CHAPTER 6
The car was lulled along by the steady hum of the highway, interrupted now and then by the low roar of passing trucks. Their heavy rumble made the vehicle vibrate ever so slightly. Sparse raindrops tapped lazily against the windows.
Lake sat behind the wheel, steering with one hand. In the other, he held a paper cup of coffee that had long since begun to go cold.
Parker sprawled across the passenger seat as if trying to take up as much space as possible. One shoulder pressed against the door, one leg stretched out in front of him, and his face carried the weight of all the world's suffering. For the first four hours he'd managed, but now his back was persistently reminding him that sitting in the same position for this long was torture.
In the back seat, Hong had assembled a veritable warehouse of strategic supplies. Bags were piled around him on all sides, rustling with every movement. The smell of chips, gummy candy, and cheap sweets had long since merged into a single sticky wave of sugar filling the car.
“Jesus, Billy,” Parker said, glancing over his shoulder and pursing his lips irritably. “What've you got in there, the entire store?”
“It's a strategic reserve,” Hong declared with great importance, pulling a packet of gummy bears from a rustling bag. “Who knows where we'll end up.”
Lake's eyes flickered in the rearview mirror. One eyebrow lifted slightly.
“Then rustle a little quieter,” Parker muttered, turning back toward the road. “Or I'll personally drop you off on the shoulder.”
“I can share.” Hong wasn't offended in the slightest. Smiling, he held out a bright green gummy bear.
“Want a green one? They're the best.”
Parker snorted but took it. The sugar coating crunched between his teeth, and sweetness spread across his tongue.
Damn. The green one really was pretty good.
A few minutes later, he reached back for more.
“Give me another,” he mumbled, taking a couple and holding one out toward Lake.
Aaron flicked his eyes toward him, took a short breath through his nose, and said nothing.
“Don't want it? Fine by me.” Parker shrugged and popped the gummy bear into his mouth. “More for me.”
“Just don't get anything on the seats,” Lake said coolly, without changing his tone.
Rick smirked. Turning back toward the window, he deliberately chewed as loudly as possible.
Hong immediately burst out laughing.
Beyond the glass, the rain clouds slowly drifted apart like tired beasts. Through the gaps between them, the dull but long-awaited rays of autumn sunlight finally broke through.
They settled softly across the wet asphalt, reflected in the rearview mirror, and turned the raindrops clinging to the windows into gold.
The cabin immediately felt brighter.
Cozier.
Parker tilted his face toward the rare warmth and closed his eyes. The wet road, the steady hum of the tires, even Hong's endless bags in the back seat suddenly stopped irritating him quite so much.
The drive became noticeably more pleasant.
About twenty minutes later, the silence in the car was broken by an argument over music.
“Turn this misery off,” Rick muttered lazily, pointing at the radio, from which a slow, heavy seventies rock song was drifting.
“It's not misery,” Aaron replied calmly, without taking his eyes off the road. His fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel in rhythm. “It's a classic.”
“A classic?” Rick grimaced. “This sounds like the soundtrack to a movie where everyone gets murdered in an abandoned motel.”
A bag rustled from the back seat.
Hong cautiously leaned forward, poking out from his pile of snacks like someone emerging from a tent.
“Maybe I should pick?” he offered, and without waiting for an answer, grabbed the cable and connected his phone.
A second later, bright, aggressively cheerful K-pop exploded from the speakers: a catchy melody, rhythmic beat, light voices.
Parker jerked upright, opened his eyes, and stared at Hong as though he'd lost his mind.
“You can't be serious...”
Billy merely settled in more comfortably, a bag of chips on his lap, and nodded along to the music.
“Very serious. It boosts morale and keeps you energized.”
To Rick's surprise, Lake tilted his head slightly and remarked:
“Not bad.”
Parker's eyebrows climbed so high they nearly disappeared beneath his bangs.
“Dear God,” he groaned, slumping back against the window. “Why am I in this car?!”
By the next chorus, Billy was already singing along, drumming his fingers on the back of the seat. Aaron remained restrained, but he was clearly steering more rhythmically now, his head moving almost imperceptibly with the beat. Rick rolled his eyes, pressed his forehead against the cold glass, and muttered under his breath:
“If I survive this trip, it'll be a miracle.”
The rest of the drive passed more peacefully.
