“You think that’s why she died?”
“If she was murdered, then yes.” He drags his fingers through his brown hair. “It’s a convenient coincidence that she overdosed while she was looking into Zoey’s alleged overdose. And then it turns out that Zoey didn’t overdose. I feel like this all has to be connected.” He fiddles with his watch band. “I hate saying this, but I don’t trust some of the officers in this jurisdiction.”
“My uncle Stephan said the same thing when he found out I was going to talk to you. But he implied that the cops here are the trustworthy ones, and outsiders, like you, aren’t. Not that I believe him.”
He considers something. “That’s your dad’s brother, right?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He bobs his head up and down. “And your uncle’s a doctor.” It’s not a question. He’s looking into my father’s case, so he has many details on file about my family.
At least ones that can be put down on paper. It’s the secrets he has no clue about, which leaves me to be the one who has to tell him. I’m unsure I can just spill all of my family secrets.
But if I don’t tell him, then who will?
Reality lands on my shoulders, and my bones beg to break under the weight. Part of me wishes I could let myself break into pieces, and then let the fragments get lost in the cracks of the floor, the air, the light.
“Why does that matter?” I ask while scratching at my wrist.
“Because it means he knows the coroner,” he answers.
“Oh.” I pause, processing what he’s implying. “You think he had something to do with why Clover’s report didn’t necessarily match what you saw when you looked at the photos of her…”Dead.
I can’t utter it aloud.
I can’t breathe.
Air in. Air out. Air in…
Just fucking breathe.
It’s not working.
I feel like I’m dying.
Being strangled to death.
Life is leaving my body.
Did Clover feel this way during her final moments?
Her glassy eyes stare up at me as she whispers?—
I throw the blankets off me and stumble out of the bed.
Ellis’ eyes widen. “What’re you doing?”
“I need some air.” I stumble for the door, the room spinning as I move.
But I manage to make it there, yank the door open, and trip into the brightly lit hallway.
I glance left then right and become painfully aware that I have no idea how to get outside. So instead I slide to the floor, lean against the wall, pull my legs to my chest, and rest my forehead against my knees.
Air in…
Air out…
His fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing tightly.
