All at once, she struggled to take in her next breath. Whatever it was she was seeing, they were dangerously close to the curve—the same curve on which she’d had the accident.

  She turned the car’s stereo off, using all of her senses to concentrate. A violent bolt of lightning struck nearby, taking her back several decades to the night of Bella’s disappearance. Fear zapped her to her core. For a single heartbeat, everything became exposed beneath its blinding flash. The burst of light lasted long enough to reveal the features of one object—a blonde woman, soaked to the bone…wearing a short pink top.

  Nicole?

  Her heart lurched painfully hard with the buzz of her phone from the passenger’s seat. She glanced down—it was Gwen. The phone nearly slipped from her sweaty palm when she fumbled to answer.

  “Where are you?” Gwen demanded.

  The figures ahead of Mia merged into one again. She pressed her fingers against her closed eyes. The edibles were messing with her head. It was the only explanation. It was no secret she was overly sensitive to the stuff, so she’d always been cautious, and ingested just enough to dull the constant pain.

  When she removed her fingers from her eyelids, the figure and car were both gone.

  Maybe it had all been her imagination.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mia never understood why there wasn’t an official guidebook for parents of teenagers. Why hadn’t all the perfect moms of the world come together and shared their wisdom with those who froze in the face of confrontation? As soon as Gwen passed out in Mia’s bed, Mia snuck outside to call the closest thing to a “perfect mom” in her contact list.

  “She had a miscarriage?” Liz repeated. “Mia, are you serious? She’s only sixteen!”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  Mia swiped a hand over her wary face while watching the rain breach the lake’s surface. After the truth had spilled from her daughter’s lips, she immediately thought of Nicole. Was that the rumor she’d been so eager to share in the parking lot? Did Nicole know Gwen was pregnant? And was that really Nicole she’d seen on the road with someone, or was it merely the combined effect of lingering PTSD from the accident mixed with a psychoactive drug?

  When returning to Pelican’s Pass with Gwen, Mia had driven at a snail’s pace, hoping to find evidence of something that would answer her questions one way or another. If Gwen noticed the way she trembled and shook as she drove, she didn’t mention it. Aside from the torrential downpour, the spot looked otherwise undisturbed.

  Mia had considered calling the sheriff. But what exactly would she report? That she’d gotten a little high, and believed she’d seen the woman she despised duking it out with someone in the pouring rain?

  “Who’s the little prick that knocked her up?” Liz demanded.

  “I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone. She clammed up after she told me what happened. I wasn’t able to get much out of her.”

  “This is all Matt’s fault,” Liz decided, venom dripping from her deep voice. “He’s the worst male role model a teenage girl could possibly have.”

  Mia pictured Liz storming back and forth through her bright, modern kitchen with a fiery red face. She’d earned her masters in psychology, and worked for a time at a juvenile treatment facility. Then she met her husband, Shaun, and stayed home to raise their four children. Liz often hauled her kids down to visit Mia’s family, staying for long stretches of time. She’d become fiercely protective of her pseudo niece and nephew.

  Liz continued her rant. “I knew it wouldn’t be good once Madolyn told everyone Matt was sticking it to their English teacher. That little shit is every bit as conniving as her mother. Poor Gwen is probably sleeping with random guys to prove to herself that she is her father’s daughter like everyone says.”

  “She’s not sleeping with random guys,” Mia assured her, praying she was right. “The only guys she likes hanging out with are her friends, and she doesn’t think any of them are cute.”

  “Like she’d tell her mom otherwise?”

  “Gwen and I are close. You know that.”

  Liz huffed. “I thought the same thing about me and my kids until I learned Preston had met with a recruiter behind my back.”

  “That’s only because he knew you’d analyze his reasoning to death. The poor kid just wanted to serve his country. It’s different with me and Gwen. She knows how much I love keeping secrets from her father.”

  “She still didn’t trust you enough to tell you that she was pregnant,” Liz pointed out.

