Rain Logan

By Lacey Lee

The lifeless town of Penorwood is about to be brought back to life when 15-year-old Rain Logan finds herself on her grandmother’s doorstep with nothing to lose and a secret to keep.

After a devastating event leads Rain to run away from her life in the concrete City, she turns to her grandmother, who she barely knows, and develops an identity that no one saw coming.

From hidden family secrets to a dark force with a century-old chip on his shoulder, Rain must clean up the mess that is her legacy and hopes she can survive her scariest and darkest dreams when they become a reality. Because…. for the first time in her life, Rain feels absolutely alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Sep 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781665750332

Lacey Lee

Lacey Lee, a Canadian Author who was born and raised in the City of Toronto. Lacey is the twin to a departed Angel. She has explored the raw, dark crevices of her imagination, and she delivers to you her fictional debut novel, Rain Logan.

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RAIN

LOGAN

LACEY LEE

Copyright © 2023 Lacey Lee.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

844-669-3957

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-5032-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-5033-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023918053

Archway Publishing rev. date: 09/25/2023

Dedication: To my J.A.M., I hope this book gives you the courage to live in the moment and push forward in anything you choose to do- even if you have doubts.

To my very supportive husband, thank you for saying I couldn’t do it. Without your motivation, the World would have been deprived.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1 Face the Facts

Chapter 2 The Search Continues

Chapter 3 Arrival

Chapter 4 A Commitment

Chapter 5 Unexpected Appearance

Chapter 6 Change in Plan

Chapter 7 Sphere of Never

Chapter 8 A Family Purpose

Chapter 9 Hello Summer

Chapter 10 The Comfiest Café

Chapter 11 The Forest School

Chapter 12 Pages to Remember

Chapter 13 Reality and Dreams

Chapter 14 Breathe

Chapter 15 Traveling Still

Chapter 16 Awake

Chapter 17 Hide and Seek

Chapter 18 Follow the Light

Chapter 19 Dormira

Chapter 20 An Apple a Day

Chapter 21 All Pages Revealed

Chapter 22 Life or Death

Chapter 23 Light Versus Dark

Chapter 24 Face-Off

Chapter 25 Bye-Bye Rain

Chapter 26 On My Mind

PROLOGUE

Dormira- 100 Years Ago

Marissa, what did you do? Peter questioned the Logan woman as he took her by the shoulders. The chanting outside was getting louder and closer. Their lakeside cottage was surrounded.

Please tell me you didn’t…. the fear grew in his voice. He tried to stay calm, but how could he? Their house was under attack.

You were going to die! Marissa stammered, What was I supposed to do? She turned away from him and looked around their living room when the banging of the window shutters grew louder.

Because you released him! Peter replied frustratedly.

Peter Weston was generally a patient man. Being a Logger, he spent most of his days alone in the forest’s silence. But this fiery woman in front of him, who he loved with his whole heart, had a way about her that could get you to pull out your hair.

I was scared, and I would have tried anything! I didn’t even know it was going to work. I thought it was a myth! An old wives’ tale. A story the elders told to scare us when we were children! I didn’t know… I didn’t think I could make him real! How would I have known?

You’re the daughter of Dahlia, Marissa! You cannot be that naive. I’ve heard the stories of your mother—the history. And you’re a direct line. How could you be so careless?

Naive? Careless? Marissa seethed, jamming her finger into her husband’s chest. How dare you? If I was so naive and careless and you heard everything about my family, why did you stay, Peter? huh?

The cottage started to shake like an earthquake, rumbling the ground beneath them. Peter grabbed his wife and pulled her into his arms as pictures flew from the walls and smashed just feet before them.

Marissa buried her head into Peter’s chest as he watched black moth-like figures fly past the blown-out windows, circling the cottage. There has to be twenty to thirty of them out there, he said as his head whipped side to side, trying to keep his eyes on everything.

We have to get you out of here! Those things out there are as long as a picaroon with the head of one, too! Peter said in horror, referencing one of his logging tools. Where is your mother? She should have been here already!"

I-I’m not leaving you here. They’ll kill you. Please, just come with us, she pleaded, laying her hand on her pregnant stomach. This is all my fault. I won’t let him take you! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

No, Marissa. You have to get out of here. He won’t stop until he has you, he replied, lowering his gaze to her bulging stomach. Until he has them.

Peter knew his wife was scared- so was he, but what could he do? He couldn’t fight these things. He was just a plain old logger. Sure, he was strong and solid, but imagining himself, in his dirty old Jeans and flannel shirt, storming outside to do what? He couldn’t even see the guy, thing, or whatever he was! Peter paced angrily, cursing the monsters outside.

Marissa could see him, though. Or, well, she could before she became pregnant and lost whatever power she had. He remembered the first time he saw her. She was a vision in a white summer dress, red hair blazing with her arms out above her head dancing with the birds, a ribbon of flowers flowing around her. She shouldn’t have even noticed him. But he was glad she did.

