At Last Sight by Julie Johnson

Author:Julie Johnson [Johnson, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Julie Johnson

I drove Georgia’s sporty hatchback station wagon, as she was in no fit state to be behind the wheel. First to The Sea Witch, where we collected a shellshocked Declan from the care of Rhonda, the dour-faced night manager. Then, to the Salem Police Department.

I’d never been to this particular station before, but I’d been in plenty of others in the past. It was a pretty brick building near the center of town, no more than a few minutes’ walk from The Gallows. Twin spotlights lit up the flagpole out front, along with the large round SPD seal — the city’s trademark flying witch — emblazoned proudly on the brick.

Despite the late hour, the station was a hub of activity. Uniformed officers were pouring through the tall glass doors into the dark parking lot, moving quickly to reach their cruisers, heads tilted to listen to radio chatter. I wondered if they were headed out to look for Rory.

I hoped to god they were.

I parked in a spot directly in front of the flag pole. Gigi was out of the car the second I shifted into park. She practically sprinted into the station, too distraught to remember she wasn’t alone. I wasn’t surprised — she was in another world, at the moment. She’d barely said two words to me on the drive. She’d kept her face pressed to the passenger window, staring out at the people on the sidewalks as we passed.

Now that the trick-or-treating was over, the city was shifting into the darker side of Halloween. One designed for adults, not kids. At its core, Salem was a college town. Plenty of twenty-somethings in scanty fishnets and clingy corsets were stalking the streets, looking for a spooky good time. The entry lines to every local bar were wrapped down the block, already at capacity. And the night was young.

The thought of Rory somehow lost in their midst…

A shiver moved through me.

I grabbed Declan’s hand, squeezing tight as I led him inside. He squeezed back, but said nothing. He was normally such a chatterbox. Seeing him like this — so solemn, so shaken — made my stomach twist.

The room was surprisingly full. Several seats along the side wall were occupied by people in costumes, waiting to speak to the receptionist about issues unknown. All of them looked decidedly peeved their fun Halloween plans were ending in a fluorescent lit precinct.

Georgia didn’t take a seat to wait her turn. She marched straight across the drab concrete floor, planted herself in front of the reception desk, and stared at the woman sitting behind the plexiglass partition until she stopped clacking away on her keyboard.

“There’s a line,” the secretary informed her, looking beleaguered. “Please wait your turn, ma’am.”

Georgia didn’t move an inch. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk so hard, her knuckles were white. “I’m Georgia O’Banion. I called earlier. My son— My Rory— He’s missing. I was out searching, but they told me to come in.”

The receptionist went pale and reached immediately for her phone.

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