  The sting of her words seeped into Mia’s heart. She was right. What else was going on in her daughter’s life that she didn’t know about? Gwen was only sixteen. Still a child.

  Liz released a heavy breath. “I’m sorry, Mia. That was a shitty thing to say.”

  “I get it. I’m upset too.” She covered her face with her free hand. “What am I going to do, Liz?”

  “I truly think it’s time for her to see a therapist, Mia. In the meantime, go back to bed. Call me tomorrow. We’ll talk some more after you’ve had some sleep.”

  Ending the call, Mia slipped back inside and climbed into her king bed next to Gwen. It had seemed frivolous to purchase something so excessively large for one person, but Liz had insisted anything else beneath the arched windows in the spacious bedroom would’ve looked ridiculously small. As Mia wrapped her arm around her daughter, curled into a tight ball to ease her back pain, she was grateful for the extra space.

  Gwen was still sound asleep when Mia rose with the break of sunlight into the bedroom. Her daughter had relaxed in the night, stretching her lean torso and long limbs over the opposite side of the bed. When her eyes were closed, she looked more like Mia than Bella—same narrow bone structure, same strong eyebrows, hair a mere shade apart and almost the same elbow length. Whenever her dazzling, emerald green eyes were open, all Mia could see was Gwen’s bastard of a father.

  Pain spread through her chest when she tried to imagine Gwen at the clinic. Had she been all alone except for the nurses and doctor? Did she cry for her mom? Would Mia’s grandchild have looked anything like her or Bella?

  Gwen had been on birth control pills for two years to regulate her periods. Had she forgotten to take them? Did they not use a condom, or did it simply break? And who did she sleep with? Had the smooth little shit told her that he loved her?

  Becoming pregnant at a young age had never been something Mia personally had to face. She’d remained a virgin until shortly after moving to New York. And if she’d ever slept with Ben like she’d wanted, she would’ve dealt with the consequences. Becoming pregnant with Gavin and Gwen had been the happiest of accidents during a dark period of her life. Even if she’d never truly loved Matt anything close to the way she’d loved Ben, her children had given her something she’d long ago lost: a family.

  With her insides twisted into unyielding knots, Mia crept out into the kitchen to bake muffins from scratch, then a batch of monster cookies for later. Gigi had raised her to use food for comfort. It was one of the reasons Mia had struggled with her weight once she first learned of Matt’s extramarital affairs. It was also the only thing she could think of to keep her mind occupied so she wouldn’t replay the events of the night before—the objects in the road…“Nicole’s” rain-soaked shirt… the car careened off the edge of the cliff…Bella’s skull crashed into her pelvis…

  “Morning,” Gwen’s deep, raspy voice broke the silence. “Do I smell cinnamon muffins?”

  Mia's heart raced. Don’t act dramatic, she told herself while smoothing her fingers over her disk necklace. “They’re fresh out of the oven,” she said, turning to her daughter with a light smile. She felt a rush of relief in seeing the pink towel wrapped over Gwen’s hair, and the fresh pair of shorts she wore with a t-shirt from one of the last concerts they’d attended together. It seemed she was already feeling better. “Want me to put on a pot of coffee?”

  Gwen climbed onto one of the stools beneath the walnut island, and hugged one knobby knee against her chest. “That’d be great.” She sounded…normal. How was that possible when Mia was struggling to keep it together?

  She threw a couple of warm muffins onto a plate and slid them across the island to Gwen before tending to the coffee maker. The temptation to add a shot or two of cinnamon whiskey to her mug itched down her core. How did one act around their child after an immensely traumatic event? Was she expected to proceed with caution and treat Gwen like she was fragile, or pretend like nothing had happened? Why hadn’t she asked for Liz’s advice on what to do next?

  She busied herself, waiting until the coffee was ready before turning back to Gwen. “Wanna spend the afternoon watching eighties movies?” she asked, setting the oversized blue mug by her plate. “I’ve been hankering for a John Hughes marathon.”

