One Last Breath by Sarah Sutton (macos ebook reader .TXT) 📕

She had made her way over to the sand dunes, a few houses back from where Wendy had just walked.

“Stella, stay off the dunes!” Wendy called out.

She had lived in a beach community long enough to know that you weren’t supposed to let your kids play there, that they could ruin the dune grass planted to combat erosion. The storm, Wendy was sure, already gave it a beating, but she didn’t want to add to it.

Stella stopped in her tracks as she turned to her mother, her hair whipping her face as the wind blew full force, and she pointed in front of her at their dog Charlie. He was a few feet in front of Stella, digging desperately in the sand.

“Charlie, no!” Wendy called out as she picked up into a run toward where they stood. “Stella, don’t let him do that,” she called out again.

Stella ran toward him as well, scolding him, in her usual playful scold. But just like every other time Stella tried to stop Charlie from doing something, it was ineffective. And Wendy chuckled slightly at the sight of it—her daughter trying so hard and Charlie knowing very well that he could get away with it in her presence.

But all of a sudden Stella grew quiet as she stared down at the sand Charlie was frantically digging away. Wendy was already almost near them, and she slowed down to a brisk walk as she called out again for Charlie to stop. This time, Stella didn’t echo her mother’s words, and as Wendy looked at her, she could see her daughter’s face morph into something she had never seen on it before: terror. And just before Wendy could ask her what was wrong, her daughter let out a shrilling, pained scream as she ran toward her mother.

Panic and confusion pulsated through Wendy’s body as she instinctively scooped up her daughter, who buried her face into her mother’s neck.

As she approached the dog, he stepped back, almost as if he knew she needed to see what he had done. Her heart pounded as she peered into the hole. A large white object gleamed in the sand. Her mind swirled in confusion; she couldn’t quite make out what it was. But then her eyes moved down the object to where it joined another and splayed into short, smaller white objects. It was bone—a leg, a foot, toes. Wendy gasped for air.

She looked up into the distance to the man she had caught eyes with moments earlier. She wanted to call to him, to ask for help. But as her eyes moved toward him, she could see that he was already reaching for his phone in his pocket as he picked up into a run toward them—as if he already understood.

Chapter Four

Tara stepped into a narrow lobby of white walls as her heart thumped. She had arrived at the prison moments ago, only to hesitate at the door. The reality of where she was and what she was about to do slammed into her at full force. But she forced herself through the threshold as her mind gave her every reason to turn around.

She walked up to a large, protruding desk, scribbled her name down on a visitation log, and slid her ID and the clipboard into a slot under a large Plexiglas window. She didn’t even bother to look in front of her at the officer who grabbed the ID from the other side. She was too preoccupied with her thoughts, in keeping herself grounded with strength, and pushing every thought out of her mind telling her to leave.

“Tara Mills?” the officer asked.

It wasn’t just a question. A stroke of familiarity played in his words. As he spoke them, Tara realized too that his voice sounded familiar.

She raised her gaze and was met by a face she had certainly seen before. It was Owen Reiner, an officer she had trained with during recruit training at the NYPD academy. He had the same clean-shaven face and muscular arms that always made the shirts of his uniform look too small. Tara had always thought he would be intimidating if it weren’t for his height. Even seated, Tara could tell that he was still the same short man she remembered. The majority of his body was barely visible behind the desk. Training was the last time Tara had seen him, but he was a difficult person to forget. He always seemed to be at a disadvantage because of his height, and Tara knew he overcompensated by working out. He was one of the strongest and fastest during training, and had run a mile and a half in 8:15. It was a record.

His smile was wide. “Not a place I’d expect to run into you.”

Tara forced a smile. It was not a place she would expect to run into him either, or anyone for that matter, and it was certainly not a place she would hope to. They were an hour outside the city. Last Tara had heard when she left for Quantico, Owen was still in the NYPD, stationed in the Bronx. She was just as surprised to see him here at a state prison.

“When did you leave the NYPD?” she asked.

“About a year ago. My wife’s family lives up here, so we moved after we had a kid. I was able to get a nine-to-five.”

“Congratulations,” Tara replied before an awkward silence fell between them. He was a father now, and the mention only twisted the knot in Tara’s stomach tighter. She had remembered Owen always helping other officers in training, showing them how to increase their strength, their speed, going to the gym with them on weekends. He was always willing to devote his time to those that needed it, and Tara couldn’t help but assume he was a good father. It was a realization that made her suddenly feel like an outsider. She knew that as soon as he knew she was here to see her father—a