I hesitate, going over in my head what I should do, thinking of the ways this could go wrong. But what if the answers are waiting for me in that car?
I knew this wouldn’t be easy when I decided to get involved. But I’m all in now. There’s no going back.
Swallowing down my nerves, I open my bag and drop the note inside, mumbling as lowly as possible, “I have to get into a red car out front.”
Ellis can hear me, but I can’t hear him. I’m sure he won’t be happy about what I’m about to do.Be safe, he said. Getting into a car with someone who could be involved in this isn’t safe. But I need answers.
I get up and hurry across the bar, pushing out the front doors and stepping into the rain now drizzling from the sky. As raindrops splatter across my face, I scan the curb lining the street until I spot a red car. I jog to it, noting the person in the driver’s seat is wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled over their head. I remind myself of the connection I have to Ellis. I can yell for help if I need to, and he should be able to tail the car if the person decides to drive away.
Mustering up every scrap of dusty courage I have, I yank open the door and duck inside.
I wipe the rain from my cheeks as I turn to face the person. I’m unsure whether to be genuinely terrified or relieved at the sight of Camilla.
“Toss your bag out the window,” she instructs as she pushes the button to roll down the window.
I clutch my bag to my chest. “I can’t just leave it out there.”
She narrows her eyes as she grips the wheel. “If you want some answers, you have to. I think you’re being tracked, and I can’t risk it.”
I assess her. I wish I could read her, but I don’t think I can.
Hoping to god I don’t regret it and that Ellis is listening to this, I toss my bag out the window. It lands in a puddle, and then Camilla is rolling up the window as she drives away from the curb.
I give a discreet glance at the side mirror to see if I can spot Ellis’s SUV, but the streets are mostly empty, and the increasing intensity of the rain decreases visibility of our surroundings.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I reach for my seatbelt.
“Somewhere safe.” She flits a glance at the rearview mirror before speeding up the car.
I’m aware we’re leaving the town and heading toward the outskirts where the woods are. “Not the woods.” It’s not a question.
She lets out a humorless laugh. “No, never the woods.”
I’d relax, but I’m unsure if I trust her. And I think she might be high with how dilated her pupils look.
I grip the side of the seat. “Why did you leave me that photo and note? And how did you get a note in my father’s handwriting?”
“It wasn’t in your father’s handwriting. I forged it.” She shifts gears as she presses the gas harder.
Fear and a bit of regret lash through my veins. “How do you know what my father’s handwriting looks like?”
She stares straight ahead, her knuckles turning white as she clutches the wheel. “You really don’t know the answer to that?”
I shake my head. “No, why would I?”
Her gaze slides to me, and she measures me up, the silence between us filled up by the windshield wipers going back and forth.
“Because I was with him, from when I was released from the woods up until the day my soul died,” she says matter-of-factly, then directs her attention back to the flooded road.
All I can hear for a moment is the sound of my heart matching the downpour of the rain. I want to be more confused than I am, but I’m not. I don’t even know why.
“You were with him like you were dating him?” Although I doubt ‘dating’ is the correct choice of word here.
More like my father was a fucking predator.
“Date? I wish it were that.” With how tightly she’s gripping the steering wheel, her knuckles have turned white. “What we were… It was much more disturbing.”
I realize we’re headed to the lake, the one where Clover once went under the water, and I thought she might never resurface.
