My Sister is Missing: The most creepy and gripping thriller of 2019. Carissa Lynch Ann

not yet, at least.

      ‘Shelley, why don’t you go play with Ben? Or take some of your dolls out of the trunk? Your aunt and I are going to have some coffee and a little chat. Please don’t fight with your brother. I would hate for Aunt Emily to see you guys get in trouble.’

      Ben had drifted back into the hallway and he was clinging to Madeline’s leg. ‘Go on now, you two.’ She gently nudged them. They galloped toward Ben’s room, pushing and shoving one another in a race to see who could get there first. I smiled at them, overcome by my own memories of sibling rivalry.

      Grateful to have a moment to speak alone with my sister, I followed her back down the hallway toward the kitchen. I hadn’t seen the rest of the house yet, and I was eager to see which bedroom Madeline had chosen for her and John, and which bedroom she’d put me up in for my stay.

      ‘The kids are beautiful. I wish I could have met them sooner,’ I said to her backside as she walked.

      As soon as we were back in the kitchen, she set to work pulling out coffee mugs and plugging in her Keurig machine.

      ‘John left me for another woman.’ Her back was still to me when she blurted out these words, and I saw her hunch down in a defeated posture.

      I took a seat at the table, flinching as the chair squealed loudly across the tile floors. I wasn’t sure what to say. I was shocked, to say the least.

      Mournfully, I watched my big sister glide around the kitchen, taking a package of cookies down from the cabinet and choosing a coffee blend for both of us.

      This was the thing about Madeline and me – we were comfortable in our silence together, even after all this time. I could tell her I was sorry and ask a million questions, but I knew she would tell me when she was ready.

      After the cookies and coffee were on the table, she told me, in a hushed whisper, that John had been having an affair.

      ‘Did you know?’

      Madeline shook her head. ‘I had no idea. He told me two Saturdays ago, out of the clear blue, that he was leaving me for his secretary. Her name is Starla. What kind of stupid name is that?’

      ‘Pretty freaking stupid,’ I agreed. ‘I’m so sorry. Have you filed for divorce?’

      She took a sip of her coffee, and said, ‘Not yet, but I’m going to. I haven’t even told the kids. I covered for his sorry ass. Told them he was going on a business trip for a while. I thought maybe he would change his mind … but he hasn’t even called or come by once since his little crude announcement.’

      ‘He hasn’t even come around to call on the kids?’ I was shocked. I didn’t know John well. Sure, he’d seemed pleasant at the wedding, but that didn’t mean much. I tried to remember what I knew about him but it wasn’t much. He was essentially a stranger to me. Madeline rarely talked about him in her texts. There was one time she called me … what was it that he said in the background? I couldn’t remember. He’d been irritated about something, shouting about one of the kids. But she’d always given the impression that things were good between them.

      Madeline shook her head in disgust. ‘He took a duffel bag of clothes and his bottle of cologne, and then told me he was staying at Starla’s for a while.’

      What an asshole, I thought, clenching my teeth as I thought about those sweet little kids and my sister struggling to work and take care of both of them.

      ‘What can I do? Tell me how I can help.’ I took her hand in mine, my jaw still tight with anger.

      ‘Well, I could use your emotional support, for one. But most of all … the kids go back to school next week. I need more time – time to figure out what I’m going to do. Time to plan my next move. Also, I have to sell this house, Em. I can’t afford the utilities or the property taxes, not on my income.’

      ‘But the mortgage is already paid for.’

      Madeline stuck up a hand to stop me. ‘I still can’t afford it. Well, I could if…’

      ‘If…?’ I pressed.

      ‘If I had a roommate. Or, I was thinking I could open it up again, like Grandma and Grandpa used to do…’

      My heart filled with dread as I realized what she was asking.

      ‘I can’t move back here. I can’t. There are too many bad memories here, Madi, you know that…’

      ‘But there are good memories, too, aren’t there?’

      I nodded slightly, unsure if there really were…

      My sister’s eyes were filmy again. She was staring at an old-fashioned cat clock on the wall. Following her gaze, I suddenly realized that it was the same one that had always hung there. You can never go home again – those words pinged around my head like ping pong balls, but I quickly shook them off.

      ‘I can stay for a while. I’ll need an internet connection for work.’

      ‘Already have one,’ my sister gushed. Her face was red and cheery again, like a heavy load had just been lifted from her shoulders. I didn’t want to get her hopes up too much – I couldn’t stay that long.

      ‘Thank you, Em. I knew I could count on you.’ My sister threw her arms around me for the second time today, nearly knocking over the coffee between us in the process.

      I rested my chin on her shoulder, staring out the kitchen window behind her. The sun shone brightly again, and through the trees, I could see a sparkle of water glistening between them. Those woods held nothing but horror for me, memories of the time I got hurt out there circling back for the first time in years…

      Even though I was sitting here now, doing the right thing, I wanted to grab my own duffel bag and run from this place.

      Maybe the saying means you can go home, you just shouldn’t.

       CHAPTER TWO

      The night trickled into the early morning hours, my sister and I chatting on the couch in the den. We chatted for hours after the kids went to bed, about John, about my lackluster love life. My sister asked me questions about work and college. Has your life turned out the way you thought it would?

      It was strange how even after all this time, and distance, things between us felt the same. My sister was the only person who could pluck a thought, just like that, from my brain. The night had taken on a dreamlike quality, the wine she kept pouring making me fuzzy and strange.

      By the time I stumbled back out to the car to retrieve my bag, I was overcome with sleepiness. The long drive to Bare Border and the hours of catching up had gone straight to my head. A rush of wind ripped through the trees surrounding the property, creating a thousand tiny whispers in the night air…

      Like a timid child, I yanked my bag out of the trunk and ran back inside with my head tucked down to my chest.

      Madeline was waiting for me in the doorway. She looked tired too, and she pointed down the east hallway as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

      ‘I put you up in the guest room. The Mello Yellow Room.’

      I nearly choked when she said that – either from tears or laughter, I didn’t know. I’d forgotten we called it that because it was so yellow, like our favorite citrusy drink when we were kids. Mom had painted the room herself, and she’d chosen this god-awful mustard-colored paint that gave the room its name today.

      Well, it’s my sewing room. So, it doesn’t matter if you girls like it or not, my mother had huffed. She would sit back there for hours some days, her posture perfect and stiff as the machine whirred and droned out its own methodical beat.

      There was a pang in my chest as I dragged my bulky bag down the dark hallway, which was