by Harper Shaw
Never Forget
A Thriller Novel
Harper Shaw
Contents
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
About the Author
Description
There’s a mysterious killer on the loose, murdering my friends… and now he’s coming for me.
Rebecca Morgan’s a good detective with bad luck and a tragic past. Her superiors were prepared to overlook her drinking and surliness—to a point.
Now, she’s on leave until she recovers from her alcoholism and her life takes another turn for the worse. She’s been summoned back to her hometown of Harker Heights to give a deposition on a high school friend’s tragic—and mysterious—death.
Rebecca and her old circle of friends struggle to keep their dark, communal secret, a secret which could make them lose everything they hold dear.
Until a mysterious, shrouded figure begins slaughtering them one-by-one.
Rebecca must uncover the truth while fighting the urge to climb into a bottle. The Shroud knows all her secrets, all of her sins. If she can’t unmask the killer before it’s too late…
She just might be their next victim.
Can Rebecca escape the shackles of past failure and the twisted corridors of her own mind and save her own life?
Homecomings can be Hell.
Chapter One
Can you just stop? Rebecca thought to the passenger next to her. Seated on the beige leather seat of a small shuttle, she tried not to glare too rudely, though the glare in and of itself was meant to show him how rude he was being.
The stout man next to her annoyed her for two reasons. One, half of his fat ass was in her seat. And two, he was chugging a bottle of liquor, and watching the yellow liquid empty into his belly and trickle down his chin was making her anxious.
She’d thought the look she had been giving him for the past twelve minutes would have done something for his conscience, but the man hadn’t noticed a thing. The only time he’d looked at her was when he boarded.
Reaching into the right pocket of her pants, she clutched her chip. Thirty days sober and counting. Maybe she was mad at the guy because she wanted to ask for a swig, but she knew she couldn’t (shouldn’t?). Either way, she was stuck with him until they got to Triple H airport, so she tried to distract herself with the newspaper she’d bought before getting on the shuttle.
Still, she found herself licking her lips and glancing over at him. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until they pulled up to the airport, and Rebecca soon detached herself from that malt smell and half-sweaty seat. She left the paper behind for the next passenger who needed a mental diversion.
To convince herself that not asking for a swig was the right thing to do, she took her thirty-day chip from her pocket again. It was half bronze and half gold, though she liked to think it was gold more of the time than it was bronze. TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE, it said, along with 1 MONTH RECOVERY. A small bit of pride swirled in her chest as she put it back.
“I can do this,” Rebecca said. She took a breath in and blew it out. And then off she was, walking toward the bag checking area while tugging her large, rolling suitcase behind her. Nervous about losing her chip, she considered slipping her it in the front pocket of the case but decided against it and instead stuck it into her carry-on.
As she heaved her case onto the scale, she crossed her fingers. Slowly, and after much deliberation, the scale settled at exactly fifty pounds. It teetered at 50.1 for a moment but went back down as soon as it had gone up. “Perfect,” she muttered.
“Yep, perfect. I can tell you there have been some people not as lucky as you today.” Chuckling, the man behind the station nodded and gripped his belt. He then wrapped her bag handle with a sticker and gave her another before settling her suitcase on the conveyor belt. “Have a good flight, ma’am.”
“You, too,” Rebecca answered, leaving. She cursed herself as she headed to go through security and realized the guy wasn’t going on a flight or anything. Despite it, she powered through the security and even made a quick bathroom break before heading off to board her flight.
As she got to her gate, she saw nearly everyone appeared to have boarded. There were just two lingering businessmen, furiously smoking while the boarding attendant waited. Rebecca grinned at the men as she passed them. Ever since the airlines had banned smoking on flights a year ago, you’d spot these fiends at the gates, trying to get as much nicotine into their system as possible before they boarded.
Some part of her wished they’d ban booze on flights, next. Despite the crackdown on indoor smoking the country had gotten so zealous about as it headed into the 90s, alcohol continued to be available everywhere. Didn’t seem fair.
After she found her way to her seat and settled in, Rebecca saw that most of the plane seemed to already be seated. She had a middle seat that she had been dreading—even more so after her experience on the shuttle. But seeing no one in the seats beside her gave her some hope.
“Oh, you got an empty row today!” the voice sounded from seemingly nowhere.
Turning around swiftly, Rebecca met with the bright brown eyes of one of the flight attendants. The woman had taffeta skin with a glowing, almost plastic, beauty. If she didn’t have a slight slouch, Rebecca would have thought she was a robot.
