Page 33 of Everyone Loved Her
Garrett watched his father climb into his department issued truck, which he hadn’t heard pull up. He leaned back against the seat as it pulled away, and then closed his eyes.What did I do after Beth left?He couldn’t remember anything other than waking up in his bed at home—which is not where he would’ve chosen to go on his own. Healwaysslept in his truck in order to avoid driving drunk.
And that left him with a sick feeling in his gut.
He would never hurt Sarah. He’d never intentionally hurtanyone,but Sarah had become a friend, or at least an ally. Ever since he had helped her out with a repair bill she couldn’tafford, she had repaid the favor by not shunning him like the rest of the town had.
Garrett put the truck in drive and headed out of the parking lot, noting that the blue truck he’d noticed idling was no longer there. He took a left and headed toward Hollow Creek Bridge. The drive took him three miles north of town, and then a hard right off the highway. It wasn’t a well-used road, grass growing through the white dusty gravel.
He shouldn’t be going to the murder scene, but also… He couldn’t help himself, especially with the strange sense of dread he felt. He’d been at that point plenty of times—though for other reasons. The truck bounced across braking bumps, and he slowed as he took the last winding curve to the old, dilapidated wooden bridge with iron railing. He parked the truck off to the right side of the road, partially in the ditch, and then put it park.
He hadn’t laid eyes on the bridge in years, and the sore spot it held left him hesitant to climb out at first. But he brushed it off and slung his door open anyway. He slid out, eyeing the mostly dormant, knee-height grass in the ditches. The county clearly didn’t bother to maintain this area, more than likely because there were no longer any houses left on the winding, mostly wooded road.
His boots crunched across rock as he made the rest of the walk to the bridge. When he got to the edge, where gravel transitioned to old, hardened wood, he paused, as if the whole thing might collapse if he put any of his two-hundred-twenty-pound self on it. He was tall, standing at six-feet-four, and had always been built more like a linebacker than a quarterback.
The comparison made him think of Sam, whowasthe quarterback type.
You’d hate how I turned out,he thought to himself, as if Samwas still bothering to listen in on his life. By this point, he was sure his old best friend was rolling in his grave—or maybe just sitting up there with the Big Man and wishing he could ring Garrett’s neck.
‘You’ve been seeing my sister! I’m gonna kill you.’Garrett winced at the memory, one of the last ones he had of Sam, unfortunately. He still couldn’t shake the shrill of fury in Sam’s voice. Never mind the horror on Beth’s face when it all went down. He should’ve listened to her, told him the truth before Sam got drunk.
Garrett swallowed the bile rising in the back of his throat, and then went ahead and took the step onto the bridge. He had no clue which side Sarah’s body had been found on, but regardless it was about a twenty-to-thirty-foot drop to a shallow creek below. He made his way to the railing on the left side, and then peered down.
Everything there looked untouched, and as he stared into the stagnant water, he frowned.Who would even think about this area?Not many knew about the desolate bridge, even those who’d been in the town all their lives. It led to a dead end, butting up to the far end of the Young ranch.
Which is exactlywhythis area had become ground zero for him and Beth.
He shook his head and walked to the other side, following the same suit. And just like the other, there was no signs of a body having ever been there. In fact, other than areas before the bridge where the grass had been laid down by assumed responders, there was no other signs of anything having happened.
I guess they cleaned it up good.He glanced around the wooded area, the canopy of overhanging trees casting an everlasting deep shade. Garrett, mulling over the crime, thuddedacross the bridge to the other side of the road—the one that dead ended less than a quarter mile up ahead.
As he glanced around, he caught sight of something shimmering, just off at the edge of the trees across the road, where sun had cast a lowlight. He zoned out on it for a few moments, squinting and assuming someone had littered, some piece of plastic or something. But curiosity got the best of him, and he crossed the ditch to where the side of the road met a property line.
And then he froze.
A cell phone.
Chapter 16
“A woman was found shotto death beneath a rural bridge just off County Road 880. The body has been identified as thirty-three-year-old Sarah Armitage of Rustdale, Texas. Blaine County Sheriff’s Office is not releasing any other information as the investigation is ongoing. If you have any information on what happened to Sarah, please call the Sheriff’s department. We’ve listed their contact information on the screen.”
I stared at the television; Sarah’s face plastered across the screen for a few seconds longer. The news then switched to an arial shot of the crime scene after the fact, showing the old wooden bridge, the only crossing point over Hollow Creek. Nausea rolled over me as the camera zoomed down to the creek bed full of unmoving water. The anchor’s voice signifiedthatwas where she had been found. I shuddered at the thought of her body being left there—the audacity to just leave her like that.
Well, and then theothermemories that went with that stupid bridge. I looked away from the TV, my eyes finding my hands folded in my lap. Garrett used to send a textto me, asking me to meet him at the fence, where the road dead ended. I’d ride Jett all the way there, cross the fence, and sit forhourswith him, throwing rocks into the water below.
“It’s just horrible,” Mom said, her voice quiet but enough to break my thoughts. “They’re having the funeral service tomorrow at the church for her... I offered to make a casserole.”
I nodded, though I fought the urge to combat my mother’s need to supply food—like she wasn’t still in need of help herself. However, I decided to avoid it. “It feels so surreal that I literallyjustsaw her,” I remarked instead, which was the truth. But before I could add to it, the sound of the side door opening caught my attention, and I looked over to my mom in her recliner. “Who is that?”
Mom’s eyes never left the television, her voice flat. “Just Blaze. He’s the only other one that has a key to the house.”
“Right,” I muttered, just as he stepped into the meager ranch-style living room.
“Hey, Mrs. Young,” he greeted my mom with a tip of his hat before turning to me. “Beth, I need to speak with you.”
I raised my eyebrows, unamused. “Why?”
His eyes bored into mine, unwavering and hard. “Apparently, there was anincidentoutside of Greg Martin’s law office today.”
My heart jumped.Uh oh.