If You Don't Tell

By Alana Sommers

In 1985, a ten-year-old girl and her mother vanished in the night without a trace. The mystery of their disappearance was never solved, and the case went cold. Twenty-five years later, a Sullivan's Island resident takes interest in the disappearance, and their story finally starts to unfold...all while the perfectly-carved lives of three friends

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Jan 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685152499

Alana Sommers

Alana Sommers grew up in Charlotte, North Carolina. She received her BA from Kent State University in Ohio. She currently lives in Charleston, South Carolina, with her husband and four kids. Alana enjoys paddle boarding, crabbing, and being at the beach.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Why are you doing this?

She's not sure where she is or how she got here. She knows that she's walking through the woods; her breath is loud as she weaves through the trees. She keeps flinching, not knowing when a branch is going to fling back toward her. Her eyes are blindfolded and her hands tied behind her back. She feels a gun pushing at her, moving her along. She pleads again.

Why are you doing this? You don’t have to! Please!

She tries to remember the last thing she was doing, before she realized what was happening to her now. But she can’t. Her mind is going ninety miles a minute, but at the same time, it just seems to be going in circles. She can’t focus. And her head is pounding.

Her brain only wants to focus on the now.

Telling her, We need to figure this out.

We need to resolve this situation.

We need to figure it out fast!

She relents and starts to zero in on what's happening all around her. She listens. Leaves are crunching. It's cool and dark out. Or is it just dark from the blindfold? No, with the still air and whistling breeze, it must be nighttime. With her eyes covered, her other senses are enhanced. The temperature is cold against her skin. It's not supposed to be this chilly this time of year in Charleston, South Carolina.

She realizes there's water nearby. She hears the wake crashing against a dock. Searching her memory, she tries to think where she is. Where is here?

Woods.

Near water.

And a dock?

She realizes where she is. But why is she here? How did she get here? Whom is she with?

She feels the gun jabbing at her back again, forcing her to walk.

She starts to feel the breeze getting stronger, slapping against her face. She's getting closer to the water. The smell of salt water consumes the air she breathes. Her heart tightens at the anticipation of her worst nightmare. Suddenly she is pushed from behind. Her body gasps for its last breath in terror.

She begins to fall.

There is a loud splash.

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

~Beth~

Her clock displayed 11:11. Beth closed her eyes and made a wish—Please let her be alive and well—kissed the clock, and continued reading.

Briar Circle? The street sounded familiar, but she couldn’t mentally pinpoint exactly which one it was. Her daily treks took her on so many winding paths.

She stopped reading the article and set her phone facedown on the counter, to the sound of the sure-footed stomps of her boyfriend, Bobby, coming down the stairs.

There was something different about him.

She didn’t know exactly what it was, but she could feel it.

He paced the first floor of her condo, making a loop that ran through the galley kitchen, around the couch, and ended behind the bar top, where she was calmly sipping her turmeric ginger tea. He was clearly searching for something, picking up the couch cushions, peeking under the random articles of clothing that were strewn around the room, after being pulled off, during the better part of last night, before their blowout. Bobby's short, fast strides carried him around her living room quickly. Her place wasn’t very large—she lived in a two-bedroom condo. Alone. Well, alone with her cat.

On his second lap, he dared to come a little closer to her but was still avoiding her gaze, and with tension in the air and an icy vibe emanating from him, she noticed he was clearly avoiding eye contact and the argument lurking between them. Bobby didn’t like it when she went all hippy-dippy on him, which was how he referred to her belief in Earth's natural energy, her interest in astrology, and her study of synesthesia.

Humph, Bobby half breathed, half muttered.

She smiled into her oversized mug. Though Beth knew he was upset, she still found his stoic pouting undeniably adorable. She wondered if moving to the South a year ago and living at the beach was making her soft. The old Beth, the gritty New Yorker who saw right through people and never second-guessed herself, wouldn’t have put up with a boyfriend like this; she would have been long gone.

She walked over to the kitchen sink and waited for the kettle on the stove to boil. Another cup of tea was mandatory if she was going to be able to address whatever was lingering between them. She didn’t feel like arguing but also didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to get to the bottom of why he’d been acting so strange lately. She looked at him and tried to search for the best way to approach this. Bobby paused his hunt and looked at her. Finally, eye contact.

