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THE GIRL BY THE RIVER

Part One The morning the girl disappeared, Willowbend was quiet in a way that made people notice the sound of their own breathing. The town sat along a narrow river that moved like a slow whisper through the trees. People liked to believe nothing bad ever happened there, even though they all carried secrets that clung to them like damp clothing. Detective Mara Ellison arrived at the police station before sunrise. She had worked in larger cities for years but returned home after her mother fell ill. Willowbend was supposed to be a temporary stop, but the quiet had a way of tightening around her until she no longer fought it. She poured herself a cup of bitter station coffee. Before she could take a sip, Officer Tom Briggs rushed in with a pale look on his face. He had only been on the force for a year, and every time something unusual happened, he looked like he was about to drop the paperwork. “Detective Ellison. We got a call. A girl is missing.” Mara set the cup down. “How ol...
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The Blue Door on Winston Street

Winston Street was the kind of place where nothing surprising ever seemed to happen. The houses sat in neat rows, the mailboxes were rusted in the same familiar way, and the old bakery on the corner opened each morning at six. Most of the residents liked it that way. Predictability made the world feel small and safe. Marian Price especially cherished that quiet rhythm. At sixty years old she had grown used to her routines. She woke at five, watered the potted lilies by her window, and checked the crossword in the newspaper before walking to her job at the public library. Every day followed the same pattern, steady and peaceful. She enjoyed the stillness because it kept her thoughts from wandering into parts of her past she preferred not to revisit. Her home sat at the far end of Winston Street with a picket fence she had painted herself. She knew every neighbor by name, except for the resident of the house with the blue door . The blue door belonged to the only house on the street ...
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The Silence Between Us: (Part One)

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The storm had rolled in from the coast, heavy clouds pressing low against the rooftops, when Evelyn Carrington decided to climb into the attic. The house felt too hollow without the hum of her late husband’s presence, too vast for one woman and her sighs. She had avoided the attic for years, afraid of what memories might wait in the dust, but the rain tapping against the windows gave her no excuse to delay. The ladder protested beneath her weight as she pulled herself upward into the half-dark. The air was thick with the scent of cedar and mildew, and draped furniture crouched like forgotten monuments. She ran her hand across an old trunk, the leather cracked with time and pulled open the lid. Inside were boxes neatly labeled in her husband’s handwriting. Evelyn’s breath caught as she traced the ink. Arthur had been gone seven years, yet the sight of his letters made her ache as if the loss had happened yesterday. She opened the first box, expecting tax forms or old receipts. Instead,...
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The Silence Between Us: (Part Two)

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The living room smelled faintly of lavender and old wood. Lillian guided Evelyn toward a sofa upholstered in faded floral fabric, and for a moment the two women simply studied each other in silence. Outside, a wind chime tinkled in the breeze, fragile notes filling the gaps between unspoken words. “I was expecting you,” Lillian said at last. “Not soon, not necessarily even in my lifetime, but eventually. I always knew the truth would find its way to you.” Evelyn clutched her handbag tightly. “You knew about me all along.” “Of course.” Lillian’s voice was calm, steady, without apology. “Arthur never hid that he had a wife. He never pretended you didn’t exist.” Evelyn felt a sharp pain at that. “And yet he wrote to you. For years. He told you things he never told me.” Lillian sighed, her green eyes soft with memory. “Because what we shared was forbidden. He poured into letters what he couldn’t say aloud. That does not mean he loved you less, Evelyn. It only means he loved differently....
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