“Hello! I’m Tracy,” the flight attendant said, introducing herself.
“Hi… Rebecca…” She wasn’t sure if people were supposed to introduce themselves to flight attendants, but it seemed like the right direction to go since the flight attendant had introduced herself first.
“The weather is so nice out. Isn’t it?”
“Sure.” Really, it looked like it was drizzling to Rebecca, but she wasn’t interested in saying such. “So, um, you said I have this row to myself? No one else is coming.”
“Not according to my chart, no. Oh, you’re having a lucky day. Aren’t you?”
“Something like that, I guess.”
“You know, I usually try not to bother passengers too much—some are a bit nervous and others like to start their in-flight naps—but I just had to come talk to you. Your boots are to die for! Where’d you get them?”
“Um… I think I bought them at JC Penny’s, nowhere special. I’m not really into fashion.”
“Really? It’s just—You’re so stylish, Becky. Can I call you Becky?”
“Yeah, sure. Call me Becky.” She usually went by Rebecca, Becks on the force.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been called Becky, if ever.
“So, Becky, where are you from?”
“Oh, I’m from Hilton Head. I used to live there. My parents still do, but I moved away after graduation.”
“To here in El Paso?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s so cool! I’m from here. You could call me a born-and-raised Texan!” She let out an airy chuckle. “Well, it’s not the holidays or anything. So, what is bringing you back to Hilton Head?”
“I think I’m getting sued.”
“Oh.” The flight attendant took a step back. “I’m sorry. That’s too bad, Becky. I hope you get everything sorted out. I should leave you alone now. The flight is about to take off anyway.” Walking away, the flight attendant finally left Rebecca.
If Rebecca had known that all she had to do was say she was getting sued to get that woman to go away, she would have done it much, much sooner. Sinking further into the cushion of her seat, she tried to relax. To see if anyone was in front of her or behind her, she lifted her head over her seat for a moment but saw no one. Planes this empty weren’t the norm, but she wasn’t complaining.
Rolling her shoulders back and closing her eyes, Rebecca decided she wanted a relaxing flight. And even more than wanting it, she deserved it. That was what she told herself anyway. A sinking feeling messed with her stomach whenever the plane first took off, but it left her pretty quickly. That didn’t mean sleep would find her during the flight, though. In fact, it didn’t. Her mind was too busy racing to stop and smell the roses or let her get a nap in.
By the time she might have been about to drift off, she heard the plane beeping and the voice of one of the other flight attendants booming through the speakers. Welcome to Hilton Head, everyone! We’re here! Please stay seated until the light goes off. Thank you!
After swallowing and biting back a groan, Rebecca slowly opened her eyes to the harsh lights of the plane. She had kept her shades on and eyes closed the entire flight, so a little burn was to be expected. Stretching her neck one way and the other, she eventually turned toward the aisle.
Her thumb rubbed the surface of her chip while she waited for the rest of the passengers to get out. Once the stream of people had stopped, she did the same, not without a pitying smile of the flight attendant she’d seen before along with various smirks and intrigued gazes from the other attendants. She must have told them all, not that Rebecca cared.
“Becky,” the flight attendant said, taking Rebecca’s hands into hers before Rebecca could get off the plane. She leaned over and gave a hearty smile. “Listen, I hope you figure things out and end up having a great trip. Enjoy the time with your parents!”
“I will…” She struggled for the flight attendant’s name. “...Tracy. I will. Thank you.” With that, Rebecca exited the plane and headed down to the terminal, ready to get her bags. She sort of hoped her parents had forgotten about her so she could take a cab home. To her dismay, however, they were at the terminal to meet her.
“Rebecca!” her mother shrieked, running the couple of yards to meet Rebecca and smushing her into a tight hug.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Rebecca’s father said, right behind. He wrapped her in a side hug, a smirk on the side of his face showing he felt he had done a better job than her mother.
“How are you, sweetie?” Rebecca’s mother asked, braiding her hand into Rebecca’s as they headed to baggage claim.
“I’m good,” Rebecca answered.
“How’s work? Do you still like it there? I hate how you’ve moved so far away.”
“It’s not that far, Mom. Obviously, I’m only a plane ride away.”
“But when you were a little girl, you always talked about living next door to us here in Hilton Head…” Her mother sent a sly smile her way.
“I was like four, Mom.”
“Wait, you didn’t tell me. How’s work?”
“Fine.” Rebecca answered as curtly as possible. Currently, the department had Rebecca on furlough while she dealt with her alcohol recovery, but that wasn’t something her parents needed to know about. If they found out, she’d never hear the end of it.