She took in a deep breath and held it, feeling her chest tighten, thinking he was finally going to say something, but then he turned away and went back to searching, and she exasperatedly exhaled. She opened her mouth to speak. Bobby, you’re acting like a petulant child, she wanted to say, but then the kettle started to whistle, and so her admonishment stayed in her mouth.

She turned off the stove, placed two teaspoons of sugar into her cup, and poured in a little milk. Maybe it wasn’t the beach or the South that was making her soft, she thought as she stirred her spoon, but instead turning thirty-four last month. This was also around the time her internal alarm started buzzing. More than she wanted to admit, even to herself. And this wasn’t a sweet little melody trying to get her attention. It was an obnoxious wake-up-this-instant, terrifying wake-you-out-of-your-deepest-sleep death knell.

I just don’t understand what we’re doing here, Bobby. She placed the spoon down on the edge of the sink, carefully picked up the steaming cup of tea, and turned back around to face him.

What are you talking about?

We’ve been dating for almost a year now; it's been ten months, she answered, stopping herself before mentioning that it was her longest relationship ever.

OK? he asked, talking to the ground.

She hated, abhorred that she sounded like that type of girlfriend—the kind that unnaturally pushed things along. The kind of girlfriend her younger self had promised she’d never become. Well, what was last night all about? Don’t you think we should talk about it?

He stopped what he was doing and finally looked at her. What about last night?

She briefly closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Was he really going to act like last night was no big deal? Like it didn’t happen? It was the worst response he could have given her. Not acknowledging any problem, knowing how she hated being vulnerable, how she hated putting her cards on the table, making it seem like it was all in her head. Basically saying, This is your problem.

Sampson, her long-haired Himalayan cat, strutted into the kitchen, sauntering all the way around the perimeter of the room to get to his food dish. As if he could sense the negative energy mucking the air between them. There was something about Bobby that she craved so badly, it weakened her. An isolating sadness that was rooted deep down within him. A defense mechanism that probably worked for pushing people away and preventing anyone from getting close. But for Beth, it did the opposite. It created a force field, pulling her magnetically to him, challenging, or maybe daring, her to feel closer to him.

Just like the barn cats on her grandpa's farm that she used to visit many years ago. Skittish and scrawny from only eating her Italian grandmother's cooked pasta, which her Nonna would take out to feed them, they wouldn’t let anyone near them, running to hide as soon as the barn door creaked open. They were impossible to get close to. And every time Beth visited, she was more determined to gain their trust.

Bobby reminded her of those barn cats. She wanted to gain his trust so she could be close to him and get to know a side of him that no one else did. And just like with those cats, she knew she needed to be careful, to not push too hard and accidentally push him away. If she chased after the barn cats or tried too soon to touch one, they’d run off, and she’d have to start all over again gaining their trust and work much harder to get back to where she had been before becoming impatient.

Distracted by her thoughts, Beth took a slurp from her mug and just as quickly spit it out, instantly burning her mouth with the scalding hot tea.

Bobby didn’t even notice. He was too busy trying to get out the door for work, limping from only having one shoe on and obviously still upset about last night.

Beth reached under the kitchen sink for the paper towels, pulling a couple off the roll to wipe up the mess all over herself and the floor. Everywhere the spraying tea had landed. Tears tried to escape, but she fought them back. This was going to be her chance.

Her upper lip and tongue pulsed. The urge to holler out from the pain almost became too overwhelming, but she wasn’t going to let it leak. She was embarrassed by her carelessness and hurt that Bobby didn’t know she was upset.

A moment later she heard the door slam.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 12, 1985

MOTHER AND YOUNG CHILD MISSING

Carole West and her daughter Libby West were last seen asleep in their beds. Carole is 5’3 tall, weighs 130 pounds, blue eyes and dark brown hair. She is believed to be wearing a floral nightgown. Libby is 10 years old, 4’2 tall, and weighs 70 pounds. She has green eyes and brown hair. She was last seen wearing a purple nightgown with white lace trim. If you have any information that might aid in the search for Carole and Libby West, contact the police department at 516-555-5555.

CHAPTER TWO

~Sarah~

Sarah pulled her tan Kia Soul as close as possible behind Beth's Jeep, along the side of the road, making sure the tires were completely on the grass and off the road. She didn’t want to have to deal with a parking ticket later. Better three hours too soon than a minute too late. She chided herself for her tardy arrival with an oft-remembered Shakespearean quote. Though she would have been on time if only her five-year-old son, Ben, hadn’t left his lunchbox on the counter. Her unplanned lunchbox delivery at Middle Day Elementary had delayed her excursion.