  “Maybe later.” There were small nibble marks on one muffin, and the other remained untouched. Gwen swiped the cup of coffee off the counter, blowing over the top. “I’m going to lay down for a while.”

  Mia bit her lip, debating if it would be okay to ask how she was feeling. “Do you want some Ibuprofen?”

  “I took some before my shower,” she said with a small shake of her head. “I’ll be fine, Mom. You’re the one I worry about. You seem…a little off. More than usual. Everything okay?”

  “It’s just my back,” Mia replied, keeping her voice soft. “I’m used to it by now.”

  Gwen offered a sad little smile before she retreated back to her room.

  Several hours later, Gwen’s door still remained closed. Was she sleeping, or merely hiding her pain and misery? Mia sent her a text to see if she needed anything, but the message remained unread ten minutes later. She then sent another text, letting Gwen know she was running to the grocery store, and asked if she wanted anything. Even though she didn’t answer, Mia had already planned to grab a gallon of Gwen’s favorite mint chip ice cream. Mia needed something much stronger than ice cream.

  Before Bella’s abduction, she’d adored everything about the intensity of Lake Shetek thunderstorms. The excitement of the rumbling thunder, and bright flashes of light. Wondering what would come out of the strong winds, whether it be hail or funnel clouds. The way the sky could open in the middle of the day, and become as pitch dark as night.

  But she was thankful to discover the storm had stopped sometime after she’d fallen asleep in the night, leaving behind the fresh scent of earth and exuberant green grass. She drove under the speed limit, carefully dodging lake-sized puddles in the dozen or so potholes between her cottage and Slayton.

  She took the long way, purposely going through Pelican’s Pass. The feeling that she may have actually seen something significant the night before had been niggling at her conscience all morning. With the sight of the guardrail, her pulse raced and her teeth clenched. Against every instinct in her body, she pulled over to the side of the road. She flicked the hazard lights on before stepping out onto the asphalt with her camera slung over her shoulder.

  Fingering the necklace from her children, she attempted to keep her breathing under control as she inched her way toward the improved steel guardrail they’d installed after the accident. She’d been terrified of heights since birth, and she was approaching the exact spot where she once thought she’d taken her last breath.

  She took several pictures of the site, noting the gravel covering the shoulder appeared undisturbed. No scuffle marks or footprints in the soft dirt either. She gripped the cold metal with one hand and closed her eyes before slightly bending over. It was the first time she’d dared to look at the path that could’ve led to her demise. Large rocks lined the cliff all the way down to a short embankment beside the water. She swallowed the massive lump in her throat, and snapped several pictures from different angles.

  If something really had happened to Nicole there, wouldn’t there have been a body down below? Even on the stormiest of nights, the waves never covered that small stretch of land.

  Behind her, a car blared its horn. With a start, she shrieked and jolted forward, barely managing to brace herself and grasp her camera before one or both tumbled over the edge. Pulse hammering, she pushed herself back.

  Bending over, she vomited.

  Two entire days passed before Gwen began to act like herself again. Liz counseled Mia through those forty-eight hours, reminding her that Gwen needed time to process the trauma to her body. Gwen was normally so chatty with a slightly warped sense of humor that her silence had been downright painful to endure.

  On the third day, Gwen entertained Mia’s request for a movie marathon, gathering popcorn, soda, and a cocktail for Mia before propping a wall of pillows against the wall behind her bed. It was their favorite mother/daughter tradition—one in which they bonded over the art of film and gossip over their favorite celebrities.

  During the underwear scene in Sixteen Candles, Gwen spun around to face Mia, tucking her legs underneath her. “Oh my god, I almost forgot to ask you something!” The sudden burst of excitement lighting her face warmed Mia’s heart. So far she wasn’t exhibiting the signs of PTSD Liz had warned about. Maybe Gwen would make it through the ordeal mentally unscathed. “Did you hear they think Madolyn’s mom ran away? Like, she just up and left without telling anyone.”