“Wonderful! And your friends? How are your friends?” Luckily, Rebecca’s mother always moved on pretty quickly, too busy firing off questions and fussing over her to listen or get actual answers.
You’ll survive, Rebecca told herself, only half believing it.
Chapter Two
Rebecca looked around at her old room.
Her parents hadn’t changed it at all. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if they had dusted in here since she left.
If they had, it was a long time ago.
Rebecca abandoned her suitcase onto the bed. At least there was no dust on the bed. In fact, it looked like her mother had even washed the sheets and duvet prior to her arrival.
That was nice of her.
Rebecca turned in a slow circle, looking at the posters of old bands on the wall. The bookshelf still had her high school textbooks, and her shelves still held the same pictures as they did the day she’d left Hilton Head.
She didn’t want these memories. They barged in, uninvited and eerily clear due to sobriety. Sitting on the bed, she grabbed the face-down picture from the nightstand—the one she had loved until a few days before she’d left Hilton Head.
The one that she had smashed angrily onto the top of the nightstand, shattering the glass.
The Beach Heads.
That’s what she had called the group of friends she used to hang out with all the time in high school.
She stared at all of them now as they had been almost a decade ago, in all their 1980 glory. Jennifer, her best friend—tall blonde and athletic—smiled at the camera and clutched a beaming Rebecca close to her. Bruce, Jennifer’s then-boyfriend, had been forcing himself into the frame, trying to get closer to Jennifer than she wanted him to be.
Bruce had always had a creepy somewhat possessive vibe. In fact, Jennifer had broken up with him shortly after the picture had been taken. The cop in Rebecca knew why as soon as she saw the picture. He was pretending to look at the camera, but there was a sidelong glance to Jennifer, looking right down her shirt.
On Rebecca’s other side, wearing a ‘Blondie’ t-shirt, was Monica.
As soon as Rebecca saw her, the tears rushed in, hot and fast. That smiling face, the one that all of this revolved around, stuck in Rebecca’s mind. The picture hadn’t changed. Monica’s face hadn’t changed.
Green eyes, brown hair and dimples. She had her arm around Rebecca as they smiled at the camera. Their whole futures lay ahead of them.
Because nothing bad can happen in high school. They had been invincible.
Beside Monica, Bad Chad smiled and looked at her with complete love and devotion. The captain of the football team, Chad had been ripped in high school. And yet, his entire life (outside football) had been about Monica.
Dennis, then a superstar swimmer, stood behind them all, wrapping them in a tight hug with his long swimmers’ arms. She remembered those arms well.
Memories were all she had of the Beach Heads. They’d been almost inseparable in high school, yet Rebecca hadn’t spoken to any of them in the last ten years.
Tears fell from her cheeks onto the picture as Rebecca sat heavily on the bed.
Monica drew her eye, just as Monica always had. Her broken heart would never be mended. There was no closure in Hilton Head.
Instead, there was darkness and death.
“Rebecca!” her mother called from downstairs. “It’s dinner!”
“Pull yourself together,” she chided herself. Standing, she put the picture on her desk as far away from the bed as she possibly could. Then she knocked it so it was face down on the desk.
She didn’t need to see that every time she woke up.
Sniffling a little, she decided that face down on the desk wasn’t good enough. Without looking at it, she opened her closet and placed the picture on the top shelf.
Closing the closet behind her, Rebecca felt the tension in her chest ease.
Breathing slowly, she clutched the chip in her pocket.
All she wanted was alcohol. A lot of it.
Especially to get through dinner with her parents.
“Rebecca!” her mother called again, now annoyed at the silence. “It’s dinner!”
“Coming!” Rebecca called down the stairs. “Just going to wash up.”
A quick trip to the washroom had her splashing water on her face and looking like she hadn’t just been bawling her eyes out.
Which was good enough.
It was midafternoon, so she hoped her parents had too much valium and wine already to notice that something was wrong. One thing that Rebecca knew, unequivocally, was that she did not want to talk to her parents about any of this.
She made her way downstairs to the smell of lasagna. Stomach grumbling, she sat at her old space at the table like she’d never left.
It was crazy, what behaviors were ingrained. A person could deny their parents and forget their upbringing yet sit in the same spot as always after a decade without thinking about it.
Her mother busied herself in the kitchen and her father sat at the head of the table, finishing the daily paper.
Nope. Nothing had changed.
Not in a decade. Probably not ever.
