I slam my bedroom door open, Marcus's threat looming in the air. What if he was here to hurt me? What if he went near my dad?
I approach the kitchen with hurried caution, preparing myself for an ambush. I peek down the hallway, noticing dad's slightly ajar door. For once, I hoped he was so passed the point of sobriety that he couldn't hear what was going on. He'd be no hope if he was intoxicated anyway.
When I peer into the kitchen, a strangled scream piercing the air, my defences drop. My shoulders involuntarily droop forward as I approach my father slowly.
There was no threat. It was just my dad.
He slams a glass bottle down on the counter, shattering it instantly. His hand was battered and bloody, seeping from a deep cut etched into his palm. One look at the cold, linoleum floor tells me that it wasn't the first glass to be broken.
"Dad?" my voice is barely above a whisper but it gains his attention instantly.
He offers me a hearty grin, his eyes are bloodshot. "Corrie," he croaks, his nickname for me wrenching my broken heart.
"Dad, what's going on?" I take a tentative step towards him, worried that I would frighten him off.
He didn't often get in these moods, but when he did, I knew I needed to be careful. Not because he'd hurt me, but because I knew he was fragile. Despite being a seemingly strong man, I knew better. I knew how hard he was hurt when mum disappeared.