Outside, the world grew grayer. The sky gradually lost its color, and the light inside the car became soft and blurred.
Parker stopped complaining and fell quiet, staring off somewhere to the side, while Lake drove with focused concentration, the car gliding steadily along the highway.
An hour later, all three of them were feeling the fatigue, and Aaron pulled off the road. Even the car seemed to creak tiredly, as though it, too, was asking for a break.
Five and a half hours on the road had taken their toll. Their eyes stung from strain, their shoulders ached, and their stomachs were demanding something hot, so they decided to stop at a gas station.
The neon lights were harsh on the eyes. The asphalt gleamed from the rain, and the air smelled of gasoline and something sweet — either pastries from a vending machine or melted chocolate.
Parker immediately climbed out and stretched with obvious pleasure, working the stiffness out of his back. After several hours in the car, even the cool air felt like salvation.
Hong, glowing with excitement like a child, was the first to dash into the station's convenience store.
Rick watched him go, snorted, and followed at a leisurely pace.
A few minutes later, he returned to the car carrying two cups of coffee and held one out to Lake.
“Here.”
Aaron took it, drank a sip, and raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Strong,” he remarked. “How did you know that's how I like it?”
There was a hint of surprise in his voice.
Rick smirked, leaned back against the cold metal of the car, and took a sip from his own cup.
“Believe it or not, I'm still observant.”
Steam drifted slowly into the cool air. Aaron didn't answer. He merely turned the cup thoughtfully in his hands.
Nearby, a gas pump clicked, breaking the brief pause.
Rick watched the rising steam for a moment, then glanced toward the convenience store and huffed.
“Tell me something. If we spend another couple hours on this highway, do you think Billy will manage to eat through all his supplies?”
The corner of Lake's mouth twitched faintly, but he said nothing.
“I'm serious,” Rick continued, taking another sip. “Did you hear him? He said he was running low on supplies. There's enough stuff in the back seat to survive a nuclear winter.”
“Are you deliberately trying to make me laugh, or do you still not know how to keep quiet?” Aaron asked, looking at him over the rim of his cup.
“Well, at least I'm trying,” Rick snorted, shrugging. “What's the map say? Long way to go?”
“About an hour,” Aaron replied, checking his phone.
“Let me see.”
He stepped closer and reached for the phone. At that exact moment, Billy emerged from the store carrying enough bags to suggest he was planning a week-long picnic.
“You again?” Parker narrowed his eyes.
“What?” Hong said. “Look at these. Spicy pepper chips — we don't have these back home. And a ginseng energy drink!”
“You won't sleep all night,” Lake shook his head.
“But I'll be more awake than anyone else!” Billy declared proudly. “You're drinking coffee? What about me?”
“You've got your ginseng energy drink,” Rick smirked.
Hong huffed in offense and cracked open the can with a loud hiss.
They climbed back into the car. This time, before pulling out, Lake glanced at Parker.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
Just words. But Rick suddenly caught himself realizing that the simple, everyday gratitude made him feel... a little warmer.
He immediately hid the faint smile behind his cup.
The car merged smoothly back into traffic.
Lights flickered beyond the windows. Twilight thickened around them.
A difficult meeting awaited them ahead, but for this brief stretch of road, Rick allowed himself to simply enjoy the silence and the presence of the people beside him — people who somehow seemed closer now.
The headlights pulled road signs, mile markers, and silhouettes of trees out of the darkness. The radio quietly played some old rock ballad, the volume turned down almost to a whisper.
Hong sat in the back crunching chips with great enthusiasm, occasionally commenting on things outside.
“Oh! Did you see that? A whole motel designed like a cowboy saloon. Straight out of a Clint Eastwood movie.”
“If you stay there, Billy, you'll wake up without your wallet and with somebody else's horse tied out front,” Parker said, raising an eyebrow.
“At least it'll make a good story,” Hong replied without missing a beat, holding the chips forward. “Want some?”
Parker waved them away, but the bag immediately migrated to Lake.
Aaron silently took a chip, ate it, and continued driving as though this were perfectly normal.
“Seriously?” Rick finally said. “You eat spicy pepper chips?”
“I like spicy food,” Lake replied shortly, without so much as raising an eyebrow.
Rick blinked in surprise.
“You're always so... proper. I figured the wildest thing you consumed was coffee and dry toast.”
