The Vanishing Girls by Callie Browning (great novels of all time .txt) 📗

Eileen shook off the excess flecks of mud and leaves before she held up the paper and spotted the flashlight on it. In the upper right corner was an ad almost identical to the one she had found with Anna’s belongings except this one was seeking a receptionist. It listed a different telephone number and the date on the newspaper was almost two weeks earlier. Holden stood behind her and read over her shoulder. He exhaled loudly and said, “This is odd; the number is different and so is the job description.” To further complicate matters, the number’s prefix indicated that it was in an entirely different part of the island to the original phone number. Her blood ran cold as she looked at him. Was it was possible that more than one killer was at play?

They got back in the car and sat in silence, both of them wearing worried expressions on their faces. Holden’s mouth was pressed in a grim line as he stared into the darkness. Eileen stared through the windshield, considering how easily she may have come into contact with a murderer during her first week on the job.

“I could have been one of these girls,” she said softly.

Holden turned to look at her, his face questioning.

Her chin trembled as she said, “I saw an ad the day after you made me dig the grave.” Tears welled up in her eyes and spilt over her lashes and down her cheeks. “I was going to call.”

Holden clenched his jaw in anger. “What if something had happened to you?”

The tears came faster as Eileen’s heart rate sped up and she said, “But I didn’t realize a murderer was running ads.”

Holden was flabbergasted. “I thought you liked being at the funeral home.”

“Being there?” Eileen was flustered. “It’s not a hobby, it’s minimum wage work. It’s fine for now…but I don’t want to work there forever.”

He went quiet then, his face pained as though she had hit him.

She wasn’t sure why but the look on his face only made Eileen cry more.

* * *

HOLDEN BARELY SLEPT THAT NIGHT. After Eileen had dropped him off, he flipped through magazines, wandered the corridors and eventually ended up in bed watching shadows move across the ceiling. He didn’t care for the uneasiness that coursed through him whenever Eileen was around, the subtle anxiety that ground away at his nerves as he wondered if she knew how he felt about her. It was times like these when he missed his father most. Holden had done his best with the business, avoiding foreclosure despite Paul’s fiscal ineptitude, but he was out of his depth in figuring out how to manage his affection for an employee.

Holden thought back to the night he met Eileen, remembering her cheeky responses for everything he said. He sighed, finally admitting to himself that from the time he laid eyes on her, he knew he was attracted to her. If he could turn back time, he would have told her that the post had been filled, but perhaps they could go out for a nice meal instead. It would have been far less gut-wrenching than seeing her almost every day and missing her every night.

Holden had hoped she would find the job too macabre, too daunting and eventually resign. In his dreams, he imagined Eileen winking at him before suggesting that he take her out for dinner. Then, their romance would begin. He imagined her teasing him about it in later years, chuckling with mild deference as Eileen served tea on the great house’s wide verandah.

He cursed under his breath. Instead of fulfilling his fantasy of spending his life with Eileen, his antics had nearly driven her straight to the edge of a mad man’s knife. All because he didn’t want Clifford to believe Eileen was getting special treatment. He hadn’t planned to make Eileen dig the graves, but Clifford had shown up with the shovels that night and Holden was too embarrassed to admit that he didn’t want to make her do it.

It had irked him to make her undertake such laborious work, but he sometimes felt like Clifford was watching him in his father’s stead. Many times, that feeling of perpetual supervision caused him to overcompensate, overriding knee-jerk reactions in favour of sound business principles. Mostly, it augured well. But not with Eileen.

Holden regarded Clifford as an uncle and he felt a distinct shame at the thought of the older man realizing that he was attracted to Eileen. Holden sighed and rubbed his eyes, telling himself that daylight would bring the answers he so desperately needed.

* * *

HOLDEN WALKED TO THE PARLOUR early the next morning, intent on putting his restless mind to good use instead of roaming the halls of the great house like a forlorn ghost. It was just after seven when he let himself into the building which meant he’d have a whole hour to do the book-keeping before everyone arrived. He pulled out his ledgers and balanced the columns, writing neatly on the lined pages. He always found book-keeping to be calming and stable; there was no grey area; things were either an expense or income. Less than an hour later, he heard the key turning in the lock.

“Morning, boss. Why you in so early?” Clifford asked as he traipsed into the kitchen to start the kettle.

“Morning. I’m catching up on some book-keeping,” replied Holden distractedly as he transcribed figures from a stack of bills into the ledger.

Clifford came out of the kitchen and sat on the edge of Holden’s desk. “Ain’t see you come in this early since business was slow.”

Holden stopped short and looked up at Clifford. “Meaning?”

“That I know you since you were a little sprat. You work late when you got things to do; you come in early when something’s bothering you.”

Holden turned back to his ledgers and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nothing is bothering me.”

Clifford rubbed his chin. “That probably means it’s