The Vanishing Girls Of Willow Creek (Willow Creek, #1)

Chapter Two

Anam Cara: (n. Gaelic) A person with whom you can share your deepest thoughts, feelings, and dreams with; your soul friend.

I barely remembered falling asleep last night. The next thing I knew, my phone was ringing incessantly.

Groaning, I reached for it on my bedside table.

"Hello?" I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep.

"Harley!" It was Jonathan. His frantic tone jolted me awake.

"Jon?! What's wrong?"

"Are you by a TV?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Turn on the news."

Panic surged through me as I fumbled for the remote. I switched on the TV and quickly scrolled to the news channel.

"Do you see it?" he asked urgently.

"Oh my god."

My heart dropped as the screen filled with breaking news: another disappearance. This time, it was someone I knew. Miranda Hutchins.

Miranda Hutchins was a familiar face in my life, but not one I welcomed.

We had a long, complicated history. She made it her mission to bully me.

But now, as I thought about her family, I felt a pang of sympathy. They were facing the torment of not knowing where she was.

I couldn't imagine the horror of losing sight of your child, even for a moment. That gripping panic would consume anyone. To feel that way for days on end? It must be unbearable.

Then, a strange thought hit me. I didn't remember seeing Miranda at all yesterday. She had always been there, lurking, ready to ruin my day. But now, she was gone.

And it wasn't just yesterday. She hadn't been at school for three days.

"She was reported missing yesterday. Nobody's seen her in three days."

"I was about to say. I've been torment-free for three days, which is a miracle in itself. But if nobody's seen her in three days, why was she only reported missing yesterday?"

"Her parents probably thought she was with Jackson."

Jackson was the star of our school. He was the co-captain of the basketball team, charming, and everyone loved him.

Miranda was stunning and the center of attention. Boys would do anything to get her notice.

Together, they seemed flawless, a picture-perfect couple. But their relationship was a rollercoaster.

Their on-again, off-again relationship was the talk of the town. They would break up, make up, and break up again, each time more dramatic than the last.

Though, when it came to makeups—passionate, heated, and often public.

Their dynamics were volatile. One moment they were laughing, basking in their shared jokes. Next, they were throwing heated words like daggers. The pulls and pushes of their connection were intense, almost magnetic. Townsfolk watched in awe, drawn in by the drama.

"I don't want to jump the gun, but something about this doesn't feel right."

We lived in a small town where everyone knew everyone. My mom's bakery was the heart of the community. Gossip flew around like the aroma of fresh bread. People shared stories as they sipped coffee, and if you didn't know something, you quickly learned it.

Every corner had its own tale. Every whispered conversation felt significant. Someone had to know something about Miranda.

This wasn't just about her being missing. It was about the fear that gripped our small town. The kind of fear that changed lives. The kind that made you question what you thought you knew.