Page 52 of Darkness of Mine


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I play Alistair’s voice over in my head, trying to convince myself that running isn’t going to solve anything. The reminder that I’m the reason Zach is doing all this makes my very existence feel like a danger but running won’t help. What will help is catching Zach and making sure he can never hurt another soul.

River’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “I think that’s enough for now. Eli, show Angelica to Freya’s room. Freya, you’re with me.”

I look up from the chess piece, my gaze trailing after my sister as Eli takes her upstairs. I still don’t want to talk to River but the case comes first. Harley comes first.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he strides past me.

“I want eyes on the PO box. That envelope is unmarked which means it was hand delivered. If we’re lucky, they might have caught Zach on camera.”

Somehow I doubt it, Zach’s too smart to have slipped up like that but we make the trip anyway. Smart people get cocky and cocky people make mistakes.

The PO box is located inside the post office. The place is empty when we arrive, the post woman behind the front desk the only other person around. She looks up from her magazine as River and I approach.

River flips his badge, and I grit my teeth at the reminder that I no longer have mine. My anger for River fights with my worry for Jude, both of them writhing inside of me but I push the emotions down, focusing on the case.

“I need access to box 189 and the security footage from yesterday,” River tells the woman.

“Sure thing. Looking for someone in particular?” She gets off her stool, keys jangling on her work belt as she leans over to lift the flip-up countertop.

“A man,” I tell her as we follow her back into a small office. “Early thirties, brown hair, thin build. Ring any bells?”

The woman’s graying dreadlocks sway as she glances back at me and shakes her head. “A lot of folks look like that, honey. The cameras would have caught him though.”

She clicks the mouse, waking up the computer, and pulls up the security footage from yesterday. She fast-forwards through the day but when she hits noon the screen scrambles. “What the…” She squints and keeps forwarding through till the image clears again. I check the timestamp. There’s over three hours of footage that’s been corrupted.

I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling panels. “Shit.”

The postwoman clicks through a few settings on the computer, trying to clear the image but quickly gives up. “I don’t know what’s happened there. I’m going to need to call my manager. Do y’all need anything else?”

“The locker. Can you open it for us.”

She nods and we follow her out into the main space, a small room with walls of PO boxes on three sides. We find the right box and the lock clicks as she twists the key before hesitating. “This thing isn’t gonna blow up in my face, is it?”

“No,” I say. “But I’ll open it if you want.”

She steps aside and I pull the square metal door back. Nothing. The box is empty. I run my fingers through my hair, turning away when a flash of white catches my eye.

There. Right at the back. I reach into the locker, my fingers settling on a slip of white paper tucked into the seam of the metalbox. I slide it out. A handwritten message is scrawled across the paper.

Try again, Little Star.

I fight the urge to crush the note in my fist and pass it to River. Anger darkens his eyes as he reads but I’m already walking away, heading for the door that leads to the street. I should stay and ask for the details of the person who owns the locker. Of how they paid. When they started renting the box. There’s so much more information we need but I can’t do this right now. I step outside, straight into a thin cold drizzle.

The water chills my skin as I lean against the brick wall.

Zach’s toying with us.

I stare at the slate gray sky, wishing it would rain harder, maybe then the water could wash away the scum that clings to my skin every time I hear the endearmentLittle Star.It’s fucked up and sick and the words crawl into my flesh till I want to burn my insides just to get rid of them.

Those two words terrify me.Zachterrifies me.

I focus on breathing, the rain steadily soaking into my jeans. Water gathers into droplets on my leather jacket and rolls down to the cuffs. Maybe the weather’s on my side because the rain definitely gets stronger. By the time River steps outside my curls are sticking to my face.

He stops beside me, a frown scowling his face. “You’re soaked.”

I’m still not talking to him, so I just stare back.

“Come on, you need to get out of the rain.” He grabs my wrist, but I tug it free, not wanting him to touch me right now.