21- It was her

21- It was her

CLAIRE

I still tried looking for the woman
But by the time I reached the middle of the town, my thoughts were a storm. The buildings leaned in close on both sides, their windows black except for the glow spilling from one shop near the center.

The bookshop.Of course.

Evan.

If there was anyone who’d listen, anyone who’d help me make sense of this, it was him.

The bell above the door gave its soft ring as I pushed inside.

Warmth immediately wrapped around me. The air smelled of roasted beans and books. A jazz record spun lazily in the background, all slow saxophone and soft brushes on cymbals.

This was Calder Books—the kind of place that made you forget the world outside existed.

Evan was behind the counter,he had a mug in one hand, a book in the other. His reading glasses were perched low on his nose, but he slid them off as soon as he saw me.

“City girl. Long time no see” His brow lifted. “You look like you fought the pavement. And lost.”

“Close enough,” I muttered.

He set the mug down and leaned forward with hands resting on the counter. “Do I want to hear the story, or is this one of those cases where the less I know, the safer I’ll sleep?”

“I don’t think anyone’s sleeping safe tonight.”

Something in my tone must’ve cut through, because immediately his expression changed.

“What happened?” he asked.

I dropped the notebook onto the counter between us. It hit with a dull slap.

“I know I am an outsider and we're not exactly close
But I need you, I know nothing about this town” I said. “Just—listen, alright?”

He gave a small nod. “You’ve got my attention.”

So I told him. Every word.

The fall against the wall. The walk to clear my head that had gone sideways. The woman stumbling out of the dark and her eyes burning like she’d seen things no one else could.

The tide charts. The spirals. Her panic, her warning. The way she shoved the notebook at me, then ran as if the shadows themselves chased her.

Through it all, Evan didn’t interrupt. He didn’t try to calm me or question me. He just listened. his eyes were sharp in that way that reminded me he used to make a living cutting through lies in a courtroom.

When I finished, silence went on for a while. And only the jazz record sounded faintly in the background.

Finally, I asked, “Do you know her? Anyone like that?”

Evan shook his head slowly. “No. Doesn’t sound like anyone I’ve seen.”

“You’re sure?”

“Claire.” His voice was calm, even. “A woman talking about the tide,eyes wide like she’s staring into the abyss? She sounds crazy. Trust me. I’d remember.”

I cursed under my breath and dragged a hand through my hair. “Damn it.”

Evan picked up the notebook, flipping it open carefully. His eyes moved over the pages, the tide charts, the frantic handwriting, the spirals carved so deep the paper nearly tore.

“AP nights,” he read aloud. “Maintenance channel. Spirals. Hm.” He glanced up. “Charming light reading.”

“Evan—”

“Relax,” he said mildly, holding up a hand. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m just… thinking.”

I leaned against the counter “I have to find her. She knows something. I could feel it. The way she spoke—this wasn’t just paranoia.”

“Or,” Evan said, closing the notebook with a soft snap, “it was exactly paranoia. And you just happened to be the one unlucky soul she decided to unload it on.”

“You didn’t see her,” I shot back. “You didn’t hear her voice. She was terrified. Someone took her son, Evan. Or husband, or whoever he was. She said they took him when the tide went out. That’s not random.”

He studied me for a long moment. Then, instead of arguing, he asked, “What did she look like? Exactly.”

“Mid-forties, maybe older. Hair dark, tangled. Wrinkled coat, buttoned wrong. Thin. Eyes like—” I faltered. “Like she was burning from the inside out.”

He shook his head again. “Doesn’t ring a bell. And I’d know. You’re not exactly describing someone who blends in.”

The disappointment sank in like cold water. I’d hoped, stupidly, that he’d give me a name. A thread. Something. Instead, all I had was the notebook and the gnawing certainty that this woman mattered.

I rubbed my temples. “I can’t let this go. She knows something, Evan. I know she does.”

“You sound convinced,” he said quietly.

“I am.”

He leaned back ,he had a thoughtful expression on“Alright then. Let’s assume you’re right. She knows something important, and she trusted you enough to hand this over. The real question is—why you?”

The words hit harder than I expected. I hadn’t let myself think about it.

“Maybe I was just there,” I said weakly.

“Claire,” Evan said, “people don’t shove their deepest secrets into the hands of strangers ‘just because they’re there.’ She chose you. The ‘why’ matters.”

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words never came.

Then I heard it.

First, it wad just distant mumurs. A sound that didn’t belong, like the quiet before a storm. Then it grew closer to the bookstore.

There was a commotion.

Evan said to me “Do you hear that?”

I nodded, my stomach tightening. “Yeah.”

We moved toward the door together. The bell above jingled faintly as we stepped outside, but its sound wss swallowed almost immediately by the growing noise.

The square was no longer empty. People had gathered near the end of the street. They were a small crowd pressed together. Their voices were filled with confusion. Their faces were pale,almost like they were on the edge of panicking.

The little fragments of their words drifted to

“…she’s gone…”
“…found by the pier…”
“…God, the blood…”

My chest tightened until it felt like it would stop me from breathing.

“No.”

The word escaped me before I could stop it. I shook my head, whispering it again, almost hoping it would not be true. “No… no…”

Evan’s hand brushed against my arm "Claire—”

I didn’t need to get closer to hear the details. I didn’t need to push through the throng of people I could feel it in my bones.

It was her.

The woman from the street. The one I was supposed to find.

“Evan,” I said, my voice was filled with determination . “We have to go. To the pier. I need to see—need to know for myself.”