"Breakfast on the run," she says.
"What's going on? Why do you need to go down to the police station so fast?"
I follow her out of the house, and we pile into her car. She takes a bite of her burrito, then settles the rest into her lap so she can drive.
"They want to talk to me about the body and the statement I made yesterday. Hopefully that means they figured out who he is and what happened last year."
I take a bite of my burrito and watch Shadow Creek pass by the window as we drive into town. It's still morning, but heat radiates off surfaces, and the few people who have taken to the sidewalk move far more slowly than they did in the winter. Patriotic buntings, metallic pinwheels glistening in the sunlight, and miniature American flags dot the buildings and stretches of grass, harkening at the impending holiday. If Scarlett is right, with any hope last Halloween's murder will be solved and behind her by the time the fireworks burst on the 4th of July.
It only takes approximately three minutes inside the police station for that hope to disappear.
Scarlett stares at the officer she keeps referring to as Jimmy, who is far less than pleased to see me. Her mouth is hanging open and her eyes narrowed. Jimmy tried to get me out of the room, but she forced him back, and finally he dropped down into the chair across the desk from us and told us why he called her first thing this morning.
To say it didn't go over well with Scarlett would be a tremendous understatement.
"What do you mean the body is too old?" she asks, her voice steeped in disgust.
"It's too old. That man was not murdered a year ago," he says.
"I swear to all that is warm, toasty, and cinnamon-scented in this world, Milkshake, if you are fucking with me, I am going to hoist you up on the Quidditch post and shoot spitballs directly at your forehead," she says through gritted teeth. "I have done it before, don't think I won't."
"That's threatening an officer of the law, Scarlett. I could arrest you for that," he points out.
"And I could call your wife and tell her you're the one who designed the calendar of women wearing nothing but plastic eggs and strategically woven Easter grass for last year's spring fundraiser," she fires back.
"I'm not messing with you. Look at the report yourself if you want to, but I warn you, it's not pretty. That man was pretty much a freezer-burned chunk of Sunday roast wrapped in wool. They had to chip and thaw quite a bit to find out anything about him."
"Delightful," she mutters, her hand pressing against her belly under the edge of the desk. She opted for a flowy sundress today, and Cupcake is surprisingly concealed. "What did they find out?"
"That man not only didn't die a year ago, he didn't even get frozen a year ago. It's been much longer than that. The medical examiner is going to need more time to get really specific, but she says it's been a long time," Jimmy says.
"How long?" I ask.
"Why is that every time this murder investigation comes up, you're buzzing around?" the officer asks.
"Look, Milkshake. You've dealt with this murder investigation exactly two times less than twenty-four hours apart. I'm not here for you. I'm here for Scarlett," I grit through my teeth.
His eyes slide over to Scarlett. "Now you've got him calling me Milkshake."
She shrugs. "If the cow-tipping boots fit."
"I don't have to include you in anything we've found out so far. This is an official investigation, and you did your part when you made your statement. But since I know you aren't going to keep your nose out of it if I don't, I'll tell you this. By what the M.E. told me about the body and some of the evidence on his clothes, there’s no way it happened recently. I don't know what you saw last Halloween, Scarlett, but it wasn't that man getting murdered."
“And why not?” Scarlett asks, her eyes flashing.
“Because this man has been dead for over twenty years.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Scarlett
"How is that possible?" I sputter, reeling from what Jimmy just told me.
"When you found the body, did you see his face?" Jimmy asks.
"Yes. He was lying face up on the floor with the blanket wrapped around him, but it wasn't covering his face. It was exactly like when you went in and saw him. I didn't touch or move anything," I say.
"And when you saw his face, you immediately thought it was the person you saw last year?" he asks.
"Of course I did. That's what I've been telling you, isn't it?" Defensiveness rises up in me, but I try to stay calm. For all his bludger-loving self, he's still the head of the police department in Shadow Creek and is just trying to do his job. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "When I saw him, I immediately recognized him. The first thing I thought about was watching that man get stabbed."
"But it wasn't him," Jimmy points out. "It couldn't have been. So, you need to think back. Think about that night last year. What about that man reminds you of the body?"
"The man in the freezer looked like he was about the same height," I say.
"About the same height? Not exactly?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Cold makes things smaller. Maybe it shrank him," I argue.
"I honestly don't think cold shrinkage is a concern for him anymore," Jimmy says.
"The bone structure was the same. They both have... had... dark hair."
"So, you're telling me you were convinced you just found the body of a man you saw get murdered because he was a height that made sense for a man, had the same bone structure, and had the most common color hair in the world. You think because, according to you, it was very dark that night at the maze, so you can't really be sure what color his hair was."
I shake my head. "I guess not." The way he's talking to me deflates me again, but I refuse to sag. He's not going to get that satisfaction. "Did you find out anything else? You said there was evidence indicating to the medical examiner how long it might have been since he was tossed in that freezer."
"Not tossed in that freezer," Jimmy corrects. "That's a much more recent addition to the house. But she does think he's been frozen this whole time."