Aaron cast him a brief sideways glance.
“Sometimes you should trust more than just your intuition, Parker.”
Rick rolled his eyes.
Damn.
Sometimes it felt like Lake did it on purpose — got under his skin, then pulled the ground back beneath his feet with a single sentence.
From the back seat, Hong snorted with laughter.
“Ha! Oh my God, you two are like an old married couple!”
“Hong!” Lake and Parker said at the exact same time.
The young man burst out laughing even harder, ducking behind the seat.
For a while, warm silence settled over the car. The road lulled them along, and flashes of streetlights drifted across their faces.
Billy sat quietly for a time, staring out the window as though gathering his thoughts.
The engine hummed softly, the tires whispered across the wet asphalt, and the steady sound only emphasized the tension building inside him.
“I want to say thank you for taking me with you...” he finally said. His voice was quieter than usual. “You know, I've never really gone anywhere before.”
Rick turned his head slightly, glancing into the back seat.
Billy was sitting there with his backpack hugged to his chest, doing his best to smile.
The smile was weak.
“My grandmother raised me and my sister,” he continued. “She took care of us after our parents died. It was a car accident. On Mockingbird Bridge...”
He hesitated and lowered his eyes, his fingers nervously tugging at the zipper of his backpack.
“I was six. Julie was only one.”
Rick turned toward the window. For some reason, he couldn't think of a single sarcastic remark.
He let out a slow breath but said nothing, listening.
“When I was a kid, I used to imagine the front door opening and Mom and Dad walking in. Alive...” Billy swallowed, and his voice trembled almost imperceptibly. “And taking us home.”
The cabin grew especially quiet. Aaron cast a brief glance into the rearview mirror.
For several seconds, his attention remained on Billy.
“I used to imagine us driving across the country,” Billy continued, his voice warmer now. “Stopping at gas stations. Mom laughing in the front seat. Dad checking the mirror to look at me and Julie... Julie's already asleep, and I'm just sitting there watching them... and I can't stop.”
A shining trail appeared on his cheek. He quickly wiped it away with his sleeve, but Rick noticed.
A lump formed in his throat, as though Billy's words had somehow lodged there.
“That's why I joined the police,” Hong said, his voice rough. “Grandma's sick, and I have to take care of my sister. I promised myself I'd protect them. I'd do everything I could... I don't want anyone else to go through what my sister and I went through.”
He let out a shaky breath and licked his dry lips.
“The place where they died... I've never gone back. Not once. It's off-limits for me. I know that going there wouldn't change anything, but for some reason I'm afraid... afraid that it would... break me. Afraid to see it.”
He fell silent, closing his eyes for a second, then suddenly added with a slightly embarrassed smile:
“Sorry. I got a little emotional.”
Rick swallowed and glanced at Aaron. He was still silent, but there was respect in that silence.
Rick himself couldn't even manage one of his usual jokes. Instead, he simply nudged Billy's knee with his fist.
Awkward. Almost boyish.
But Hong understood.
Silence settled over the car again, but it was no longer the empty silence of the road.
There was something familiar and important in it.
“We're here,” Lake said quietly when the lights of Pinsborough appeared ahead.
A few minutes later, the car turned off the main road and stopped in front of a small house on the outskirts of town.
The road disappeared into darkness, and then a lone patch of light flared ahead — a lamp was burning in the window. Orange light spilled onto the street, stubbornly pushing back the night. As if someone in that house still expected the gate to swing open at any moment and their daughter to come running up the path to the porch.
Rick felt something heavy tighten in his chest.
No one needed to explain what that light meant. He glanced at Aaron.
Just a short while ago, he had been smiling in the car. Now he looked like a different person.
Cold. Focused. Distant. His face was an icy mask, his gaze direct and hard. Not a trace remained of the warmth that had flickered in his eyes half an hour earlier. Lake zipped up his jacket and walked to the door with steady confidence.
Parker and Hong followed him.
The doorbell rang. The dry sound pierced the overwhelming silence.
The door opened almost immediately, and a man in his fifties appeared on the threshold. His face was simple and kind... And his eyes. Eyes filled with pain so deep that Parker could feel it physically.
“Good evening. Mr. Green?” Lake's voice was dry and professional. “I'm Detective Aaron Lake. These are my colleagues, Richard Parker and William Su Hong. Sorry for the late visit. We're from the Dumpfield County Police Department. We need to speak with you about your daughter, Sarah Green.”