I’m sorry. I didn’t think, Marissa said, snapping Peter back to the present. This is not possible. How did he find me? I haven’t left the cottage in weeks. Maybe, maybe…

There is no maybe. What don’t you understand? You promised him your first child, Marissa! Why would you do that? Why would you make a promise to that… to that, THING? frustrated Peter ran his hand roughly through his thick black hair as he scanned their living room. It looked like chaos, with most of their furniture stacked against the front door.

He was going to kill you. I had no choice. You know that! I didn’t know that offering him my power meant giving him my child! Marissa screamed.

The two bangs under the newly polished floorboards of the living room got their attention. Okay, okay, she’s here, Peter said, grabbing his wife’s arm and leading her toward the cellar door. A window smashed somewhere in the home, and the glass exploded a sharp, deafening sound from the front of the cottage.

They’re coming, hurry, hurry, Peter whispered frantically, trying to locate Dahlia in the dark shadows of the cellar. A beam of low light filtered through one of the windows and highlighted Dahlia’s short white hair, her beady blue eyes glowing as she stepped forward.

I’m here, child. Come, come, we don’t have much time, Dahlia said as she threw her arm over her daughter’s shoulders and shuffled her to the far corner of the cellar.

Dahlia turned and laid her hand on the cold brick wall and whispered. The bricks started to rumble and separate at the grout joints, and a large opening appeared. Peter stared in amazement. It’s not because he hadn’t seen the Logan woman perform magic before, but her power unnerved him.

Come now, right through here. Follow me, child. There is no more time. Dahlia ordered.

No, I can’t leave him, Marissa cried as she turned from her mother and ran into Peter’s arms, tears running down her cheeks.

Please come with me. Please! I won’t go. Not without you, she pleaded through a sob.

Go, Marissa! They’re in the house. Go now! I will find you. I promise! Just go, he shouted as the cellar door burst open with a splintering scream.

GO NOW! Peter yelled as he pushed Marissa through the opening into her mother’s arms and watched as she reached for him, crying. The wall began to seal shut. I will find you, my love. Take care of our babies, he screamed as he fell to his knees.

The pain and darkness too much to bear, he fell forward, thinking of his wife and the lives growing inside her. I will find you, he whispered before everything went black.

Hurry, we’re almost there, Dahlia said quickly as she pulled her daughter’s hand behind her. She gave a quick squeeze before angling her lantern around the concrete bend.

But where are you taking me, Mother? How will Peter find me? What if they kill him? Marissa panted frantically.

Don’t worry. I didn’t come alone. Just hurry! A few more turns. Are you in any pain?

Dahlia worried about Marissa being so far into her pregnancy, but she needed to get her out of this mess. Marissa was never any good at looking out for herself and has often made immature decisions. This current situation was evidence of that. But she loved her daughter and her soon-to-be grandchildren.

N-no, where are we going? What if they find us? How did he find out? It can’t be possible. No one knew! I didn’t go anywhere! Stop! Marissa panted. She let go of her mother’s hand and steadied herself against the cobblestone wall.

I can’t breathe. I can’t go any further. Marissa began to cry as she held her stomach.

Listen here, Marissa, what you did was stupid and naive. We have laws in place for a reason! Why you broke them making a deal with that... that monster is beyond me. But pull yourself together. There isn’t much time. I must return to end this before the G.O.D. finds out if they haven’t already. You have to get those children to safety! Do you hear me? He does not know you are bearing twins, my child. He believes only one child has been conceived. If he gets a hold of you… Dahlia couldn’t bring herself to finish.

Why does he want my baby? Why couldn’t he just access the vessel after I allowed it? Marissa questioned quickly. She was searching for a reason that proved this was all a mistake. Anything- she was searching for anything.

None of this made any sense to Marissa. Her head spinning and her feet aching, she worried for her husband. This was all her fault, and she just left him. The cottage was surrounded. Their quaint, pretty little cottage, where they planned to raise their family, was invaded by the darkest forces, and it was all her fault. She started to cry.

Just pull yourself together, Marissa! Now is not the time. Let us go! Dahlia replied without answering her daughter’s questions. There is no use in explaining, she thought. Once we cross the timeline, she will have no memory of this event. Or of him!

Just get her to the Gray, she reminded herself.

Dahlia once again got hold of her daughter and pulled her forward down the dark, narrow tunnel.

Upon making the last turn and reaching the end of the tunnel, Dahlia laid down her lantern as Marissa panted beside her, trying to catch a breath.

We are here, my child, Dahlia told her daughter. She turned and took Marissa by the shoulders.

Once I open this Gray, you will be met by a fisherman. Do not worry; he is a friend and will ensure you are cared for.

W-What do you mean? Where am I going? Marissa questioned, horrified.

Marissa, listen to me. You do as I say, and you and your babies will be fine. You will continue to raise them as normal, but you will have no memories of Dormira or these horrible events. With the exception of me, all other memories will be forgotten.

No, no, you can’t do that! Please, Mother! What of Peter? What will happen when he comes for me? Please!

Stop it now, Marissa! You will do as I say to survive! Dahlia stated harshly. She felt immense sadness for her daughter and the loneliness she would soon face once she crossed the portal. But her daughter invoked the darkness; this was the penalty and her saving. There was no other choice.

