BooksBarbecue
Back Season of Fear
Chapters (67)
  1. Contents
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART ONETHE EXTREMES
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. PART TWOSOMETHING BAD
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. PART THREECHAYLA
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. PART FOURHIT AND RUN
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. EPILOGUE
  67. AUTHOR’S NOTE

Peach didn’t say anything. All she could think about was that Justin wasn’t here anymore. She could picture his face and hear his voice, but soon the memories would begin to fade. Like Lyle. Like her parents. She was holding on to a fraying lifeline, and eventually it would give way.

Justin on memory. Everybody forgets everybody else. Fame doesn’t buy you anything but a few years.

When she’d paid her bill, Peach picked her way through the crowded tables and made her way outside. She stood near the entrance with the busy traffic on Gandy Road roaring in both directions behind her. This was where she’d been standing in the photograph that Justin had tried to send her. She could picture herself with the silly grin on her face, her thumb jerking toward the door as if she were hitchhiking. It was nothing special, just one moment in the history of all of their moments.

Why would he want to send it to her again? Why on that night?

Justin always had a plan. She dug out her phone and opened the attachment she’d forwarded to herself. With the screen in front of her, she flicked her eyes back and forth between the photo and the funky décor of the Crab Shack. Everything was the same. The neon in the windows. The giant plastic blue crab. The ship’s rope tied between old driftwood. The yellow surfboard. Nothing had changed.

Except – no. That wasn’t true.

The street number of the restaurant was hung on a little sign above the windows: 11400. However, the photo on her phone showed a completely different number: 10761. Justin had edited the photo. It was a skillful job; no one would notice the alteration if they weren’t standing in front of the building. He was sending her a message, but what was he trying to tell her?

Looking at the restaurant, she spotted another tiny change in the photo. Between the words CRAB and SHACK on the roof sign was a little white house that was shaped like an arrow. The house was tilted to the left as she stared at it, but in the picture on her phone, the house – the arrow – pointed right. The actual sign was angled toward an open, empty field beside the restaurant, but the sign in the photo pointed in the opposite direction, toward a side street leading away from Gandy Road.

Suddenly, she could feel Justin guiding her. He wanted her to follow the arrow.