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been a sweet boy, but not particularly bright.
    “Jesus,” Regina sighed, indicating her lack of faith in the team of authorities that was working the case.
    “Ready to go?” her father asked before they all pushed themselves out of the booth. Regina could take no more of this conversation, but still she feared getting into the car that would take her deeper into the shaded streets of Black Water.

4
    B lack Water was a small town. Once you gave a street name with a description of a nearby landmark, such as on Elm Street by the library, your Black Water native could almost pinpoint your location exactly. Every street in the entire town, with the exception of Main Street, had been named after a tree or flower and; as a child, Regina had always wondered who made that decision. The home of Charlie and Patricia Dean sat several blocks off Main on Pine Street. Gentle fall winds slipped in through the cracked window of the car as her father turned onto their block, which smelled of pots bubbling with delicious concoctions and fresh loads of laundry that people hung on the lines in their backyards until the snow came. A number of houses looked older now, while some were fresh with updates, but they all fit together perfectly like the pieces of a bizarre puzzle.
    The Queen Anne-style home beamed in the colorful fall landscape, with its rich maroon and forest green accents. The curved porch made the home a romantic kind of place where one would want to waste away slow evenings sipping coffee and watching their children grow. Oversized bay windows on the second floor brought the nostalgia as she remembered all of the nights that she sat in her room looking out her window, watching people go by. One of her great, great grandfathers had built the home in the early 1900s and it had passed on from generation to generation until it was bestowed upon her mother. Two green rocking chairs swayed back and forth on the broad porch, pushed tenderly by the autumn winds, one of the same rocking chairs that her mother rocked her in when she cried as a baby. Regina stepped out of the car and admired the four walls that encompassed her childhood, she sighed deeply as her eyes dragged over all of its memory-evoking parts. The dread began to drain out of her stomach, as the arrival had not been the awful torment that she had anticipated. Shehad been afraid of visiting her old haunts, fearful of the effect that encountering all of the places that she had spent time with Lola, Nikki, and Natalie would be too overwhelming for her, but she was starting to think that she had been wrong. Actually, she felt almost comfortable on the street where even after all of these years, she still knew every house, every tree, and every old rusted swing set that sat in some of the backyards. Mr. Dean grabbed Regina’s bags from the trunk and began to make his way up the drive before he looked back to his daughter who was still set in marvel.
    “You OK?” he asked. Her mother stared, waiting patiently from the porch for her daughter’s answer.
    “I’m fine; it’s just been so long. I think that I will go over to the Rushers’ first, if you guys don’t mind,” she told her parents, who looked to each other, worry etched deep into the surfaces of their faces. After a wave of pregnant silence, her mother spoke.
    “OK,” her mother agreed. “I am going to start dinner in a bit, lasagna, your favorite,” Mrs. Dean tempted.
    Regina smiled. “OK, Mom. Don’t worry, OK. I’m fine. I’ll be back shortly.”
    Regina tried her best to shove her fingers in her skinny jean pockets as she turned and walked back down the drive. She didn’t look back, but she knew that her parents had not moved from their positions, like statues, and probably still had their eyes attached to her. She didn’t look back.
    Everything was different here, even the crisp, late-afternoon air smelled foreign as she filled her lungs with a heap of it.
    Regina Dean was not sure what to expect