Dahlia grabbed her daughter and held her tight as she laid her left hand on the stone wall before them. The wall began to open as in the cellar they had just left. Dahlia took her daughter’s face in her hands and gave her one long kiss on the forehead.

Take care of the children, my sweet daughter. We will reunite shortly.

P-please do whatever is necessary to save my Peter! Promise me you will come back. Promise!

I will come for you, my child. But I must return at once to complete the circle. You have to go now.

The circle? From the stories? But that hasn’t been performed in almost 100 years! Oh, Mother, what have I done? Marissa cried.

Maybe I can help too, and I can come back with you and attend the circle!

Listen to me, Marissa; you need to cross the Gray. You cannot help in your state. All of your abilities have been gone since you became pregnant. I will be back as soon as I can. Just take care and keep the girls safe until I return, Dahlia said emotionally as she laid her hands on her daughter’s stomach.

Girls? Marissa asked wistfully, placing her hands over her mother’s.

Yes, my child, you will birth not one but two daughters. But you must go now, Dahlia said as she took her daughter’s face into her hands once more.

I love you.

I love you more, Mother.

Dahlia traced a circle on her daughter’s forehead and crossed an X through it. She took her daughter into her arms and whispered a memory wipe spell:

"Meminissi non altera."

As the two gave one final squeeze, Dahlia broke their embrace and shoved her daughter lightly through the Gray. The wall closed firmly behind Marissa, and only then could she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Dahlia…. Dahlia, she heard her name echo deep off the cold stone walls.

She took a moment to collect herself before she answered the call. Her daughter, she knew, was safe on the other side of the portal, but her heart ached, hoping she could keep her promise of ending this.

Over here, Andrew, Dahlia replied, knowing it was her trusted guard. She headed in his direction, back through the underground tunnel, and was first met by his large shadow before rounding the corner.

Oh well now, don’t you look like a stick of flaming gooey marshmallow, Dahlia said with a smile as she came face to face with Andrew.

Andrew rolled his eyes at Dahlia and said, I am assuming the marshmallow thing is some sort of compliment that, as usual, I do not understand, so I thank you for it, but we must hurry back. That human of your daughters has been collected by the Gypsies and was taken to their encampment. We are doing what we can to keep Siferhell’s disgusting Chardits from entering, but there are too many. And if that isn’t enough, I fear the G.O.D. may have gotten wind of what happened and are on their way.

The G.O.D.? Are you sure, Andrew? Dahlia questioned anxiously.

The Guardians of Dormira are a group of the oldest and most advanced souls in this realm. Their purpose is to protect this sacred place and to defend its purity.

Yes, Dahlia. The tiny new Gypsy girl with the yellow braids has seen them in her visions, and it appears all members are in transport.

Ariella? The orphan child Halo is housing? I thought she was average. She is so meek and young. Are you sure, Andrew?

Yes, yes, that’s the one—skittish little thing. Ariella has said she had a vision of a cloaked group of four on their way. I wouldn’t have believed it, except Halo swears the child has the sight.

This is not good, Andrew. If the G.O.D. are truly on their way, they may know of Peter and what Marissa has done. This will end badly for everyone in Dormira, Dahlia replied. She was nibbling on the inside of her cheek as she worried about the consequences her family would suffer.

Dormira is the place where all souls go to revisit their lives in other realms. The Guardians help them see what worked in their evolution and where they allowed the darkness too much control. For someone to risk such a place would be too damn all souls to relive their darkness without reflection in the light.

If Dahlia couldn’t fix what her daughter had done, everyone’s souls would be in jeopardy.

As they exited the tunnel and returned to the cottage cellar, Dahlia and Andrew were met by an unexpected guest.

What in the bloody cauldron socks are you doing here, George? Dahlia asked, irritated.

Is that any way to greet the man who holds the answers to all your problems, Dahlia? George Tempest responded with a mischievous smile.

Oh, out with it, George. We are in a bit of a hurry if you haven’t noticed.

Well, since you brought him up, aren’t you going to introduce me to this dashing knight of yours? George asked Dahlia teasingly, circling Andrew, looking him up and down.

Unlike Andrew, with his black eyes and flaming red hair, George stood about 3 feet shorter with silver hair and a thin body. Dahlia thought he looked like a showy magician compared to Andrew.

George, this is Andrew. Andrew, this is George. Now that the two of you have been introduced, can we get on with this? The G.O.D. may be on their way, Dahlia said impatiently.

Very well, George replied flippantly, I know you have just hidden Marissa from this realm…. nuh uh-uh, he cut off Dahlia as she opened her mouth to deny it.

No point in denying it, Dahlia. I followed you and waited until I saw it with my own eyes. There have been whispers that you had a connection to numerous timelines- or realms, Dahlia. Still, I thought it was just childish wishes. Like, and I say this with the utmost respect, Dahlia, but how do you, a mildly old water maid, possess such a power?