"Thanks for the clarity. That differentiation makes such an impact."
"It does," Gavin comments beside me.
My eyes snap to him. "What do you mean? Why does it matter when he was put in that particular freezer?"
"It means it definitely wasn't a mistake, for one. We haven't heard a cause of death yet, so if he had been in the same place all this time, there was the slight possibility he could have gotten himself locked in there and died accidentally."
"With a wool blanket wrapped around him?" I ask.
"I've known some extremely eccentric restaurant owners, and a few are terrified of locking themselves in the walk-in and freezing to death before anyone finds them. So, they keep a box in there with blankets. One even has camping supplies to make a fire. I don't think he's considered the logistics of that particular plan, but it's there. But since the freezer hasn't been there for that long, the body was moved. Someone did that intentionally. They knew where the body was," he says.
"That could explain the break-ins," I offer to Jimmy.
"What break-ins?" Gavin asks.
"A bunch of teenage punks broke into the house and did some damage a few times," the officer says dismissively.
"Seriously? Even after all this, you're still going to stick with the hoodlum theory?" I ask. "Obviously someone was going in there for a reason. But it can't be the person who put the body in the freezer."
"Why not?" Jimmy asks. "If we're going to go with your assertion and say they have something to do with each other, why couldn't it be that person trying to scare people away so they don't find the body?"
"If they were that concerned about someone finding the body, they would have moved it," I point out. "They already moved it from one place into that freezer. I can't imagine it would be so challenging to move it again. There would be no reason to try to scare anyone away. Also, the house was forfeited to th
e town because the owner didn't show up for the three years. I don't think it's so much of a leap of the imagination to think the owner of the house might have something to do with the body. If he wanted to keep people away from the freezer, he could have just reclaimed the house, and no one would ever have messed with it."
"That's true," Jimmy nods. "I didn't think of that. It doesn't matter much, anyway, since we don't know the owner."
"Why don't you know the owner of the house?" Gavin asks.
"It's technically owned by a holding company," I explain. "So, it keeps the name of the individual private."
"I'm familiar," he says. "I've never seen it happen with such a simple property, though."
Scarlett rolls her eyes at me, and I withhold a laugh. "What else, Jimmy? What else did you find?"
"He had identification on him," he says.
My eyes widen, and my mouth falls open. "He had ID and you're just now mentioning it? Don't you think that bit of information would have been useful?"
"Not particularly, considering you aren't in law enforcement. Besides, the name on the ID isn't him," Jimmy tells me.
"It's not him?" I ask.
"No. They look sort of alike, at least as far as we can tell from our improperly preserved popsicle, but there are differences that make the M.E. believe they are different people."
"Let's try to be a bit more respectful," I say. "That is a person, remember."
"Fine. I'm sorry," the officer relents.
"Good. So, what's the name on the ID?"
"I can't divulge that to you," he says. "This is an investigation, Scarlett."
"Do you know who he actually is?"
"The M.E. is still working to absolutely confirm they are not the same person, then it will go from there. That's all I can tell you."
I snatch the folder he handed me at the beginning of the conversation. "That's fine. I can just find out everything I need to know from here."
"That's just a bunch of pictures of the autopsy and the inside of the freezer. You could probably find out a lot of stuff from in there, but not what you want to," he says. "You need to go ahead and let it go, Scarlett. We've got it from here. If we need to know anything else about the house or finding the body, we'll get in touch."
I gasp and press a hand to my chest. Beside me, Gavin grasps my arm.
"Scarlett? Are you alright?" he asks.
I fan myself and run one hand over my dress, pulling it tight against my belly to show off the rounded curve to Jimmy. "Can you get me some water?" I ask. "The heat is really getting to me. To us."
My eyelashes have no shame. They flutter with the best of them, even with Gavin by my side and a baby rolling around in my belly.
Jimmy's eyes open almost impossibly wide, and he bounds to his feet.
"Of course," he says.
He scurries out of the room, and as soon as he does, I grab the other folder he'd been holding. I reach under my dress and tuck it into the back of my massive pregnancy panties. These things are magic. They keep me comfy and never seem to find the end of their stretching.
"What are you doing?" Gavin hisses under his breath.
I shake my head and wave my hand to quiet him.
"I need to find out what he's not going to tell me," I whisper.
Just that second, Jimmy comes back into the room, carrying a large cup of water and a bag of salted peanuts. He puts both in front of me.
"Wow, Scarlett. I had no idea you're pregnant. That's... wow," he says.
I swallow down a few gulps of water and open the peanuts to crunch through a few.
"Thank you for this," I say. "If that's all you want to tell us, we're going to go ahead and go," I say.
"Sure," Jimmy says. "Like I said, if we need anything else from you, we'll get in touch."
"Absolutely." I take another deep swallow of water. "Thanks again."
I leave the office as quickly as I can without breaking into a full run. Gavin follows close behind, and we don't slow to a normal pace until we're in the car. I pull the folder from my underwear and take another handful of peanuts.
