THE TOWN WHERE ETHAN COLE WASN’T A STRANGER
Chapter 6
Ethan didn’t call the police.
Not yet.
He locked the front door.
Then the back.
He gave Lily his phone.
“If you need me, call.”
“Where are you going?”
“Next door.”
She looked frightened.
“Don’t.”
Ethan stopped.
“Why?”
“My mom said not to go there.”
“Why?”
Lily shook her head.
“She said bad people live there.”
Ethan looked toward the window.
“How long?”
“Since before we moved here.”
“How do you know?”
“My mom told me.”
Ethan nodded.
“Stay here.”
He stepped outside.
Rain soaked his jacket immediately.
The house next door was dark again.
Ethan crossed the yard.
The front door was unlocked.
He pushed it open.
Dust.
Cold.
The smell of damp wood.
His flashlight moved across the room.
Old furniture.
A broken television.
A staircase.
He stepped inside.
The door closed behind him.
He heard something upstairs.
Ethan looked up.
A floorboard creaked.
He climbed.
At the end of the hallway was a bedroom.
The door was open.
Inside was a desk.
A chair.
A lamp.
And dozens of photographs.
Ethan picked one up.
Anna.
Standing beside a fishing boat.
Another.
Anna with Lily.
Another.
Anna talking to a man Ethan didn’t know.
He turned the photograph over.
A date.
Two weeks earlier.
Someone had been watching her.
Ethan looked at the desk.
There was an envelope.
His name was written on it.
ETHAN COLE
His pulse slowed.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
A man standing beside a boat.
Ethan recognized the boat.
It belonged to Walter Hayes.
The photograph had been taken that morning.
On the back:
ASK WALTER WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BLACK TIDE.
Ethan stared at the words.
Then he heard a sound downstairs.
A door closing.
He turned off the flashlight.
Footsteps.
Someone was inside the house.
Ethan moved silently toward the hallway.
The footsteps stopped.
Then a voice came from below.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Ethan didn’t answer.
The man climbed the stairs.
Ethan waited.
One step.
Two.
Three.
The figure appeared.
Ethan struck the flashlight against his wrist.
The man fell backward.
Ethan grabbed his jacket.
“Where’s Anna?”
The man struggled.
“I don’t know.”
“Who are you?”
“Let go.”
“Where is she?”
The man looked at him.
Then smiled.
“You’re Thomas Cole’s son.”
Ethan froze.
The man shoved him.
Ethan hit the wall.
By the time he recovered, the man was gone.
Ethan ran downstairs.
The front door slammed.
He reached the porch.
Nothing.
Only rain.
On the ground was a small metal tag.
A boat registration number.
BLACK TIDE.
