We sit by the river. Hanging our legs over the edge, drifting our feet in the water. It must be cold, but I barely feel it. Only a cool, tickling sensation. Sam’s running his fingertips over the top my hand, tracing the outline of my fingers. He flips my hand over and rubs his thumb in circles on my palm, and I make an appreciative “Mm” noise and lean my head against his shoulder. Allowing my eyes to droop shut, I breathe the fresh forest air in deeply, savoring the silence. When I open my eyes again, Sam is staring down at me, concern etched on his face.

            “The shadows are deeper.” He traces one finger along my jaw. “You’re still letting him change you.”

            “It won’t happen,” I murmur. “Not as long as I keep visiting you. You make me feel peaceful again.”

            “That can be permanent,” Sam says gently. He stares down at me, and the moonlight paints his features in silver and charcoal, making his face look both sharp and soft. He is both, to me. He’s like a rock, someone I can talk to about my fears. He’s sensitive and warm and loving. Again, I feel like I’m being torn in half.

            “I think Nakia might go to the police,” I say quietly, and Sam raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. “She was talking about it today. She talks to me now, you know. She knows I’m there. I think she knows I only want to help her. She was telling me she wants to go tell the police what happened. I think…I hope, she’ll eventually work up the courage.”

            “Maybe she’ll do it eventually,” Sam says eagerly. “We can just cross over and not worry about it. You could go with me now.”

            I shake my head, feeling guilty when his face falls. “No, I can’t. I need to make sure that it’s happened. I can’t just cross over and wonder what I left behind. And if she does tell them I need to make sure she’s safe afterwards…” A thought strikes me. “Wait, can we see stuff from the other side? I always pictured people in heaven…sorta, well…looking down on people. On the world. I guess I expected everyone would be dancing around on clouds up there.” It sounds ridiculous as soon as I say it, and I feel my cheeks flush a little.

            Sam hesitates. “I actually don’t know what it’s like. I just know I’m supposed to cross over. Soon.”

            “How do you know?” I say curiously. “Did someone call you…like, God or something?”

            “No.” Sam frowns, shaking his head. “This will sound totally vague. It’s just…a calling. I can feel it in my gut all the time now. It’s only gotten stronger over the years. It’s persistent. That’s all I know. I don’t know anything about the other side.”

            “So if we went, right now…what would happen?” Hastily I add, “I mean, just out of curiosity. Do we have to go somewhere, walk a certain way? Say the magic words and click our heels together? How does it work?”

            Sam shrugs helplessly. “I just…would give in to the feeling I guess. I’ve been resisting it for years now. It wouldn’t be hard.”

            A terrible thought occurs. “Does it….hurt? Holding it back, I mean.”

            “No, it’s just…frustrating.”

            I fight with myself for a second before saying, “Why don’t you just go without me? I’ll meet you in whatever place we end up.” Sam is quiet for a minute, and my stomach plummets in fear. What if he says yes? It’s terribly selfish, but I don’t want him to leave me here. I don’t know anything about crossing over to the other side. Without him here there’s nothing to stop me from accidently tethering myself to Caleb, or something equally awful.

But Sam is shaking his head slowly. “No. Like I said, I don’t know what lies on the other side. I’m not risking losing you. I might cross over and become lost. I might never find you when you finally crossed over. You might tether yourself to him and I’d lose you forever. I just…can’t.” He looked like he was out of breath after all that, and I squeezed his hand tightly, relief unraveling the hard little knot of fear in my chest. “I’m glad you said that,” I say, slightly guilty. “I’m a terrible person. But…I’m really glad you’re here with me.”

            Sam dips his head down, and his lips brush mine, longer this time, and a delicious shiver courses through me. He pulls away. “You know, Bree, I only got to see you sometimes, when you got older. But I would see you cross through the woods a lot, walking to her house. I can’t tell you how many times I’d watch you walk through the woods, and feel like my heart was going to burst.” He blushes a little. “I know that sounds melodramatic, but it was like loving someone who doesn’t know you exist…” He pauses and corrects himself. “Actually, it was exactly that. I remember when you and your friend would walk from her house to yours, and I would get to see you laughing and joking with her. It was like your laughter filled the woods up. There was nothing on earth that sounded more beautiful to me.” Sam slides an arm around me, and I lay my head on his shoulder again, savoring his warmth. He begins to stroke my hair, and I shut my eyes in pleasure. “I can’t tell you how happy I am now,” he murmurs, his mouth close to my ear. “I’ll wait a million years longer for you, if I have to.”

            “I hope it doesn’t take that long.”

            My murder case is not going well. At least, that’s what I get from the expression of Officer Love, who is currently perched on the edge of my parents sofa, looking antsy and uncomfortable. Beside him, Officer Holt is scribbling in her notepad. From where I'm standing – looking over both their shoulders – it looks like nothing more then a bunch of childish scribbles. Longhand, I guess.

            Mom is silently crying again, holding Dad’s hand so tightly that he looks slightly pained. Officer Love clears his throat. “So, I hear you two are planning a trip to Toronto this coming weekend?”

            Dad nods. “We want to try to help in some way. I just don’t think we’re able to do anything from here.”

            Officer Love nods, but Holt looks at them both with narrowed eyes. “They probably have it all covered over there.”