Andrew stepped in between Dahlia and George as soon as he recognized that George was oblivious to the danger, he just got himself into by calling Dahlia old.

Why, you little fart Wizard…. Dahlia seethed, making a swipe around Andrew to reach George.

A what Wizard, did you say? I’ll have you know that I am the only air controller in all of Dormira or, or… in all of the Universe, for that matter! George preached.

Hey, I reckon you should spit it out, mate, before I have to let her go, Andrew said as Dahlia’s eyes flashed a sharp blue.

Fine, fine, George started, pacing in a line, trying to find the right words—the most dramatic terms.

The answer to your problem is quite simple, you see, and one which I have already begun putting into motion. Are you ready? he asked excitedly.

We transport Dormira to the Gray realm!

Dahlia’s mouth gaped open as she stared at George in disbelief. How preposterous! she managed to squawk out, but as soon as she said the words, the less impossible this idea seemed to be.

CHAPTER 1

Face the Facts

I jumped out of bed when I heard my namesake violently thrash against the glass of my bedroom window.

If it were any other night, and I had trouble sleeping, I would have welcomed the beautiful sound until it swallowed me back into a dead sleep.

But it wasn’t just any other night, and it wasn’t me I was hoping was in their bed fast asleep.

The short-term bliss I felt seeing the rain quickly became an unbearable pain in my chest. I sat back on the bed and curled my knees towards my chin, holding on tightly as the events from the day before flooded back. The panic made my throat feel like it was closing. I tried to focus on my breathing and looked out the window for comfort- but it was no use.

None of this was normal, and I was struggling to cope.

I was used to my boring, teenage, sheltered life. Wake up, go to school, come home. It was all very basic- until yesterday.

There was nothing entirely exciting that would ever warrant this much attention or result in me being hunted for my life. What was happening at that moment, though, was surreal, and I felt like I was looking in on someone else’s life—a life that didn’t involve me, my mom or my sister.

There was frost beginning to creep along the inside bottom of the window sill, forming water crystals like snowflakes crawling up the glass. My twin sister Brooke loved the rain just as much as I did. My mom didn’t, though. But that was no surprise, as she didn’t like most things and was what you would call a complainer.

I closed my eyes and thought of Brooke. Her blue eyes, which matched my own, sparkled with mischief. A small smile grew from the crook of her pale, smooth cheek as if she knew something I didn’t.

God, where are you, Brooke?

The sound of my mother downstairs talking to the Police snapped me back. I looked back out the window to count the lights coming from the City’s staggering houses and buildings. A small part of me was convinced I would spot Brooke in one of the illuminated windows if I looked hard enough.

I just hoped she was still in the City so I could find her. I checked my alarm to see 10:17 p.m. on the screen and realized it was almost time again.

Don’t worry, Brooke. I’m coming.

My mother’s voice echoed through my partially closed bedroom door, making it difficult to focus on anything else. She sounded angry, then scared, then angry again. I waited a minute to listen for a voice different than hers, but she was the only one talking, as always.

I shuffled quietly through the room towards the door. I was being extra cautious not to disturb any of the clothes and random books covering the length of the floorboards. I knew I should’ve cleaned it, but there was time for that later. Plus, my mother and the Police were the ones who made most of this mess in the first place, so I didn’t care.

As I reached the bedroom door, I carefully crept down the short hallway to the stairs. I had to lower myself to sit on the top step to see down through the railings. I saw my mother pacing in the living room, off to the side of the front door. Two Police Officers stood in the doorway, silently listening to her carry on.

Her red hair cast a fiery glow over the shorter Officer’s shoulder.

Ms. Logan, please calm down, the taller Officer pleaded. You know our entire division is working with local volunteers searching for your daughter. The weather is making it difficult to navigate the search at this hour, he hesitantly explained. We will return in the morning and continue the search heading south.

It has been two days! my mother seethed, obviously not caring about the Officer’s excuses. My daughter has been…, she choked on her sob, unable to continue. I tried to hold my shaking breath so I wouldn’t break down, too.

It was hard seeing my mother so upset. She was bossy, though, and everything always had to be done right this second. No matter what it was, laundry, dinner, homework, it was always rush, rush, rush.

Ma’am, please, we are doing everything we can, the taller Officer continued, trying to calm her down. I couldn’t tell if he was intimidated by her or if concern had him running his hands nervously through his slick black hair.

We have searched most of the fielded areas surrounding the main highway. So, to be clear, you are certain Brooke hasn’t run away before? he hesitantly asked.

My mother was borderline hysterical at this point, and she stormed toward the two Policemen with no thought that she was half their size.

No, she hasn’t, she stated angrily, shoving her shaking finger in their faces.

I don’t understand why you keep coming here asking me these same questions when you should be looking for my daughter, she yelled.

My mother stood her ground. I could tell she was furious with all the stalling and the lack of concern the Officers had that Brooke was gone. Rightfully so, as she was only 15 years old. I knew my mother was scared that something horrible had happened, but she tried to stay hopeful. At least in front of me, she did. A tear slid down my cheek as I watched my mother fight a battle with persons who were supposed to be here to help her.

