Adermoor Cove: Dissolved Girl - 1. Chapter 1

The tourists had finally left the island of Adermoor Cove in the wake of autumn. Though there were some who would never say so out loud, of the townsfolk who lived on the island year round, many were glad to have the town to themselves. Walking up the steps of the courthouse, Carlos Santino could sense the shift: the lack of traffic, the bored looks on the faces of shop owners and seasonal sales, the change of colors in the leaves. The town had been stripped bare to its foundation, its true self.

Autumn leaves scraped across the concrete path leading up to the double doors. Martha Vinyard, one of the receptionists, sat on a nearby bench with her vaper. She smiled at Carlos in greeting. “How’s it going, Sheriff?” she said.

“Doing good. Enjoying your break?”

“Yep, getting ready to go back in.” She rolled her eyes. “Got a meeting with the mayor?”

“Yeah.” Carlos shrugged casually, as if it was all no big thing. “Just ironing out the kinks of the new job.”

“You’ll do fine. Being a cop, it’s in your blood.”

Carlos frowned inwardly but kept smiling. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Martha. Have a good day.”

The smile died as soon as he was in the building, out of sight. It’s in your blood. Everyone in town was acting like him taking the position of Sheriff was exactly what they expected him to do since Enzo Santino, his father, had been Sheriff. In truth the idea of taking the job had scared the shit out of him - he was still scared. Enzo had done a great deal more than just upholding the law, he’d covered the truth up as well, subjected to the bidding of the mayor. Now Carlos would have to do the same.

It was because of one person he’d taken the job, one person he’d come to realize he would do anything for.

While he sat in the waiting area, waiting for the mayor to call him into his office, Carlos checked his phone to see if Lane Hardy might have texted him. No, why would he? he thought, hating the way his heart sank with disappointment. He’s got his own crap he has to take care of. Honestly, what crap could a twenty-four-year-old who had just inherited millions of dollars have to take care of? He was probably back at the lighthouse, sleeping on the sofa.

Carlos hated himself for feeling insecure. You’re the Sheriff, and your almost in your forties for Christ’s sake! Pull yourself together!

But his fingers were scrolling through the contact lists of their own accord. There were only a few names on the phone, so it didn’t take him long to reach Lane’s. Do you want to go out to dinner later tonight? he typed. He pressed the SEND button before the second thoughts could kick in.

Mayor Richardson came out of his office fifteen minutes past the time they were supposed to meet. The bangs of his blond hair, slicked back into perfect form, bounced slightly with each step. He smiled, apologizing for making Carlos wait; phone calls and all that. Polite bullshit, is what Carlos thought.

Richardson’s office had a stately cleanliness to it: everything had a polished, in-its-place look without there being anything extravagant. A leather sofa, more for looks than for comfort, a bookshelf with leather bound volumes, a potted fern in the corner over by the window, an oak desk for Richardson to sit at, with a comfortable looking chair; the drapes of the windows were pulled back so Carlos could see the street just outside. He had a perfect view of Jonie’s Icecream Parlor.

“So,” Richardson said, clasping his hands together with cheery fervor, “how does it feel to be sheriff?”

Carlos looked down at his uniform as if realizing he was wearing it for the very first time. Pinned to the pocket was the badge Richardson had given him just a little over a week ago - his father’s badge. Strange was the word that popped into his head. But he knew this was not the answer Richardson was wanting to hear. Their relationship, he sensed, would be about keeping up appearances from now on: that he was happy to be Sheriff and that there was nothing wrong whatsoever with their town.

“I feel honored. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that I was asked to take the position.”

“Well it only makes sense. Not only are you Enzo’s son, his legacy, but you have quite a bit of prestige in Boston as well. You were a homicide detective. Being Sheriff of a small town should be a walk in the park for you.”

