One Last Breath by Sarah Sutton (speld decodable readers txt) 📗

feeling of detachment from John intensify. She had never met Anthony before. She had heard John mention him once or twice, but she had no idea that he played music with him as well.

“You want to get out of here?” John finally asked. “You look tired.” She was. The day’s events had been exhausting. But she knew John was just trying to change the subject.

“I really wish I could’ve been here, John. You know I would’ve if I could.”

John heaved another sigh. “I know. That’s what you always say.” A silence fell around them as guilt swirled in Tara’s gut. He stared into the distance a moment, as if contemplating what to say. His eyes then turned again to Tara. “I know your job is more important. It’s just frustrating how hard it is to make plans with you sometimes, but I’ll get over it.”

He forced a smile. Tara was left without words. She didn’t know what more to say. She knew that with her job, she couldn’t promise him anything, and he knew it too. “Let’s go home,” he finally said as he placed his arm around Tara’s waist. She nodded, letting him guide her through the sea of people toward the door. But all Tara could think about was what Warren had said, and her stomach twisted into a knot. She knew it was only a matter of time before she disappointed John on something bigger. As she stepped out into the summer air, she wondered, what was his limit?

***

Tara sat in the living room, flicking through channels. John had already gone to bed. They didn’t speak much more about her missing his show. They both knew there was nothing more to say. It was a reality they both had to accept—that Tara couldn’t always be there. He had finally detailed how it went, that they had nailed every song, and the tension had eased between them. It made Tara feel better, but she also knew it was only a matter of time before the same issue would resurface. For now, though, she buried the feeling.

She hadn’t even had a chance to digest the day’s events, and the more she thought about Ben Ford, the more something didn’t sit right within her. She knew he looked guilty, but something about his demeanor made her wonder if he wasn’t the person they’d been looking for. He seemed too nervous. He was rash in his reaction to take the memory card from Tara. He didn’t seem clever. He hadn’t thought out his actions. The broken hard drive, Tara thought. He hadn’t even bothered to hide the pieces. It was a messy attempt to destroy evidence. Yes, he might not have had time, but the killer seemed cleverer than that.

Tara placed the remote down. She couldn’t watch what was on TV. She was too focused fleshing out every thought. She remembered their original findings: no sign of struggle. Her and Warren had theorized that the victims went willingly, but why would they get into a car with Ben Ford? He wasn’t well known in the community. He wasn’t even charming or handsome. It seemed unlikely that a teenage girl would accept a ride from him.

The thoughts rolled around in her head until one struck her full-force. What if he really is being framed? It seemed like a far-fetched idea, but if it were true, it was clever, and it was exactly the type of cleverness she’d expect from this killer. Tara’s thoughts ran wild, but as her questioning grew, so did her concern that she was getting ahead of herself. She had already taken a step too far on her last case. She was lucky that she was right and kept her job and her life, but what if this time she was wrong? She couldn’t bear the thought of losing it all. If she went off on her own, Reinhardt would not be as forgiving. And if she were being honest with herself, the thought of putting herself in danger all over again, without backup, terrified her.

Warren knows what he’s doing, she told herself. She needed to learn to trust the people around her, and at that thought she lay down on the couch. She focused on the TV, but as she pushed each new theory away, her mind swirled into a cloud of exhaustion, and before she even had the thought to head to bed, she drifted off into sleep.

***

Tara stared out into the vast ocean, the waves crashing on her bare feet, pushing sand between her toes. She smiled as the warm sun beat on her back and at the sound of children playing on the beach and in the water.

“Tara!” she heard behind her, and she spun around, to see John moving toward her, his hair whipping wildly in the wind. The beach was packed, and John weaved around towels and umbrellas, around people enjoying the day, until he stood aside her and reached out a hand. She grabbed hold of it. It felt warm, a warmth more radiant than the sun. He pulled her forward. “Come on!” he said as he playfully pulled her toward the water. She hesitated because she knew it would be cold, but then she heard another voice call her name, this time out in the water.

“Tara!” she heard, over and over. It was a woman’s voice, and as she gazed out into the sea of people, she could see her mother bobbing amongst them.

“Mom,” Tara said under her breath. She didn’t understand. She looked toward John. He spotted her too. He was staring at her, waving, smiling, and then gave Tara’s hand another playful tug. “Let’s go,” he said as he led her into the water. She walked forward, letting him guide her as the cold water rose up her legs, the warmth escaping her body. She didn’t like it; she longed for the warmth, but at each step her mother was closer, and she ached