To help Brooke.

Well, get on then, she ordered them, motioning towards the front door. I knew my mother wanted them to leave, and I watched her lead the Officers to the front entrance, not caring if they were ready to go.

The Officers shared a look, and I knew I had to keep her calm before she got herself into trouble. I skipped down the stairs, pretending I hadn’t been listening and entered the room to stand next to her. I kept my head down until she grabbed hold of my hand.

Hello, Rain, my name is Boswell, the taller and much younger Officer said. I knew this was his last name, though, as the tag stitched to the front of his uniform read J. Boswell.

He must have been at least twenty years old, with shiny black hair and smoke-coloured eyes. The small pink acne bumps on his forehead and under his chin made me think he may have been a bit younger.

Hi, I said to Boswell while extending my right hand so he could dutifully shake it. His hand was gentle but damp. I figured he wore the thick gloves he had held in his left hand for most of the night. I sneakily tucked my hand to the side of my leg and gave a quick wipe before looking back at my mother.

I hadn’t interacted with the Police before this, so I was pretty shaky. A few Cops once came to my elementary school to talk about forest fires or something. Still, I always felt kind of intimidated when I saw them driving around the City.

I looked through the corner of my eye and saw the shorter, older Officer staring at me. The hardness of his black eyes and facial expressions made my breath turn shallow. His name stitch read W. Shorty. It was fitting- surprisingly, it had my mouth twitching to smirk.

After providing me with a concerned half-smile, Officer Boswell turned back to my mother and opened his scanner pad.

Ms. Logan, with all due respect, I know Brooke was recently diagnosed with bipolar disorder, so is there anyway her disappearance could be related to, maybe, a new medication? he asked hesitantly, or had she missed any other school days that you forgot about? he asked, persistently.

Absolutely not! my mother said, stomping her foot—her grip on my hand tightening. My daughter is not her diagnosis, so I would appreciate it if both of you would stop delaying the search with these stupid questions! The nerve. I’ll have you know I oversaw her taking her medication every day since it was prescribed, so for the last time, she did not run away because of her- illness. Now go find my daughter, she growled.

Well, we spoke to some of her teachers at the school, and she’s been missing an unusual number of days recently, so you want to explain that to us again, Ms. Logan? he seethed, jingling the handcuffs that hung from his uniform belt.

I let my mother carry on about their flawed system. There was absolutely no way I was going to interrupt her anyway, as I was the only one in this room who knew the answer to Shorty’s questions. But even if I wanted to tell them- which I didn’t- I couldn’t say anything now. The sound of metal clanging off Shorty’s hip scared me into silence.

If the Police ever found out that I was secretly going to my sister’s homeroom for attendance to cover her skipping before this… the thought terrified me.

I know we weren’t close, but Brooke is my twin, so there would have been some birthright heads-up if she was planning to run away, though, right?

None of this made any sense.

I lifted my gaze from the floor, so lost in my thoughts that my eyes caught directly with Officer Boswell’s. His sharp gray eyes softened.

Well, with all due respect, ma’am, I don’t need you telling me how to do my job, Officer Shorty sternly countered, we have to ask these questions, especially when dealing with a minor that has confirmed mental health issues and gaps in her reported location. I believe it’s time to speak with the girl’s doctor, as I’m curious about her situation.

Excuse me? My mother gasped, taking a small step backward. You’re joking, right?

I held her hand firmly. My sister wasn’t crazy. I was here with her.

But instead of explaining anything further, Shorty opened his scanner pad and swiped through a few pages before looking back at our glaring faces.

We have it here that you told the responding Officers for the missing person’s report that Dr. Waywerd is the doctor who diagnosed Brooke a few weeks ago. Is he still her psychiatrist? Shorty said in a no-nonsense, flat tone.

My hand went cold. I wasn’t sure if it was the lifeless fade settling into his eyes or my hand losing blood flow due to my mother’s grip.

We were scared. This is real. Brooke is missing; it’s freezing outside, and there were two cops in our house staring at my mom and me like- what?

Criminals? I thought I would empty my stomach right there like a little girl. I had to get it together. Brooke needed me.

Yes, it’s Dr. Waywerd, my mother hesitantly confirmed, I will call him right now and see if he will speak with you. But I doubt he will answer at this hour, my mother spat before letting go of my hand.

We will know soon enough, won’t we? Officer Shorty said, straightening his back.

As my mother stormed off to get her cell phone, the Police Officers stood there with their full attention now on me. I locked my eyes on the floor and wiped my wet palms down the sides of my pants. The thought crossed my mind to scrunch my eyes closed and will myself to disappear, just like when I was a kid, but I wasn’t quick enough.

You know, if you have any information that may help us, you can tell us, Shorty said in a kid-glove tone. You won’t be in any trouble. We just want to make sure your sister gets back home safely.

My ears were ringing, so I couldn’t hear the rest of what he said. All I knew was what stood in front of me. Both Officers wore dark black uniforms with POLICE emblazoned on the front vest in reflective white. When Boswell approached me, I took a protective step back, doubling the space between us. My legs were shaking slightly in fear.