He said this as if Adermoor Cove didn’t have its own special set of problems - Adermoor Cove wasn’t like any other place; not in the United States, and probably in the world. This thought, like a tributary, led to the thought of Ramona Sterling, who had been missing for three weeks. Ramona Sterling had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. They’d gone to school together as children, worked on the police department together.

In any other American town the people would have searched high and low for one of their own; posters of the missing person would have been put up on bulletin boards, in the newspaper, and on telephone poles.

But not in Adermoor Cove.

Here, in this town, the people tried to act like these things didn’t happen. Instead of giving Ramona’s abduction the attention she deserved, the people on the island had buried it. No missing posters, no stories in the newspaper. Ramona’s parents had already held the funeral for her, the second funeral in less than a month’s time.

“So,” said Richardson, “there was a matter you said you wanted to discuss.”

Carlos nodded, taking a second to consider the man sitting before him. He didn’t know Richardson as well as he knew the other people in town. As it was, Richardson was not a local, homegrown citizen of the island. In fact he helmed from Portland. Richardson had moved to Adermoor Cove fifteen years ago, where he’d served for ten years on the island’s safety committee. In that time he’d integrated himself well enough to be considered one of Adermoor Cove’s own. He had no wife or children - a bachelor. But as far as his motivations and the secrets lurking behind his eyes, Carlos knew nothing. He only had suspicions.

“Well, i know Oktoberfest is coming up next week,” said Carlos, “and I know everyone in town - myself included - is looking forward to the event.” Speaking for himself this could not be further from the truth, but again he had to keep up the pretenses. “I know Devin Smith and Cynthia Richardson will be patrolling the event but I would like to suggest putting at least two more officers on detail. I’m willing to be one of them.”

Richardson, to Carlos’s surprise, honestly looked astonished. “And why on Earth would we need that?”

Carlos wondered if Richardson knew exactly what was going on or if he was just a really good actor. At the moment it was impossible to do anything more than be suspicious. For the first time since accepting the badge and the title that came with it, he realized he just might be taking on more than what he bargained for. Still, despite the urge to back away before he said something he might regret, Carlos decided to press on.

“After everything that happened this last month I just figured it’s best to be cautious, in case anything goes wrong.”

“Other than a few people having a little too much beer what could possibly go wrong?” the mayor asked innocently. Then he gave Carlos a sympathetic look. “I know after the death of your father and Ramona you’re still going through a lot. Everyone understands. But the animal that killed your friend and father is dead. I think it’s time this town starts putting the pieces back together, don’t you think?”

So he doesn’t know the truth, Carlos thought. Or at least he’s acting like he doesn’t. And the truth was Scott and Anne Sterling had a false funeral. Ramona was still very much alive and very dangerous. She was no longer Ramona, but something else. Something not human.

“Now I’m grateful you respect me enough to feel the need to ask my opinion on this matter,” Richardson was saying, “but you are the chief of police. I don’t want you to feel the need to have to ask me for approval about every little thing. If you want to put a couple more officers on patrol then go ahead. But I really don’t think there will be any need. Is there anything else you feel the need to bring up?”

Carlos grinned as if everything was A-OK. “No that was it. Thank you for your time.”

“No problem, any time.”

They shook hands and Carlos left the courthouse feeling like an idiot. A shadowy feeling of doubt crept up on him. Maybe things would be okay. Maybe there truly was no cause to panic. Maybe it was time to truly move on. But the voice was a lie, like everything else about the island, a wish for things to go back to normal. He recalled the events that had taken place just last week, at the lighthouse, when Lane Hardy’s mother, Nora, had come to Adermoor Cove. Lane was still being tight-lipped about it.

I will put two more men on patrol - just to be safe.

With the decision made he went back to the cruiser, parked in the spot reserved for police. Just as he was about to get in the car, his phone vibrated once.

It was a text from Lane.

Sure:) it said.

Well, Carlos thought with a real, genuine smile, at least there’s one thing to look forward to tonight.