She swiveled to grab her beach bag, towel, and water bottle from the back seat and wondered when a simple twist of her back had started to become so excruciating, then contemplated bringing the leftover bottle of wine from last week's get-together. Was it too early for a drink?

As if scolding her for this thought, her smart watch chimed to remind her that she was halfway to her daily move goal. Ugh, fine, you win for now, she angrily thought at her fitness watch. Walk now, wine later. She remembered her own personal motto.

With a click of her key fob, she locked the car with a satisfying beep-beep and headed toward the ocean. Her eyes nearly closed from squinting into the afternoon sun; she regretted not putting on her sunglasses before filling her arms with all her belongings. She spotted Beth, slouched down as only a woman totally unconcerned about any stomach rolls could be, in a Hawaiian floral beach chair, right along the shoreline with her feet in the low tide.

Beth! Sarah yelled, tiptoeing onto the beach in her cautious attempt to avoid the hot sand. She wasn’t to the cool wet sand yet; she was dredging through the hot coals of tiny sand, which flung up at her legs, burning them one speck at a time.

Beth turned her head and looked over at Sarah as she approached her. Hey! I figured you would be the first one here. How are ya? Beth asked, admiring Sarah's tankini bathing suit.

Ugh. I am ready to relax. Adam is finally coming home this afternoon. A week away is too long! I didn’t think I was going to make it, Sarah replied, unfolding her beach chair and nestling it into the sand next to Beth. She plopped down in the chair, feeling like a dollop of pudding plopping down on a countertop. Wasn’t there a more elegant way to settle onto a beach chair so low to the ground? How about you? You’re here early. Is everything all right?

Yeah, sure. Bobby was in a rush to leave this morning. So my morning plans were cut a little short. Just my morning plans of figuring out the rest of my life, Beth thought.

Oh no. Is there something going on? Or is single life with no kids too hard? Why was she feeling so spiteful? Beth was a good friend to her. One of the best, despite the fact of also being her newest.

Sarah looked over at Beth. She was wearing a large pink sunhat that was doing more than an efficient job of keeping the sun off her. Her friend was so thin, she sat in the shadow of it and her entire body was protected from the sun. Not everyone could wear these Charlestonian beach hats—at least not wear them and pull it off, thought Sarah. She’d seen her share of tourists, her family members included, come to town and buy them, with every intention of wearing them again. But after they returned home, the oversized hats ended up sitting in their closets, high up on the shelf, just another unused souvenir to remind them of their carefree vacation self. But Beth, with her slim figure and stunning long legs, could pull it off. In fact, these hats were made for people like her.

Beth could pull off wearing just about anything.

Meanwhile, she was having to do a cleanse. One that required her to fast for fourteen hours a day. And it was turning her into a bitch. Worse, a hungry bitch who couldn’t think straight, couldn’t remember all the small details of everyone's schedule like she usually did. Probably due to lack of nutrients, she thought. What was that? she turned and asked Beth.

Oh, nothing. I’m sure everything is fine between me and Bobby, Beth replied, looking out at the horizon. I’m just starting to wonder the same thing everyone else has already been asking. It's been almost a year, and I haven’t met a single person from his family.

Oh wow, that's pretty bad, Beth. Definitely a red flag. Sarah knew that had come out more harshly than she had intended. She knew to always be careful about criticizing other people's relationships. If you start to condemn a partner too much, and then they end up staying with them, you end up looking like the bad guy who didn’t believe in them. Or worse, they start to resent you for speaking your mind.

Beth turned away, and Sarah felt herself staring. She couldn’t help wondering why Beth felt like she would need to settle, settle for anything at all that she didn’t like. With a solid head on her shoulders and her determined laser focus on her career, she was an all-around catch. But that was what happened, she suspected, when you reached your thirties without a mate. Maybe Beth was feeling the pressure, the pressure of time, of each passing day, to get on with Mr. Right-Enough instead of Mr. Right.

She forced herself to look away from Beth and instead watched a family of four playing in the water, amazed with their ability to enjoy the frigid water still lingering from winter.

Last winter was the