Rain, he said directly, we are here to help you as well. If you are not fine, or if there is anything you know or you may suspect, please let us help, Boswell said, offering me his business card.

I had nothing to offer him. I had no idea where Brooke was, and I hadn’t seen or heard from her since she disappeared. But I was sure that if I had known, I would have told him everything- anything. And this alone scared me differently.

These Officers were just employees doing the job they went to school for. How did they have so much power that I would have turned on my sister?

Over my dead body!

After giving him a slight nod, I took the card and shoved it in my pocket, pretending that I understood and would follow his invitation to call.

Wrong.

My mother returned to the foyer—her cell phone in her hand and a mission in her eyes. I hoped she had seen mine, too.

Dr. Waywerd is on his way here now, she stated matter-of-factly to Shorty. "If you want to wait for him, you could do so in the living room.

My mother had a short fuse, and I sometimes wondered if it was the reason my father wasn’t around.

It was odd to think of him now. I never met him, but Brooke and I always made up stories to people about who he was. In the last story, if I remember correctly, we said our father was a travelling doctor and was away in another country. It may have been the truth for all we knew because my mother refused to talk about him.

I looked up at her, and she gave me a furious look before following the Officers into the living room.

Boswell and Shorty better put their training into good practice, or they could find themselves looking for another job once my mother was through with them. Those poor guys had no idea who they were up against with my mother.

I overheard her complaining to her friend Christine last night about all the stalling she thought the Police were doing. This is why, after Brooke disappeared last night, she went out and did her own search. I don’t know where she went, but when she came home in tears.

As we all sat awkwardly in the living room waiting for Dr. Waywerd, we discussed the Officers’ procedure protocols for tomorrow’s search, which included looking for her body.

My stomach could not handle it anymore, and shaking my hands in my lap made it worse. The thought of Brooke… lying somewhere. I felt faint and almost choked out a sob.

Her face popped into my head as she had looked the last time, I saw her. My eyes clenched shut. She was smiling at me, heading to class. Looking back, I can’t remember if I smiled back. It sounds weird, but it has bothered me since discovering she was missing. I want to think that I had- that the last time she saw me, I was smiling as she had been.

Was it actually the last time?

The sound of the doorbell at the exact moment my mother’s clock belted that whining chi-ung sound startled me enough to stop me from blacking out. My mind was spinning.

Dr. Waywerd showed up at precisely 11:00 p.m. I hadn’t met him before now, and I never intended to. Brooke told me nothing about her appointments, and I was never allowed to go with her.

The doctor was very tall, with beady eyes and a long, arrow-shaped nose. He smelled of cold, wet City air. I watched him shuffle his feet nervously as he removed his jacket and shook the rainwater onto the floor.

I tried not to look at him the entire time he talked to the Officers, but I was itching to get out of there. The hand on the clock seemed to move slower than usual, and the ticking of the seconds drove me mad and entranced me.

Is that all, Doctor? Shorty’s voice boomed, bringing my eyes back to the party.

She is a very smart kid, Dr. Waywerd replied, but like many of the patients with her mental illness, I believe Brooke has trouble managing her thoughts and the natural emotions they trigger.

As expected by me, Dr. Waywerd said he didn’t know where Brooke could be and had only been treating her for a few weeks.

I wanted to roll my eyes. I was her twin, and I didn’t know where she was. So, of course, he wouldn’t. I picked at the skin around my nails as he continued.

The doctor bent forward and sat on the arm of the sofa my mother and I were on, facing the Officers in front of us. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he placed a comforting hand on my mother’s shoulder, and I felt her next to me relax a bit under his hand.

In my professional opinion, Dr. Waywerd continued, and as I had already told Ms. Logan, I believe Brooke was experiencing serious manic symptoms when she first started seeing me. Classic, searchable and textbook symptoms. As I understand it, Brooke had identified some of these symptoms from looking online before asking her mother if she should come and see me.

What did he just say?

Brooke was the one who called you? Wasn’t it a referral from her family doctor? Or her parent, Ms. Logan? Officer Shorty asked, just as confused as I was. He looked back and forth between the doctor and my mother.

Why would Brooke want to see a doctor? I thought it was my mother’s idea and never thought to ask why. I wasn’t attending the appointments, so I hadn’t questioned it. A sadness settled into my chest that Brooke chose to talk to a doctor before she told me something was even wrong. I told her everything.

Why hadn’t she?

It is common for girls her age, especially after puberty, to have concerns about changing emotions or behaviour. I can’t say that I have had any of these kids specifically seek me out. Still, I am here to offer my services to help control these children as best as possible, Dr. Waywerd answered purposefully, with his chin stuck forward.

I shared a glance with Boswell, who appeared to have the same surprise at the doctor’s choice of words.

Boswell tilted his head and raised his eyebrow at the doctor as a silent order to repeat himself.

I meant to say... to help control their emotions and behaviour because they may be changing or concerning, he stumbled cautiously.

With Brooke being 15, for example, she would be more able to advise us of any concerns that she had or if certain emotions were unfamiliar to her.