The man flinched. His face instantly came alive, his eyes lighting up with hope.
“Sarah?! My daughter?” he breathed, as though the words had burst out on their own. “You found her? Tell me — is she okay?”
He stepped forward and grabbed Lake's hand. There was so much desperation in that gesture that Parker felt a weight settle beneath his ribs.
“Well? Come in! Why are you standing out in the cold?” Green hurriedly stepped aside, inviting them inside.
The house smelled of stewed meat and fresh bread. The father was cooking dinner as though his daughter might come home at any moment.
Parker looked away.
The light in the window.
The smell of food.
The hope in Green's eyes.
Everything in this house refused to believe Sarah might not come back.
And he knew — knew far too well — that the chances were slim.
For the first time in a long while, he desperately wanted to believe.
Wanted to believe that «Girl Number Two» wasn't Sarah.
Inside, it was warm and quiet. An embroidered wall hanging hung on one wall, old but carefully preserved. A porcelain vase filled with dried daisies stood on a dresser. In the corner sat an armchair draped with a plaid blanket, as though someone had only just gotten up from it.
And everywhere there were traces of a young woman.
A denim jacket hung over the back of a chair. A mug with a dried tea stain around the rim sat on the coffee table. The shelves were crowded with school photographs, greeting cards, and little keepsakes people usually keep for years simply because they can't bear to throw them away.
A pair of women's sneakers stood by the door.
Parker slowed his step, and his gaze fell on a framed photograph. He reached out and carefully picked it up.
A young woman in a light-colored dress looked back at him from the picture. A warm smile.
A slightly teasing gaze. Blonde hair tousled by the wind.
Sarah.
Rick froze. At first he couldn't understand what had made him stop. Then something inside him tightened painfully.
She looked so much like Katie.
Not just in her features, but in something else as well — the smile, the look in her eyes, that living warmth that seemed to shine through even in a photograph.
His fingers tightened around the frame before he realized it.
“Tea?” the father's voice sounded unexpectedly lively. He was already hurrying toward the kitchen, putting a kettle on. “I have some fresh tea leaves. And cookies...”
“Thank you, but that's not necessary,” Lake stopped him gently. “We need to talk.”
The man froze. For a brief moment, hope flared in his eyes again.
“Of course. Of course...” He nodded quickly and lowered himself into an armchair.
Lake sat opposite him, straight-backed, as though every detail of his posture had been carefully measured in advance.
“Mr. Green, tell us about Sarah. Could she have had any enemies? Anyone who wished her harm? Any connection to drugs or questionable company?”
Silence settled over the room.
Rick shifted his shoulder slightly. It felt wrong hearing those questions here — among family photographs, the smell of home-cooked food, and belongings still waiting for their owner.
Beside him, Hong's pencil scratched softly across paper. He was already taking notes in his notebook, not missing a word.
“No, goodness, no,” Mr. Green lifted his head, almost startled, then immediately smiled gently. “My Sarah isn't like that. She doesn't get into conflicts with anyone. She's always willing to help. Kind. Hardworking.”
His face visibly softened.
“She plans to apply to Boston University. She's putting all her energy into her studies, hoping to earn a scholarship. I know she'll make it.”
“Is this her?” Hong nodded toward the framed photograph.
“Yes.” The man looked at the picture and smiled despite himself. “That's my Sarah. My sunshine.”
That was the kind of smile people reserved for someone who had long since become a part of them.
Rick lowered his gaze.
“Mr. Green, when was the last time you saw Sarah?” Lake asked calmly.
His voice remained even and composed. Too even for this house.
“Ten days ago.” Her father smiled faintly, as though he were seeing the scene again. “She was in a hurry and kept worrying she'd be late meeting a friend. She wanted to surprise her for her birthday. She was so happy...”
He shook his head.
“I didn't even have time to scold her for driving there alone. She just laughed, waved her hand, and ran out the door. And I thought I'd see her again that evening.”
“What was her friend's name?”
“Renata. Renata Mitchell.”
The smile slowly faded.
“They studied together, but then Renata moved to Dumpfield. Sarah decided to surprise her for her eighteenth birthday.”
He ran a hand over his knee and fell silent for a moment.
