With a sling leather bag across my torso and a denim summer jacket tied up around my waist, I stroll along the sidewalk in the town center. There is something about this place that always gives me a spark of joy every time I set foot in it. Maybe it's the colorful cobblestones on the pavement, those seasonal street decorations, or the hypnotizing store windows that display all kinds of items begging to be bought. Though it's probably a mix of all of those things.

Only, I don't feel the surge of excitement today. To top it all, those prying eyes, which never bothered me before, start to poke my nerves now. I'm darn sure that within a few hours, Gretta's family will find out that their prisoner has escaped to town. Blast them for not minding their own business!

People in town used to be friendlier and more casual around me —I mean, Gretta— back when she still attended high school. Gretta went out more during that time even though all she did was timidly smile and nod at people. Ever since Patricia started to bitch about how her stepdaughter's mental illness required more serious attention, she hasn't been allowed to do things outside the house without chaperones anymore. After that point, people's attitudes changed toward her. Gretta began her homeschooling in the same year.

Blast Patricia and her megalomaniac daughter!

Keeping my head up, I stride ahead to the last block of the town center, where the cobblestone street ends and connects to the small path to the port. The distinctive seaport smell hits my nostrils but I inhale it religiously. For some people, the air around the seaport stinks since it's a mix of salt, lube oil, rotten dead fish, and some illegal dumping. But to me, it smells of life and freedom.

Not that I'm planning our real escape right now —not yet. Gretta isn't ready for this. At the moment, I just need to make sure we won't be taken to a mental hospital and get injected with all kinds of stupid liquid that they'd claim would heal us. Heal us from what? Such idiots.

I walk to the green-painted store on the corner. It has a huge window displaying books and magazines arranged in a golden rack, while an enormous 'Golden Thrills' is crafted on top of it. Once I push its door open, a chiming bell greets me from above my head. The smell of books is so thick in the air that it reminds me of Adelson's library.

"Hello! Welcome to Golden Thrills!" says a woman behind the counter as she glances at me through her oversized glasses. I don't think she's from around here since I've never seen her before. She must be one of those people who takes up a job on this touristy island to get a higher wage than on the mainland. "You're in luck, dear. The new bestseller book just arrived yesterday, as well as the magazines."

"Hi." I crane my neck to look around the bookstore. Only a few kids standing by the comic shelves, young girls in the magazine section, and an old man by the encyclopedia. Mary is nowhere to be seen. "I'm actually looking for someone who is working here. Mary. Mary Campbell. Is she in today?"

"Yes, but she left fifteen minutes ago." The woman frowns as she tilts her head to me, eyes hardened with an unfriendly glint. "Are you, by any chance, the one who rang and wanted to speak with her this morning?"

"I beg your pardon?"

She gasps as she brings her hands to cover her mouth. "Oh. I'm sorry for bluntly asking you that out of nowhere." She shakes her head, prompting her glasses chains to dance against her chubby cheeks. "Where are my manners?"

I slowly walk closer to the counter. "What happened?"

She looks a bit unsure for a second, but then she replies, "Well, someone rang a few times even though Mary had refused to take it. So, I thought maybe the person would be coming here to find Mary herself." The woman waves her hands in a dismissive gesture. "Don't worry about it. She stopped ringing eventually. I hope she will never show up here, or I will need to have a word with her."

"I see." I bite the inner part of my cheek, refraining from asking further.

"Pray tell, are you a friend of Mary's then?"

"Uh, I'm her friend's sister." Noticing that the woman doesn't recognize Gretta, I don't need to pretend to be someone else. "I thought I would pay her a visit while I'm in town."

"Very sweet of you for doing this. I'm not sure how long you are planning to stay in town, but Mary should be here again in the morning."

"Oh. Mary isn't coming back today? I thought she was out just for lunch."

"Oh, no. That poor girl has been distraught the whole morning, and said she needed to leave early due to family matters." The woman peeks at the cashier machine from above her glasses before punching a green button. A shelf springs out of it, and she pushes it in again.

"Oh, okay." My fingers fiddle with my bag strap while my mind is busy making speculations. "I'm, uh, not sure how long I'm staying, but I will stop by if I'm still around tomorrow."

The woman nods a few times. "You do that," she says, glancing at two teenagers standing behind me with fashion mags in their hands.

I scoot aside to give the girls room and walk backward to the door. "Alright. I'd better get going then."

"And shouldn't you drop your name so I can tell Mary that you popped by today?"

"Right. Please tell her Maddison Clark came to visit." With that, I turn around and pull the entrance door open.

There was a lot of information to take and my head is spinning right now. Who was calling Mary? Why didn't Mary want to take the call? Was the person the reason Mary got distraught this morning? Is Mary in some kind of trouble right now? Not that I care as long as it has nothing to do with the information I need to fish out of her.

With a pack of cigarettes in my hand, I walk to the other end of the haven, farther away from the town center. It's always been a good spot to hide from those curious eyes since there are not a lot of ships coming this way. This side of the port is exclusively for private ships and yachts, including Mr. Adelson's. But with the weather like this, people would have departed hours ago if they wanted to sail.

I sit on the bench and smoke my cigarette with an empty tummy. It's bad, yes, but my brain works better when I have a cigar nestled between my lips. It's something Gretta would never approve of, but that's the last thing on my mind at the moment. Time is ticking, and I have to find Mary. That's what matters right now.

I've been contemplating phoning Campbells to see if Mary is home. But if that person calling the store already made her depart, she would probably do the same if I rang her house. Or maybe she is not home at all. Nevertheless, I need to find Mary. She's my only chance to prove that what Gretta saw was real, that Gretta isn't crazy. I need to find the answer before someone from Adelson's residence finds me and drags me home.

Slipping my cigarette pack into my bag, I get up and walk back to the town center, determined to accomplish my mission. I take a deep puff on my cigarette before pressing it against the metal pole and throwing it into the bin. The last thing I want people to see is Gretta walking around the town with a cig in hand.

"Gretta?" a familiar voice from behind me makes me stop abruptly. From all of the people in the world, why would I have to bump into him, right here, right now?