AC: No, I don’t. I mean, she had some disagreements with people, but nothing serious. Nothing that would have led to this.
AC: Mr. Clark, forgive me if this seems redundant, but your answers seem quite rehearsed. They’re almost identical to the statements you provided us when Ms. Montgomery first went missing.
AC: Pardon?
DETECTIVE: It’s just that you said the same things when we interviewed you the day after she went missing. No new information, your statements are the same.
AC: Are you getting at something, Detective?
DETECTIVE: I’m just trying to understand, Mr. Clark. It’s my job to piece together the facts, and your consistent responses raise some questions.
AC:Do I need to call my father?
DETECTIVE:There’s no need. This is simply a follow-up. Standard procedure.
[End of Transcript]
The Underworld sings
from earth that will
no longer embrace me,
abandoned by gravity
exhaling nothing
I still remember the soft tissues.
; “Finding the Great Dream of Hell” Linda Addison.
Chapter Three
The air was brisk as the group stepped out into the evening cold. Lilia tugged at the sleeves of her fitted blazer, her dress feeling suddenly too tight against the rawness of the moment. The fabric clung to her as she descended the steps from the police station. She glanced at Augustus beside her, the tailored lines of his charcoal overcoat draping his tall frame effortlessly, his sharp cheekbones set against the dim light. It was almost too perfect—a facade that masked the roiling turmoil beneath.
The transition from the suffocating interior to the biting chill outside felt surreal, as if they had stepped from one realm into another. The station’s harsh lights and sterile walls gave way to the dim glow of the twilight, casting long shadows that danced on the pavement.
“I never want to do that again,” Eleanor murmured, breaking the oppressive silence. She pulled the cuffs of her sweater down over her wrists, her delicate features nearly swallowed by her oversized piece. Her voice was a fragile thread, easily severed by the weight of their shared tension.
The group murmured in agreement, their eyes casting furtive glances at one another, the sound of their shoes muffled bythe cold, damp air. Augustus shifted his stance, his dark wool scarf tucked neatly into the high collar of his coat. Even in his quiet moments, his presence was commanding, as if he were an anchor for the rest of them, though he bore his own weight just as heavily.
“Ellie’s Diner?” Augustus suggested, nodding toward the flickering neon sign down the road. The old diner, a relic from another era, seemed to call to them with its promise of temporary refuge. “We need to talk.”
Ellie’s Diner stood as a sentinel of the past, its brick and wood facade cloaked in ivy that twisted like creeping fingers. Inside, the dim lighting cast an amber glow, reflecting off the worn leather booths and dark mahogany tables. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the musty aroma of old books, creating an atmosphere thick with nostalgia and unease.
They slid into a corner booth, the leather creaking under their weight. A waitress with tired eyes and a weary smile took their orders, soon placing steaming mugs of coffee before them. The rich, dark liquid swirled with hints of smoke and bitterness, a reflection of their turbulent thoughts.
Lilia wrapped her hands around her mug, the warmth seeping into her cold fingers. “I got text from an unknown number,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Right before my interview.”
“What kind of text?” Sebastian urged her on, his lean frame slouched against the back of the booth. His hair was starting to fall into his eyes, his tie slightly loosened, as if the gravity of the night was finally catching up to him. The subtle edge of his tone mirrored the tension that hung in the air. He was always polished, always in control—until he wasn’t.
“It was odd. I don’t know if someone was trying to scare me or knew that there was a chance I would get in trouble for lying about something. I didn’t want to worry you.” Lilia toyed withthe edge of her dress. “But it was almost as if someone knew that we were hiding something from the police.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sebastian ran a tired hand down his face, sighing.
“I just didn’t want you guys to worry. It was probably nothing—some asshole trying to scare us. Half the town was at the funeral. They all saw us get into the detective’s car. Maybe someone thought it was a joke.”
“Some joke,” Augustus murmured.