                        …

The last period bell rang, signifying the end of the school day. Students scrambled from their desks, heading for the door, eager to go home. Several were sweet enough to welcome Moira back after almost a month of being absent.

Once the room and the hallway had emptied and silence prevailed, Moira allowed herself to sink into her seat. She felt both exhausted and relieved. Exhausted because it had been one of the longest days of her life. Relieved because she hadn’t realized how much she needed to come back to work until now. For the past few weeks, since Ramona had gone missing, and even more so after her supposed funeral, Moira felt as if her own sense of being had been obliterated. But now she was back in the classroom she felt most of her had come back. Most of her.

She grabbed her purse and was locking the classroom up. Mrs. Keats was doing the same.

"How was your first day back in the teacher's chairs?" Mrs. Keats asked.

"Intense but fulfilling. After three weeks of just sitting around at home."

Mrs. Keats smiled kindly. "I imagine so after everything you've been through. Knowing you it won't be long for you to get back on your feet. You're passionate and the students love you. Honestly, it hasn't been the same here without you."

Moira looked away, both touched and embarrassed. She forced herself to look back at Mrs. Keats. "Thanks for saying so, it means a lot to me. Well, I need to get going. See you Monday."

She walked down the hallway, past the lockers and posters advertising the Halloween dance happening at the end of the month.

Back at the apartment she showered and changed her clothes before getting back into the car. She drove down Donovan Road until she reached Ramona's house.

Three nights ago Moira had braved her way into the house, hoping maybe Ramona might be hiding inside; of course there had been no sign of her lover's presence since the morning she'd been dragged into the woods behind the house. Moira had stood in the kitchen, looking down at the broken glass, and then looked in the fridge at the spoiled milk and produce.

There were no malign spirits in the house, wailing in permanent torment, nor the presence of her possessed girlfriend crouching in the corner, eyes gleaming like black jewels. There were only the nightmarish memories, almost like a dream. I'm moving on, Moira had thought with a clinical detachment. Like Scott and Anne, I've started to give up.

Presently, Moira grabbed the things she needed and then turned away from the house and headed for the woods. She told herself, repeating it over and over, that she would not give up on Ramona - not while there was still a chance she could be saved.

She moved at a steady pace, not stopping to rest. With the days getting shorter and the nights longer she maybe had an hour, hour and a half at most to get to where she wanted to be. She'd brought the most powerful flashlight she could find, tucked away in the duffel bag hanging over her shoulder, but she balked at the idea of shuffling around in the dark. What she was doing was already stupid and dangerous enough. A desperate attempt to prove to herself she had not yet given up on Ramona.

The shadows cast by the trees grew longer, seeming to crowd around her with a creeping sentience. The sun was slipping below the horizon faster and faster. Moira pretended not to feel the rapid pulses of her heart or hear the belittling voice that betrayed her for trekking out into the woods at this time of day.

A cold misty chill weaved its way through the underbrush. The hoodie she'd put over her long sleeved flannel had provided plenty of warmth but was now soaked through with her sweat. Her shoulders and back ached from all she carried: a sleeping bag, tent, and a duffel bag with clothes, blankets and enough provisions to get her through the weekend. Determination and fear of trekking through the dark was the only thing that kept her going.

Ramona would be proud of she could see you now, playing survivalist, Moira thought.

Finally, when she was starting to think she was lost for good, she heard the ocean's waves. She followed the sound, until she reached the spot where Lane had showed her the cave would be. She had just enough light to be able to see while she put up the tent.

By the time she had everything set up her whole body ached with exhaustion. Starving, she ate two granola bars by lamplight. She studied the gun she'd brought with her, the same model of Wesson she'd seen Lane carry on him. The feel of the small gun provided a weighty sense of comfort.

She had no illusions she would be able to bring Ramona back from the tides of darkness through words and loves - though she hoped she could get through to Ramona with the love they shared with one another.

But one way or another she would set her girlfriend free from the evil force that had taken her.