It was a very reasonable, professional response, but why was he sweating? Dr. Waywerd had an oily sheen forming above his eyebrows, and his dark eyes kept scanning the room uncomfortably. My mother didn’t seem to notice any of this, as she was angrily focused on Officer Shorty.

You know, Dr. Waywerd said eagerly, as part of her treatment, I had Brooke keep a daily journal of her activities. She did this so we could identify any negative triggers or environments affecting her. We were supposed to go through her most recent entries this Friday. Maybe, if, he paused to look down at my mother.

If I could read the journals, it may give me…, um, excuse me, the doctor coughed, give an idea of where she went…. or where she was, he finished stumbling again.

Were the Officers having the same effect on the doctor as they had on me earlier? Was he also scared?

That sounds reasonable, Doctor, Officer Shorty confirmed, cutting off whatever Boswell had stepped forward to say.

The slight retreat of Boswell after Officer Shorty started speaking showed the rank. Boswell was the junior here- the second. We had this in common. When his eyes caught mine, I gave him a small smile.

Ms. Logan, could you get us these journals, please? Officer Shorty asked my mother while writing something in his notepad. I watched the chandelier light reflect off his bald head.

Umm, hold on there, Leonor, Dr. Waywerd quickly interrupted, stopping my mother from leaving the room.

My patient wrote these journals as an active treatment exercise, so I believe I should be the one reviewing them first. You know, to confirm that there are no confidentiality concerns, he said with a steadier voice.

My mother let out an exasperated breath. I could tell she was tired, but her irritation at being in the house while Brooke was out there gave her a feral look, like a caged animal ready to pounce.

I don’t see a problem with that, Doctor, Officer Shorty added, cutting Boswell off again as he was about to protest. I trust you will keep us informed of anything, big or small, that you believe may be of any assistance?

Oh, of course. I will have my office contact you should I find anything, the doctor offered. With a nod of his head, I watched as my mother left to get Brooke’s journals.

Should I say no, they couldn’t have them? Could I say no?

These were my sister’s journals, and her thoughts and feelings were in them, as Dr. Waywerd said. I just didn’t want everyone reading them.

But they were the Police.

I was torn on what to do. I didn’t have any siblings other than Brooke. It was always Mom and us. My grandmother didn’t live in the City, and we hadn’t seen her in years, so it was just the three of us for as long as I could remember.

Rain, Dr. Waywerd said, forcing me to look his way. How have you been? Your sister told me that your birthday is coming up. Any plans for your big sixteen? he asked in a higher-toned voice than he used earlier.

Any plans? I repeated, moving over to the couch as he sat beside me. I shifted my body slightly away from him and stared at the space between us, praying my mother would hurry back.

Yes, plans, the doctor confirmed. Girls your age usually plan this milestone birthday for weeks: parties, shopping, stuff like that. Do you have something you’re hoping to get for your birthday? he asked with exaggerated cheerfulness.

My eyes met with Boswell’s again, and he offered a small smile. I could tell he also felt uncomfortable with this whole gathering.

Just my sister coming home, I answered honestly. I didn’t know what else to say. Somewhere in his brain, he must have thought it was a fine idea to talk about balloons, cake and presents when my sister was missing. But I just couldn’t.

I then remembered the necklace.

Last year, on our birthday, when we came home from family dinner, a little black box was waiting for Brooke, sitting on her bed. I remember thinking that my mother was so sneaky, making us believe we weren’t getting any birthday gifts because money was tight, but then surprising us when we got home.

I stood by and watched Brooke pull the chain with a glass globe from the little black box before I ran to my bed, throwing all the covers and pillows onto the floor, looking for mine. I was so excited, and I just had to have it.

But nothing was there, not within the bedding or under the bed. I watched as Brooke struggled to put the necklace on herself, but I didn’t offer to help. I just sat there watching her, trying not to cry in disappointment or jealousy.

My mother tried denying that she was the one who bought the necklace and even went as far as taking it away from Brooke that night. It was all for a show, though, because Brooke had been wearing it the very next day and every day since. Sure, she tried to keep it from me by wearing it under her shirt, but she couldn’t fool me. I may have fallen for my mother’s story of having no money, but she really meant that she only had enough for Brooke’s birthday.

Since that day, I knew I was my mother’s extra, and I couldn’t have cared less about my birthday.

Here they are, my mother called out from somewhere in the hallway. I flinched at the sound of her voice after replaying the events of my last birthday.

Dr. Waywerd stood and waited for her to re-enter the living room. She had three different coloured books in her hands, and I recognized the brown one with the gold butterfly on the front. It was the journal in which Brooke said she wrote her therapy homework in. The other two books were her investigation journal and her English reading.

I looked away when my mother handed the doctor the journals, and the sinking feeling I had in my stomach rolled, making me nauseous. I wanted to grab the books and make a run for it. But instead, I sat there with my hands twisted in my lap and staring at the floor. I started to get angry at Brooke for causing all this if she actually did run away. Maybe if she got in trouble for what she wrote in her journals, too, she wouldn’t pull something like this again, and I wouldn’t have to be questioned by the Police, doctors and whoever else decides to show up to help.

