I nod, sinking into a chair. “It is.” My throat is congested with words that are terrified to come out, threatening to choke me to death. “How is it that Ellis hasn’t found this yet?”
“Well, none of this information is from any newspaper articles. People were discussing it on this thread I accidentally stumbled upon. I guess it’s considered just a rumor, and the police never confirmed it. But a few ex-cops have gotten on the thread and say that they were there when this girl’s body was found. But the police labeled her death as an overdose, so the case was closed. One person said that this detail was erased from the girl’s autopsy report and the police reports, but that they saw the word on the girl’s body when she was found.” She glances back at the screen. “There’s been speculation that more girls have been found like this, but it’s been covered up.”
“Just like in Star Meadows,” I mutter, reclining back on the sofa. “Can you show me the thread?”
She nods, tucking a strand of her blond hair behind her ear before handing me her laptop. “It’s open on the page. I haven’t read through all of it yet.”
I set the laptop on my lap and begin reading through the thread.
Clara stands up. “I’m going to make us some coffee.”
I glance at her. “You want to drink caffeine this late?”
“Oh, absolutely, because I sure as hell am not going to be able to sleep. Might as well enjoy being wired, right?” She smiles before making her way into the kitchen.
I return my focus to reading. I reread all the information Clara had already told me about and then continued. Eventually, she hands me a coffee. I take a sip as I pause on a particular section of the thread.
“It says this girl’s body was found in a park near the mountains—just like that girl that was just found.” And that the word cut into her back was…slut.” I gulp down another swallow. “So, whoever cut me up that night may have been the same person who killed this girl.” The words roll off my tongue and shatter against the air, sending slivers of fragments in the air that are razor sharp.
Could the killer be in my family? Could it be Trystan? My uncle? Jason?
But Jason didn’t live in Forkfield, at least from what I’m aware of.
“What do you mean: whoever cut you the other night?” Clara’s worried voice drags me from my thoughts. “When did you get cut?”
Shit. I forgot I hadn’t told her about that yet.
“What’re you talking about, Aves?” she asks again as she settles on the cushion beside me with a coffee mug in her hand.
“I…” I stare at her. I’ve been trying to gather up the courage to tell her. I don’t want to, but I think I need to. Summoninga deep breath, I set the coffee down on the table in front of me. “There’s some stuff I still need to tell you. Stuff that’s happened to me.”
By the time I finished telling her everything that happened from the night at the bar to today, plus showing her the mark on my side, she’s absolutely horrified. She has the coffee mug cupped in her hands but hasn’t taken a sip since I started talking. She hasn’t said much either. Her silence is unnerving, and I worry she’s upset.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just…” Exhaling, I collect my coffee and take a drink. “It’s hard to talk about. Plus… I have this bad habit of keeping secrets because that’s what I was taught to do.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. I just wish you had felt like you could’ve told me sooner.”
“It had nothing to do with you.”
“I know, but I still wish you could have. I mean, I was there that night when you were cut.”
“I know, but you said you can barely remember anything.”
“I can’t really, but I’m going to try. Maybe mediation will help.” She considers this before setting her coffee down on the table. “I’m going to work on trying to dig up some sort of memory of that night, but first, I have to ask: Should we be worried about one of your family members showing up here? Could that have been why Bailey was acting weird earlier? Because one of them was creeping around here?”
“I’m not sure.” My attention strays to the unlocked front door. I get up and slide the lock over before facing her. “Are yousure you don’t want to take a flight home? Or drive my car? I can pay for the gas?—”
“Nope.” She holds up her hand in front of her. “We’re not going there again. I may be freaked out, but I am not bailing on you. We drive home together, bestie, no matter what.”
She sounds so much like Clover that it’s alarming.
“Now, I’m going to meditate for a few minutes while you finish reading that thread.” She pushes to her feet. “And then we’re going to turn on a happy movie to fall asleep to, or else I’m going to have nightmares.” She exits the room.
I return to the sofa and continue reading through the thread. I do that for a while. Most of the people on it appear to be out-of-towners who are into true crime and have heard whispers of rumors about alleged murders that were covered up there.
A few people who live in Forkfield reply to some of the questions. The one I stay focused on the most is the man claiming to be the officer from Forkfield. He gives details of the account from what he witnessed, and those are chillingly similar to the girls found in Star Meadows. Stuff like words carved on their flesh, bodies found in a forests or park areas near the woods, and all of the girls were known for drug addictions.
But as I reach the bottom, the conversation shifts to someone with the handler,MysteriousFlowerFieldjoins the conversation.
