The Empty Places by Landon Crook

Author:Landon Crook [Crook, Landon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-07T00:00:00+00:00

Sara took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. She stood, unmoving except perhaps a subtle shiver that covered her flesh, and waited for entirely too long, resisting all the while the temptation to rush back to her car and leave Coalbrook. It wouldn’t be a total waste, either; everything that had happened was chock full of paranormal goodness. She could attach all sorts of theories to it, exploring the wildest possibilities to excite the imaginations of those who tune in. It was everything she needed to spin into the creepiest of yarns. And with Kim almost guaranteed to be deceased, it seemed like it was all wrapping up.

So why was she still here?

The podcast can wait, Sara thought. I need to know. If I can. While mysteries kept listeners engaged, she herself was looking for answers. She didn’t come here looking for them, at least certainly not for herself. But now? The same desperation that led her here had changed course. Now, she wanted answers for herself, the kind of answers that bring closure. Now every step forward brought her deeper into the story. Every step forward brought her closest to her greatest fear, and her greatest pain.

She went to ring the doorbell again, but before she did, the weather stripping around the door crackled as the door creaked back into the house. A woman answered, her face sunken and grief-stricken. She clutched the door like a drowning woman would clutch the floating remnants of a shipwreck.

Sara cleared her throat. “Are you Sharon Shaw?” she asked.

“What do you want?” she snapped with as much grit as she could likely muster.

“Hi—my name is Sara Garrison. I am a freelance journalist working on the story of this town, especially as it relates to events that have taken place over the past year or so—”

Sharon sniffed and spoke with a thin, acerbic voice. “And you want to talk to me about my dead daughter?”

“Well, I was hoping—”

“Get off my property.” She disappeared behind the door, leaving Sara standing on the steps.

Sara knocked again almost immediately. A moment passed, and she knocked again. And again. Come on, Sara, this isn’t like you. But the stakes have changed. The door flew open, and Sharon stood red-faced, eyebrows angled down harshly.

“Can’t you see I’m—”

“When my teenage sister disappeared in 2010,” Sara cut in, “we found her clothes, too. I was only twelve.”

Sharon stared at her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she was trembling.

Sara continued. “They were stacked. Neatly folded, piled from outerwear up to her underwear and bra.” Looking into the woman’s eyes, she could see something fall away. Some piece of defensiveness that was already shaky. Sara’s own voice broke, only just. “They never found Andrea. I think about her every day.”

The grieving woman’s lip quivered. She sniffed again, loudly, quickly bringing a tissue to her nose. With a sigh, she stepped back and opened the door. Respectfully, Sara entered. They didn’t get far into the house before Sharon turned, addressing her in the landing of the main entrance.

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