All the Missing Pieces

by Catherine Cowles

“What about him?” Trey asked, tapping a photo in the yearbook. It was a shot of Emerson with a guy I didn’t recognize. He was young. Maybe five or six years older than her, and it looked like he was instructing her on a swing. Emerson frowned down at the book. “That was one of those clinics Coach signed us up for. Shawn Sullivan. He was All-American, just out of college. He—” Emerson’s words cut off as she started to shake. Trey dropped the book, his arm going around her. “Emmie, what’s wrong?” She stared straight ahead, but I knew she wasn’t seeing the room in front of her. “Grape Bubblicious.” Everything in me stilled and then instantly went wired. It was the one thing law enforcement had kept from the press. The scent of grape Emerson had identified. “He always chewed grape Bubblicious gum. Always.” Emerson’s gaze shot to me. “Was it him? Was it Shawn?”