Officer Shorty and Boswell stood and offered a handshake to Dr. Waywerd before they followed my mother to the foyer. I watched her bid the Officers a hasty goodbye and quickly close the door behind them.

When my mother returned to the living room, she glanced at her wooden wall clock and chewed her lip in worry. I cringed as Dr. Waywerd stuffed the journals into his muddy leather brief bag. I wanted to reach out and rip them from his hands.

You know, Rain, with all of this going on, it cannot be easy for you, and you may be feeling or thinking differently at the moment. Just know, if you ever need to talk, I am always around, so come see me, Dr. Waywerd said, handing me his business card.

Sure, I said, putting the card in the same pocket as Officer Boswell’s. I had no intention of ever calling him, but if taking the card would get him to leave, who cares?

I am also a bit concerned because I know you have been trying to search for your sister by yourself, Dr. Waywerd continued.

My mother’s posture immediately straightened in defence as my face burned with embarrassment at how he said it.

Your mother told me that the Police had to order you to stay home since you triggered many calls for false sightings yesterday. This kind of acting out behaviour is typical of kids your age that go through an event such as this, he said with a nod like he approved his statement.

I looked to my mother to see if she would say anything to defend me, but she stayed quiet, with her hands clasped in front of her. I flushed with anger. How could she not defend me when she was doing the same?

Brooke was gone, and all these adults were expecting me just to sit here idle.

Absolutely not.

I angrily rubbed my face and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I would not let them see me cry, even out of frustration. How could she do this to me?

I was always getting into trouble, even if it wasn’t me who did anything wrong. At school and home, it seemed like I was the one who always had to take the fall for everyone else.

He mumbled a few other things, but I didn’t care to listen to him any longer. I just nodded my head until my mother walked him to the door.

Before Dr. Waywerd left, he gave me one final look over his shoulder and stepped out into the pouring rain. I wondered how Brooke even confided in him. For a doctor, he spoke with this condescending tone and had this stupid old brief bag and crinkled brown suit. He would be the last person I would have trusted.

But I didn’t have the time to talk to Dr. Waywerd anyhow. And I definitely wasn’t going to be talking to my mother. I had a stay-at-home order to break, and I just hoped I wasn’t too late.

CHAPTER 2

The Search Continues

I sat quietly in the living room, watching my mother slip on her jacket and rain boots just moments after closing the door behind Dr. Waywerd. I knew it would be another night of her driving around aimlessly only to return crying and red-faced.

But until Brooke was found, I would also continue my own search.

Now, I’m not sure if it was a twin thing or if it was me reaching, but I had this deep feeling that the answers were right in front of me.

But where?

Brooke was an amateur sleuth- a baby detective, she called herself. She was blatantly nosey, and no one ever knew what she was up to. Her journals or spy notebooks- whatever they were called officially, always told me, though.

I have thought over and over about the last few weeks leading up to her going missing, and I cannot come up with a single answer as to where she could have gone or why.

Aside from school projects and her appointments with Dr. Waywerd, Brooke hadn’t been out investigating recently, so there wasn’t anything to worry about. It wasn’t her fault, though. Being confined to our neighbourhood left few options for people-watching, and she probably got bored with her usual suspects.

None of it made any sense. Our life was not particularly interesting, and we definitely weren’t important famous people. We lived in an average-sized house on an average City Street. My mom was an office assistant in a building downtown, and we had lasagna for dinner on Thursdays. We didn’t have any pets, and we rarely had people over. All three of us just liked to keep to ourselves. It was like that for as long as I could remember. Our life was boring, so Brooke started looking into other people’s lives.

What I remembered from reading through her journals is that she found out the tall, bald guy at the grocery store sold beer without a license from the back door after closing. Also, the owner of Flip’s Cleaners on Jane had a girlfriend his wife didn’t know about. But these were regular discoveries. It was always a secret affair, someone stealing or bending the law with unimportant doings.

Her other notebooks were mostly schoolwork, like a family tree history project or her novel essays for English. The essays were more interesting than our family history that I remember, but nothing that would tell me how to find Brooke or why someone would have taken her. My throat narrowed as I tried to swallow those thoughts.

I stopped walking around the room and closed my eyes as flashes of images from childhood memories flooded in.

Brooke’s laugh sounded as I let go of the rusted bars of the tire swing—her brown hair whipping in the wind as the swing unravelled in a spinning cyclone. I inhaled the remembered scent of plastic, metal, and wet grass. A large smile brightened my face as I watched her twirl and twirl.

I promise I will find you, Brooke. Please be okay. I’m trying... I’m really trying, I sobbed out loud to the child version of my sister.

I will find you.

I returned to the search by dumping out Brooke’s backpack and looking in the closet and her bedside table. There wasn’t anything under her mattress or even in the legs of the bed, which was our childhood hiding spot. I picked through the clothing and books on the floor and even put some of them away. But there wasn’t anything here that gave me a clue of where my sister