“I told you this all started because you came back.” She sets the pipe down in the cupholder and reclines back against the seat, staring out the window where rain continues to pour down against the rippling waters of the lake.
“Nothing happened while I was gone?”
“Not the murders.” She tilts her head toward me. “The ones being found out about anyway. They might all be connected in their own way, but not entirely. The girl in the park… She’s not the same. And there’s been others like that.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “How do you know this?”
“Because I told you. You’re either hunted or part of the hunters. I chose the latter, so I know everything that goes on atnight when darkness possesses the trees. There’s also whispers, little secrets being told amongst the monsters.” Her pupils are so big that her eyes look black. “Tell me, Ava, did Clover ever tell you about the daisies?”
I slant back in the seat, panic setting in. “How do you know that?”
“Because I saw her once, hiding her secrets there.”
What is she talking about?
What secrets?
And how does she know about the fucking daisies?
“Did you… Were you the person who left those daisies in front of the door?” My tone simmers with rage at the idea that she did that.
But when her forehead creases, I know it wasn’t her.
“No, why would I do that?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I mutter, the rage in me shifting to puzzlement. I slump back in the seat as she positions the pipe in front of her lips again. “Where are these daisies that Clover hid her secrets underneath?”
“In the darkness, they’re everywhere.” She’s growing higher by the second. “In the light, they live in the shadows.”
I’m worried I’m going to lose her to the drugs, so I ask, “Do you know anything about my father’s death?”
“No,” she coughs as she exhales. “But there are a lot of people who wanted him dead.”
“Why would you think someone murdered him? He died accidentally.” That’s what the public should know anyway.
She lets out a dry laugh while staring at the lake. “If you’re referring to that bullshit the police are feeding everyone, then yeah, sure, his death was accidental.”
I study her. “Did you…” I bite my tongue.
Am I foolish enough to ask her if she killed him?
“Did I kill him?” she asks, glancing at me. “I wish, but it wasn’t me.” She holds the pipe in her hand. “They control everything that I do. And I don’t fight back. At first, it was because I was afraid, but I don’t feel much of anything anymore.” She positions the pipe in front of her lips, flicks the light, and takes a hit. “That’s what the end goal of this was for them. Numbness and addiction equals compliance.”
Sadly, I know what she’s referring to.
“Do you know who killed—” My question is cut off by blue and red flashing lights suddenly filling the cab as a police vehicle pulls up behind us.
“Shit.” I glance at the pipe Camilla is holding and then at her expression.
The calmness emanating from her has me questioning what’s happening.
“Like I said, they control me.” She places the pipe in front of her mouth, heats the glass, and inhales, disregarding the fact that two uniformed officers are approaching her car.
The rain has calmed down, so I can see them clearly. The older one is kind of friends with my parents, but I doubt that’ll help me. It might even work against me, depending on whether they’re part of whatever this group—cult—whatever it is that Camilla told me about.
Unless…
“Was everything you told me a lie?” I hiss, knowing I’m probably about to get arrested over drugs being in the car.
