Half In Love With Death (26 page)

May cocked her head. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” I looked away. The sand was neither yellow nor white nor sprinkled with magic pink flowers, as I might have described it when I was younger. It was brown with purple shadows, gravel, and here and there a bleached-out cactus that reminded me of old fish bones. The desert went on and on, no one part of it distinguishable from another. In the distance, I saw something jutting up out of the sand. My body tensed as I walked toward it. All I could think of was a sneaker, dirty and untied, a sneaker that belonged to my sister. When I reached it though, it turned out to be just a rock.

I heard May and Sheila calling me, but I didn't turn. As I held the rock in my hand, I thought again of that voice in the night. Was the one thing that I'd dismissed as a dream the only thing that had actually been real? I pictured Jess, squinting at me, still wanting me to find her. Her fingers must have trembled as she stuffed the white shoe in her purse. She must have wanted to start a new life, but there was something she had to do first. She had to show the shoe to Tony that night. She had to confront him with what he'd done. When she said, “Would you,” she was probably going to say something about the shoe, but I'd never know for sure. She must have told Tony she'd left the other one with me and that if he harmed her, his secret would be revealed. I imagined her screaming in his car as he drove her home, just as Billy had described it. And when he dropped her off out front to get the shoe, she must have changed her mind, and told him she was going to call the police. He blocked her way. And then she ran from him screaming, down the street and into the desert, her feet slipping in the sand, stumbling on the stones.

I dropped the rock and turned around. The brown scrub stretched as if to the edges of the earth. The sun was low in the sky. The cactus plants were rimmed with light. Everything was as it appeared to be.

“Caroline,” May called out, “smile.” I did, and she snapped my picture.

Writing this novel was a long journey, but not a lonely one. Many people helped me along the way.

I am incredibly grateful to my agent, Rebecca Podos, for her steadfast belief in my novel, for understanding my story (sometimes better than I did), and for guiding me through revisions with her editorial wisdom. A huge thank you to my editor, Jacquelyn Mitchard, for her faith in my book and wonderful insights, to my copyeditor, Arin Murphy-Hiscock, for helping me to get my book through the home stretch, and to all the talented individuals at F+W Media/Merit Press for making this book a reality.

For starting me on this journey, thank you to my sister, Susanna Burns, who suggested I take a look at an old
LIFE
magazine article about the Pied Piper of Tucson, the case that became the inspiration for my book, and thanks for her continuing inspiration, encouragement, and creative ideas.

Enormous gratitude to my writing group—Kathleen Gibson, Elizabeth Esse Kahrs, Kate Leary, and Leslie Teel—for always providing the reassurance, and honest, insightful feedback I needed.

I feel very fortunate to be part of GrubStreet's community of writers, and am especially thankful for GrubStreet's Novel Incubator program. I am immensely grateful to my Novel Incubator instructors, or rather novel-whisperers, Lisa Borders and Michelle Hoover, for sharing their knowledge and passion for writing, and for believing in my novel with a faith that has sustained me on this journey. I am deeply grateful as well to the incubees (my Novel Incubator classmates), Belle Brett, Amber Elias, Jack Ferris, Kelly Ford, Marc Foster, E.B. Moore, R.J. Taylor, Rob Wilstein, and Jennie Wood, for their encouragement and careful reads, and to all the Incubator alums for their ongoing support and friendship.

A warm thank you to the Massachusetts Cultural Council for the finalist award in fiction.

Juggling writing a novel with a full-time job and a family isn't easy, and I am grateful to my family for supporting my writing during this sometimes trying process. I'd like to thank my husband, Dave, for sharing my enthusiasm as I rambled on about my book, and for helping me make time for writing. Thank you to my son, Tom, for boosting my spirits with his exuberant and contagious love of the written word, and for assisting me with coming up with a pitch for my story. Special thanks to my daughter, Julianne, for reading an early draft, and for helping me polish my book right up to the end by giving me hours of her incredible editorial expertise.

My parents didn't live to see my book in print, but I am forever grateful to them for providing me with a home filled with a love of literature, teaching me to value creativity by the example of their own lives as artists, and for encouraging my writing.

Copyright © 2016 by Emily Ross.

All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

Published by

Merit Press

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

www.meritpressbooks.com

ISBN 10: 1-4405-8903-8

ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8903-4

eISBN 10: 1-4405-8904-6

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8904-1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Many of the designations used by manufacturers and sellers to distinguish their products are claimed as trademarks. Where those designations appear in this book and F+W Media, Inc. was aware of a trademark claim, the designations have been printed with initial capital letters.

Cover design by Frank Rivera.

Cover image © Shutterstock/Aleshyn_Andrei.