"Cora?"

I'm finally being discharged from the hospital. Teagan's parents are both working, and that doesn't leave too many options on how I'm supposed to get home. Ryan hasn't been answering his phone, Cam has a shift at the cafe, and I don't think it's a good idea to ring Rhys.

I look up from checking the bus timetable when I hear Old Tom call my name. He stands to the side of the exit of the hospital, a cigarette pinched between his withering hands. He coughs, punching a fist against his chest.

"Tom?" I smile, walking towards him. "What are you doing here?"

"Just a checkup," he grins. "Perks of being old, my girl."

I offer him a small laugh, shielding my eyes from the blinding sun as I look up at him.

"You're the talk of the town," he says, proudly. "People think you saved that Laderman boy from harming himself."

Shit. I should have known the good old rumour mill in New River would go crazy over something like this. I could only imagine what this is doing to Rhys, for people to think he'd been trying to harm himself that night. I'm sure now that it had just been a way for him to clear his head, to escape the world for five minutes.

"I didn't save him," I shake my head. "I just slipped from the railing and hit my head."

"You're darn lucky, Cora," he whistles. "That pier is a hard fall."

"Yes," I agree. "It definitely is."

I couldn't remember much after the initial impact of the fresh ice-old water. I remember my lungs feeling heavy and then... nothing. After that, I remember Rhys calling my name. I don't have any coherent memories until I woke up in the hospital bed, though.

"How are you getting home?" he questions, dropping his cigarette to the concrete and stamping it out with the toe of his shoe.

"I was just going to get the bus," I point behind me the deserted stop, the blue bench empty of awaiting passengers.

"Nonsense," Tom laughs, heartily. "I'll give you a lift back to town. It's no trouble at all."

He ambles back towards his truck before I get the chance to even muster up a thank you. "I'll just have to pick something up from the store on the way through."

"Thanks for this, Tom."

He waves his hand in the air, rejecting my gratitude. He starts the engine with a splutter and reverses out of the parking lot; the hospital becoming a small blimp in the rearview mirror.

"So how is your mother's investigation going?" he asks. A song from the sixties play softly in the background as we drive along, passing by the hidden lake Rhys had shown me. The fresh memory feels like a lifetime ago now.

"Slowly," I say, absently. "I mean, I've definitely got some new leads this summer, but nothing definite. You probably heard that Rebecca Laderman was being questioned, though."

"I did," he whistles in astonishment. "I couldn't believe it when I heard. But nothing has come of that, has it? I guess that's what happens when your husband is the police sergeant. Doesn't matter if you're innocent or guilty."

"They don't have any hard evidence that she was the one to hit mum with her car," I mumble. "I mean, I'm sure the CCTV footage from the hospital would have shown mum being at the hospital that night, but Rebecca probably isn't in it."

"It's a damn shame," he shakes his head, solemnly. "You deserve answers, Cora."

"I just wish I knew why she left the hospital without staying the night for observation," I shake my head. "And why she never thought to ring me or dad to tell us. I know that Xavier or Dylan probably threatened her about going to the police, but she could have at least told us she was okay, you know?"

"I wish I could help you, Cora. I really do," he sighs.

"You did," I smile, softly. "That footage you gave me helped. In some ways. I know Marcus Wainright has always been aware that Rebecca hurt mum. But again, there is no sufficient evidence to hold him accountable for withholding the truth."

Before too long, we pull up out the front of the store. Tom cuts the engine, asking me to reach into his glove box to grab his wallet. As he hops out, I lean back against the headrest, utterly exhausted. It has been a crazy seventy-two hours and all I need is a good night's rest in a warm bed.

My phone chimes with a notification on my lap, the vibration causing it to slide from my leg and hit the floor. With a groan, I lean down to collect it, my eyes trained on the contents of the glove box as I blindly reach around the floor for my phone.

Something glints from the sun's reflexion and I squint, grabbing my phone and sitting up straight. A small golden object gains my attention as it sits in the glove box's corner, half covered by pieces of paper and other junk. Curiously, I reach for it, withdrawing a small ring. I scrutinize it, noticing the intricate rose ingrained into the golden band. Something heavy sits in the bottom of my stomach and I frown. The hairs on my arm raise as I stare at the small band, turning it over and over in my hands.

I notice Tom exiting the store, waving to the guy behind the counter. Before I can second guess myself, I pocket the ring. I stare out the window as he gets back in, drumming my fingers nonchalantly against my thigh.

"Off me go," Tom coughs, pulling the car into drive. He reaches over to place his wallet back in the glove box and I involuntarily stiffen.

"You alright, my girl?"

I don't know what's wrong, but my instincts are screaming at me. I wish I could understand why, but something has me on edge. "Yeah," I say, strained. "Just—just tired."

"Let's get you back to the Baker's then," he pats my knee gently and I bite my lip, fighting the need to recoil.

What is wrong with me? I'd grown up with Tom. He is like the grandfather I never got to meet. He is the man who has helped my family stay afloat during tough times. Why do I have such a bad feeling about finding this ring?

And suddenly, as I filter through my brain for any answers to my uneasiness, I remember something.

When it happened, the guy took this ring that my grandmother had given me. It was this golden band with a rose ingrained into it.

Abby.

My arm bumps against the button for my window, and it winds down slightly. I jump in my seat and Tom laughs. A laugh that now sounds sinister to me. Gone is the man who I looked up to, who made me smile from his hard work ethic and kind heart. In his place stands a man pinning a seventeen-year-old girl down as he assaults her.

I wipe the thought from my brain, reassuring myself that it's possible this ring doesn't belong to Abby at all, that it is purely a coincidence that it resembles the one the guy stole from her. That Abby's rapist isn't sitting next to me in an inclosed space.

But I can't fight the feeling that this isn't just a terrible coincidence. That instead, I have just stumbled across another crime committed. One that will change everything.