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his week.

FIVE
    ALLIE
    2016
    The same everything remained, Allie marveled, as the ocean breeze caught strands of her hair. They’d driven the highway hugging the Georgia coast into Brunswick, taking Newcastle Street along the train tracks as soft light trickled through the trees, bathing the afternoon in muted shades of forest green and amber. Allie gazed out the window, resting her chin on one hand. She caught a glimpse of Selden Park, and then Brunswick Landing Marina, where the white masts of dozens of sailboats bobbed through the trees. The sight made her heart swell. How she had missed the unspoiled beauty of the area, the maritime forests and pristine shoreline. She could almost taste the salt air.
    Allie searched for something to fill the silence. “So, still lots of tourists here for spring break?”
    Emma slid her sister a sideways look. “I don’t know if they can fit another golfer on Sea Island. I was lucky enough to have dinner in the Georgian Room at The Cloister last week. Oh my goodness, I never wanted to leave.”
    Allie sat up straighter. She could have fresh shrimp again. Oysters, scallops, and red snapper. All of it, straight from the ocean, caught off the barrier islands around Brunswick. Sea Island, Jekyll Island, St. Simons Island, and Little St. Simons Island made up the four Golden Isles, named for the gold-seeking Spanish explorers who arrived in the territory four centuries earlier.
    In town, she and Emma passed the three-story Ritz Theater, with a new neon sign hanging from the front façade. At night, her sister said, the letters glowed gold and could be seen from blocks away. They turned left on Gloucester, continuing past the downtown shops and restaurants. She strained to see more of what she’d missed, reading signs and looking into store windows.
    Allie drew in a breath at the sight of a Wolverines poster. Football fever was always in season. In Georgia, the sport was like blood and oxygen, sustenance for living. It was all anyone talked about.
    For a stranger, a quick drive through downtown would prove Brunswick’s devotion to the gridiron. Banners hung on every corner, each proclaiming “Home of the Mighty Wolverines” or “Wolverine Spoken Here.” Spirit signs appeared in front lawns every August, each bearing a player’s name, position, and jersey number. Most cars and trucks sported at least one black-and-silver football sticker.
    For Allie, it was a reminder of the past. Of the man who was responsible for putting her in Arrendale, the man whose face filled her nightmares. She shivered, thinking about the sheriff.
    To the best of her knowledge, he was still involved in Mansfield Academy—still hanging out on the football fields during practice and on the sidelines during Friday night games. Every time he was on the school’s campus, he had access to Caroline.
    Until now, there had been absolutely nothing she could do about it.
    Her sister rolled to a gentle stop and parked, the hum of the idle engine blending with the pulse of the fading day. They had stopped in front of a tiny little house on a quiet street, just a short walk from the Marshes of Glynn Park and Fancy Bluff Creek. Allie imagined walking near the marshes again, fragrant with sea air, watching egrets and herons fly about the rustling tall cordgrass and needlerush.
    Emma interrupted her daydream.
    “Mom and Dad said to go ahead in,” her sister said, handing her the key from the glove box. “They said they’d be here in a bit, since they didn’t exactly know what time we’d get back. No way to predict, right?”
    “Right.” Allie swallowed, folding her fingers around the metal edges.
    “Good luck,” Emma said with a half smile, casting her eyes toward the house. Her fingers tapped at her knee. “With everything.”
    “Thanks,” Allie replied. She pulled the car door handle, swung her legs to the ground, and stood up. She stretched, feeling her spine pop and her neck loosen.
    “So, let’s do