"Did you seriously just officially announce your pregnancy to use it as a strategic move so you could steal a police file?" Gavin asks as we drive away.
"I was a Girl Scout briefly when I was young. We'll call it using my resources wisely. Besides, I needed to tell everybody eventually. This is as good a time as any," I shrug.
"And you don't think he's going to notice his file just disappeared?" he asks.
I shrug. "We'll figure that out when it comes down to it. I had to get a hold of it."
"Why?"
"He wasn't going to tell me anything else they found out about the body," I say. I feel like it's enough of an explanation, but the expression on Gavin's face tells me different. "Look, I know that he says that body has been dead for a long time, but that doesn't change what I saw last year. I know I witnessed that murder. No one is taking me seriously. I don't care. I saw a stabbing; then I started getting threatening notes, then I found a body in a house I'm selling. That seems like a whole lot of coincidences for one year in a small town, don't you think?" I ask.
"So, what do you want to do?" he asks.
"I want to read everything in this file and find out what's going on. This has to stop."
Chapter Thirty-Six
Gavin
Scarlett sits on a pillow beside the coffee table with the file open in front of her. Papers scattered across the surface of the table remind me of many nights spent eating dinner with my work as my only companion. She looks up at me as I come back into the room after calling Beck.
"Is he upset?" she asks. "You don't have to stay here. I know you're here to be with Beck and Ruby. You really should go back there and hang out with them for a while.”
"Yes, that's why I came, but right now, that's not what matters. They understand. Especially after I told them what happened," I say.
"You told them?" she asks, her voice rising slightly. “About me finding the body in the house?”
"They already knew," I defend myself. "You didn't seriously think something like a dead body showing up in a house is going to stay a secret in Shadow Creek?"
"Probably not," she says with a sigh. "But I was hoping for at least a twenty-four-hour buffer. At least a tiny bit of a head start before everyone swoops in on me."
The words are no sooner out of her mouth than the living room door flies open, and three people tumble in. Scarlett sweeps her hand through the air, presenting them.
"Like I said."
"You found a body?" a girl with dark almond-shaped eyes and her summer patriotism on full display with cut-off jeans and a flag-emblazoned tank top asks. "And you didn't call me?"
The three look familiar. It takes a few seconds for me to remember these are the people I saw rush up to Scarlett last Halloween.
"Gavin, this is my best friend, Sylvia. Her brother, Jackson. And his girlfriend, Betsy," Scarlett introduces.
"I remember seeing them at the corn maze," I tell her.
Sylvia's eyes widen even further. "You," she gasps. "You're the superhero."
"Gavin," Scarlett says.
"Gavin," Sylvia repeats.
I smile and nod. "I have only just recently learned of my secret identity, but, yes, that's me."
Sylvia looks like she's going to burst with questions, and Scarlett nods, understanding what she's thinking through the close knowledge that comes from years of such close friendship.
"He knows," she says. "And so does Jimmy, now, so you don't have to try to pretend I'm fat anymore."
"She pretended you were fat?" I ask.
"Not my plan. That was totally her," she says.
Sylvia crosses her arms over her chest. "I was trying to be courteous and not tell anyone like you asked."
Scarlett laughs. "I appreciate it. But I think we've gone past that point, so we can talk about it now."
"Are we talking about you being pregnant?" Jackson asks.
<
br /> Sylvia turns a shocked look at her brother, but Scarlett just laughs again. "My cover's blown."
"Can we please get back to the body?" Betsy asks. Everybody looks at her. "I'm sorry. Congratulations!" She throws her hands up in the air in celebration.
"That's right," Sylvia says. "You found a dead body and didn't call me?"
And we've come back full circle.
"I'm sorry. Things got a little chaotic. Besides, I didn't know how you would react to an actual corpse, with how well you did with the fake ones last Halloween," Scarlett says.
"Probably a good call," her best friend agrees. "What happened?"
Scarlett tells them a brief version of the story of how she found the body. "But I don't want people knowing what's going on. So, replace the baby secret with this one."
"On it," Sylvia says. "What do you know so far?"
The three settle into place around us, and Sylvia looks down at the papers spread across the table.
"There was an ID card with the body. It was dated almost thirty years ago. The name on it was Matthew Branson. But that's not the dead man. The body is a few inches too short. He also seems older than the ID would suggest. Other than that, the similarities are pretty striking," Scarlett says.
"What we don't know is why he would have this ID, and what that means for his death. The cause of death hasn't been determined yet, but obviously someone was trying to cover up something," I say.
"What do you think this has to do with last year?" Jackson asks.
"I don't know," Scarlett admits. "But, like I told Gavin, it seems far too coincidental."
"But you still don't even know what you saw last year," he tells her. "Your mind might be making those connections because you're so convinced of what you think happened. But there is still nothing that shows this has anything to do with that."
"That's pretty much the consensus. But I'm not giving up. I can't just think I happen to have watched someone get killed and then find a body, all within less than a year. Even though it's not the same man, I just have to believe they're connected. If no one else is going to try to figure out how, then it's up to me," she says.
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