Page 77 of A Sea of Unspoken Things
There was still no evidence to confirm that Johnny and Autumn had had an inappropriate relationship, and until there was, I was inclined to believe Ben Cross. Both he and Rhett could attest to the fact that Autumn had left Johnny’s place that night, but the more the thread of the story was pulled, the more it unraveled. People compared notes to try and add to the narrative—that maybe Johnny had gone and found Autumn after Ben left her that night. Or that the day he’d gone to the gorge was the act of a murderer revisiting the scene of his own crime. There were some who even believed the backpack had been a kind of trophy. The thought made my stomach turn.
An enormous part of me wished I could go back in time to that darkroom when I first arrived in Six Rivers and forget the little pink blot on the negative. If I’d never enlarged the photo, no one would be looking so closely at Johnny’s life. But that would also mean that Autumn’s disappearance would remain erased from time. She didn’t deserve that.
I glanced up the street again, hoping to see a car on the road. The drive from San Francisco was more than six hours, and the courier was supposed to arrive more than twenty minutes ago. I pulled out my phone, compulsively finding Autumn’s Instagram profile while I waited, which I did several times a day now. Scrolling through her dormant feed had become a kind of self-soothing habit, one I wasn’t ready to look at too closely.
The picture in the grid from the day before she was supposed to leave Six Rivers was still at the top, and it had been taken on this very street. It was posted the day she’d gone to the end-of-summer party,the day she’d gone to Johnny’s house with Ben. It was the last day she was seen by another soul.
I read the caption for the hundredth time.
Last party in Six Rivers. At dawn, we ride.
That was how it should have been. She should have had her entire life ahead of her, a sea of possibilities with no end. From what I could tell, that’s what Johnny had wanted for her, too.
The comments on the post had multiplied many times over since I’d first seen it. In the days since they’d announced Autumn was missing and the posters went up around town, it seemed everyone had come out of the woodwork to leave messages for Autumn. The few that had been there from the beginning were still at the top.
My phone buzzed and a message from Olivia came up on the screen, covering the photo.
Saw that Johnny’s things are still in the darkroom. They’re in his cubby if you want to come by.
I’d totally forgotten about the folder she’d left for me. The sentence was punctuated with a glasses-wearing emoji, and I smiled. Olivia had been one of the few people in Six Rivers who didn’t seem hell-bent on casting Johnny as a villain, and I felt more guilty than ever for ghosting her after I left. It turns out, she was one of the only real friends we had in this town.
The soft squeal of brakes made me look up just as a shining black sedan made it to Main Street. It couldn’t be more out of place, with its glossy paint, tinted windows, and jaguar mount on the hood. It slowed, coming to a stop along the curb, but when the door opened, it wasn’t a courier. It was Quinn.
“James!” My name bent with the British accent.
I looked from him to the driver, unable to hide the confusion onmy face. Quinn was the last person I expected to get out of the car, and maybe the last person I wanted to see right now. Six Rivers was crawling with gossip that might not bode well for the pile of research cradled in my arms, not to mention my brother’s reputation. In a place like San Francisco, that kind of association mattered.
“What are you doing here?” I gave Quinn a tight smile, my voice giving way to nerves, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Decided I’d feel best collecting Johnny’s work myself.”
He leaned forward, kissing my cheek, and I immediately glanced up the sidewalk for anyone who might be watching. I was stiff as he hugged me, my arms still wrapped tightly around the parcel.
“Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you. Check in and make sure you’re doing okay?” he said, more tenderly.
His brown eyes moved over my face, like he was taking stock. Trying to ascertain whether I was really all right. Quinn had a seriousness to him, but that gentle look made him even more handsome.
“That’s really sweet. Thanks, Quinn.”
“I know I’ve just pushed in a bit, but have you got time for a coffee?” he asked, hopeful.
“Sure.”
His smile widened before he exhaled, clearly relieved. “Great. Where to?”
I licked my lips, eyes going to the diner’s painted windows across the street. In the city, there was a coffee shop, tea shop, café, or bistro on every corner. “It’s kind of a small town. Not really a lot of options.”
“I’m not picky.” He closed the car door, signaling to the driver. “Lead the way.”
I forced myself to mirror his smile, and again, I scanned the cars parked along the street. The sidewalk. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized who I was looking for—Micah. There wasn’t any sign of his truck, but he was in town today.
I hadn’t answered him when he asked me not to go back to San Francisco, and when I’d woken in his bed this morning, he was alreadygone. The words had caught me so off guard that my head was still spinning with the idea. And now my life outside of Six Rivers had suddenly shown up, chasing after me.
We started walking and Quinn took in the view of Main Street, eyes full of wonder. “Gorgeous country, isn’t it?” he mused. “Can’t believe you grew up here.”
“Yeah, it is.”
I studied the forest in the distance, trying to see it from his perspective. The picturesque town was like a painting against the unruly beauty of the forest. On the surface, it seemed like such a perfect place. A refuge from the chaos of the world. And maybe it was once, before the trees were scooped out to build a town for people to live. Before this place had been touched by humanity. Now, where there were people, there was pain. Even in a place like this.