            “Doesn’t matter,” Mom says, “We’re going. We’ll do whatever we have to do.”

            Officer Holt hesitates. “ Has it occurred to you that maybe your daughter doesn’t want to be found?”

            “No,” Dad says sharply, “it has not. Breanne would never do something like this to us. She knows we’d be worried sick if she did, and she wouldn’t want that.”

            Officer Holt blows out a breath and looks down at her pad and pencil, like she’s heard it a million times and my parents are clearly in denial. I feel like reaching out and yanking on the stupid bun she wears her hair in. Would she get the picture then? I’m dead. Not off somewhere frolicking in Toronto. Officer Love frowns at her, turning back to my parents he says, “Now, you said something about her boyfriend visiting you the other day?”

            “Yes,” Dad leans forward eagerly. “He did, it was very strange. Two days ago he just shows up here and starts asking about Breanne.”

            “What did he ask?” Officer Love says, clearly excited by this.

            “Asked if we’d had any new developments in the case,” Dad says, “and I told him about the Toronto thing, and he seemed excited.”

            “Because it probably means his girlfriend is there.” Officer Holt actually looks bored, and the desire to punch her in the side of the head is almost overwhelming.

            “Or he’s excited he’s off the hook,” growls Love. “What else did he ask? How did he behave?”

            Dad thinks for a moment. “I…he seemed normal at first. Just asked about the case…and then he got weird.”

            “Weird how?”

            “He…turned white and acted all freaked out.” Dad says, and Mom adds, “He asked me if we had the TV on in the next room. When I told him we didn’t, he reacted…I don’t know, crazy. He said he left the oven on and ran out of the room.”

            “I doubt that boy even cooks,” Dad says furiously, as if this is the ultimate proof that Caleb is guilty.

            At this point, even Officer Holt is looking more interested. Love’s eyes are shining, and he sits up straight on the couch. “There is definitely something off about him,” he says in a low voice, “I knew there was. Kid is probably on drugs.”

            Holt shoots him a look, clearly telling him silently to keep his opinion to himself and act professional in front of the civilians. He clears his throat. “Thank you for your time. We’ll be keeping in touch.”

            “Are you going to investigate that boy further?” Dad says anxiously.

            “He’s first on my list,” Officer Love says, and my grin nearly matches the one on my Dad’s face. “Good, thank you so much.”

            Mom and Dad walk the police to the door. Instead of lingering with them, as I usually would, I follow Love and Holt outside and down the driveway.

            Officer Holt is saying in a low, fierce voice “That was not professional, Greg. You don’t know that boy is guilty. For pete’s sake, the kid lives right next door. The father could just walk over there if he gets mad enough! We could have another crime on our hands if you’re not careful. I’ve seen it happen!”

            “That boy is dirty as dishwater,” Love shoots back at her, “and you know it.”

            “So he’s an arrogant little shit and a drug user to boot, so what? Doesn’t mean he did anything to her. Doesn’t mean anything, other then his mommy and daddy didn’t raise him right. My money is on her real dad. She probably ran away to live with him and doesn’t want to be found. The guys in Toronto can’t find someone who makes herself scarce. It was a woman in the survelliance.”

      "It wasn't her," Officer Love snaps. 

     "It's impossible to tell in the footage because of that stupid hat. Obviously she doesn't want to be found."

They’re nearly at the end of the driveway, and suddenly I can feel a tugging in my stomach, something drawing me away from them. The farther I get away from the house the more insistent the tugging is, until it almost hurts and it’s hard to breath. Frustrated, I look over my shoulder at my house. Sam’s voice floats through my head, talking about tethers. Clearly I’ve reached the end of mine.

            “Fine, we’ll interview the girl again,” Holt says thoughtfully. “I think she’s the weak link. If they know something, I think she’ll be the one that spills her guts.”

            “We just have to keep her away from him,” Love says, “I think she’s probably scared of him. She was as quiet as a mouse in the last interview.”

            They’re climbing into their car now. I’m still trying to listen, straining against the tether, my eyes watering at the pain. I can hardly breath. It feels like there’s an iron cord cutting into my stomach, pushing the wind out of me. Fuzzy dots of light creep around the corners of my vision and the surface of the driveway suddenly flies up at me. No, I’m on my hands and knees, gasping. Doors slam, the engine starts beside me, hot and loud right next to my ear.

            I force myself to put one hand in front of the other, dragging myself back down the driveway. Slowly the cord around my middle loosens; the pain grows dimmer, then subsides all together. I sit in the middle of the driveway panting. A solitary figure in the fading light, knees pulled up to my chest, like I’m trying to shield myself.

So, they’re going to go back and re-interview Nakia. Good. That’s good, right? Maybe she’ll tell them. Maybe she’ll finally admit what happened and they’ll arrest Caleb, and my parents will finally know everything that happened and stop hoping that I’ll show up someday. Give up the false hope.

            Or maybe Caleb will decide that Nakia is the weak link, like the officer said. Maybe he’ll get to her before the police do. Maybe he’ll let Larry kill her to hide his secret. No one will ever know how I died, and I’ll be stuck here forever.

More to come! Please vote and comment if you'd like to see the next chapter ! :)