  Vodka and passionfruit blazed back up Mia’s throat. She gulped hard, sputtering. “What?”

  “Heidi said she heard Nicole’s having an affair with some doctor dude from Minneapolis, and they ran off together. Of course Madolyn’s dad is denying it’s true.” Gwen’s grin grew. “Either way, she’s been missing for days.”

  The room spun.

  Nicole was missing

  With a trembling hand, Mia turned to set her cocktail on the nightstand beside her. It slipped off the edge and exploded on the hardwood floor, sending shards of glass flying everywhere.

  “Mom!” Gwen grabbed her arm. “Are you okay?”

  “You should know better than to gossip about affairs,” Mia scolded, touching her forehead. It felt as if she’d been launched into a dream. Or more accurately, a nightmare.

  With a pout, Gwen rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s karma paying Madolyn a visit.”

  “Don’t move. I’ll clean this up,” Mia ordered, scooting toward the end of the bed with her phone in hand. She closed the door to her bedroom and leaned back against it. Violent thuds of her heart shook her entire body.

  Nicole was missing

  Did it mean what she thought she saw the other night really went down? Her thumb hovered over her phone’s screen, preparing to dial 9-1-1. When they’d ask what was her emergency, how would she respond? Was it still considered an emergency if it’d happened three days prior? They would demand to know why she hadn’t reported something sooner.

  She padded across the kitchen floor, deciding she’d report directly to someone at the sheriff’s station. It would probably seem less suspicious if she told them face-to-face, and explained the conditions of the violent storm made her question what she’d seen that night.

  As she reached for her key fob, she belatedly remembered Farah Hanson walking by as she’d argued with Nicole. What exactly had Farah been privy to? Did she hear Mia threaten Nicole with her life? Did she see the wild look in Mia’s eyes when she’d contemplated strangling Nicole with her bare hands?

  Before jumping to any conclusions, she could talk to Tom and see what he knew. She could play the scorned wife of a cheater card, and tell him she knew the feeling of being betrayed, although she doubted her ex-husband’s best friend would welcome her with open arms. They’d hated each other as teenagers, and they’d never warmed with time. The idea of confronting him churned in her stomach. If everything was okay, Nicole would likely spread a rumor that Mia had stopped by to hit on her husband.

  She rushed over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a shot of cinnamon whiskey, wolfing it down in one swallow. The warm glow that filled her stomach centered her. It was imperative to keep her shit together before Gwen suspected something. Her daughter had enough on her plate. Besides, Mia wouldn’t have known what to tell her any more than she knew what she’d tell the sheriff.

  Chill the hell out, Mia. Let the situation unfold out on its own.

  For all she knew, Nicole really did run away with some doctor, and she was making wild assumptions.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  News of Nicole’s disappearance circulated through social media late the following morning. Over 200 people had shared Tom’s post saying he’d filed a missing persons report with the sheriff’s office the night before, and he asked anyone who may know something about his wife’s whereabouts to come forward.

  Mia was grateful Gwen felt well enough to waitress at the resort over the lunch shift, and wasn’t around to witness her mother vomiting every twenty minutes. Mid-afternoon, Mia became restless and decided to go for a drive with the convertible’s top down to clear her head. Within twenty minutes, she was driving toward the Tribeau residence. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but one she immediately regretted once their 3-story home with irregularly shaped windows, bold geometric shapes, and asymmetrical façades came into view.

  Luxury cars lined both sides of the narrow street on Keeley Island for several blocks in either direction. The whole damn community had come to support Tom. So much for casually prodding him about his wife’s disappearance.

  Parking, she watched the scene play out from a safe distance. The majority of visitors who entered and left the residence were middle-aged women, many with pans or bowls in hand. They were probably claiming to show their support as Nicole’s friend, but Mia suspected some had hidden agendas as Tom was considered handsome, rich, and maintained a reputation similar to her ex-husbands. The two men had remained close friends since high school, with a standing weekly night out that’d begun shortly after Matt and Mia had married.