I slip my fingers along the cracks, drag the piece of wood off the entrance, and a cold chill slithers down my spine. Does he want me to go inside? I shiver again at the thought, getting a really bad case of the heebie-jeebies. Then I think of Sawyer in that lake, drowning … of him coming into my room that day and asking for my help … of me letting him go without finding out what was wrong. I need to do this … for Sawyer … for my dad … for myself.
You can do this, Mak. For him.
Holding my breath, I stick my hand into the dark hole and test how deep it goes. Instead of finding the bottom, my fingers graze what feels like paper. Grabbing it, I pull my arm back up to see what I found.
A large manila envelope.
My gut twists into tight knots. Somehow, I know whatever is inside the envelope isn’t going to be good.
Opening the top flap, I dump out the contents: a small stack of hundred dollar bills; a tiny plastic bag filled with a white, powdery substance that I’m pretty sure is cocaine; a key; a newspaper clipping for a lawn care job; and a small card with a circular symbol printed on it. It’s the same symbol from the card I found in Lispy Larry’s truck and the escorting site.
I fall back on my butt, staring at the contents in horror. “What did you get into, Sawyer?”
Tears sting my eyes as a single thought runs through my mind. One single thought that makes my body run cold with fear.
Is this why you’re dead?
LOCATION: MAK’S HOUSE
TIME: 7:11 AM
DATE: TUESDAY, MARCH 23RD
I wake up the next morning with a killer headache, probably because it took me over an hour to fall back asleep after I flushed Sawyer’s stash of cocaine down the toilet. The rest of the stuff I held on to, though. The contents of the envelope are currently tucked away in the secret nook in my dad’s office.
I lie awake in bed for about half an hour, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for Kennedy to wake up. I can’t stop thinking about everything I found and how I want to find more. I want to connect the dots, find out the truth.
“You sound just like Dad,” Sawyer said to me in my dream, and he was right. I do sound like Dad.
I don’t know if that’s a good thing, considering he went crazy then just disappeared. Regardless, I can’t stop looking, not when I finally found the start of a trail.
Is this how my dad felt all the time? This overwhelming, desperate, addicting need to figure it all out, to get to the truth?
“Good morning,” Kennedy says with a yawn as she sits up on the air mattress. She takes one look at me then frowns. “Why do you look worried?”
I climb out of bed. “Let’s start getting ready for school, and then I’ll tell you.”
As we get dressed and do our hair, I give her a quick recap of what I found last night, minus the drugs. I plan on keeping that tidbit to myself. Maybe forever.
While I don’t fully believe my brother’s drug addiction led to his overdose, I still don’t want any evidence out there that he was a drug addict. It makes me sad to think that my brother was struggling that hard before he died, that he was in such a dark place.
Maybe everyone’s right. Maybe he did just kill himself.
Then why was my dad so strung out on proving Sawyer was murdered? And why did Lispy Larry imply he knew Sawyer didn’t take his own life?
No, I’m not ready to accept my brother’s death as a suicide. I refuse to think anything else until I get to the truth.
“So, what do you think is up with all the help wanted ads?” Kennedy asks after I’ve finished telling her about what I found.
“I have a couple of theories, but they’re a little out there.” I take a seat on my bed and lean over to lace up my sneakers. “One, whoever is placing the ads in the newspaper, which I’m assuming is Lispy Larry since he’s the only person I’ve seen hanging out at the ghost house, is sending secret messages through those ads.”
She sets down the curling iron she’s holding. “Secret messages, Mak? Really? Isn’t that a little bit out there?”
“I’m not done yet.” I stand up and slip on a dark green button-down jacket over my black tank top. “Another theory I have is that the person placing those ads—aka, Lispy Larry—is luring people into the house so he can kidnap them.”
She tousles her hair with her fingers. “Why would Lispy Larry want to kidnap people? I know the guy’s a total weirdo and everything, but kidnapping seems a bit extreme.”
“Maybe because he’s a sick, twisted freak.” I sling the handle of my backpack over my shoulder. “Or maybe he’s running a sex trafficking business along with his drug trafficking.”
“That’s a bit out there, too. Plus, you said your dad never proved he was drug trafficking.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t disprove it, either.”
“You really think someone like Lispy Larry could be behind some huge ring of drug and sex trafficking?” she asks skeptically, shutting off the curling iron.
I head for my bedroom door. “I never said he was the only one behind it, just that he was in on running it.”
She collects her purse and books from off my bed. “I know this is going to sound a bit strange coming from me, Miss Adventure Adventurous, but if you really believe Lispy Larry is doing all of this, then maybe you should go to the police.”
“I can’t yet. I don’t have enough proof.”
“You could always show them what you found.”
“What, a few newspaper clippings and an escort site that we can’t even log on to?” I grasp the doorknob, shaking my head. “Trust me; my dad had more proof than that about Sawyer’s death, and the police still wouldn’t do anything. Plus, this is the mayor’s son we’re talking about. If we’re going to prove someone like him did actually kidnap people, we have to find some factual, hard evidence.”
“How do we do that, exactly? We’re not cops. We should really let them handle it.”
Like they handled my brother’s death, my dad’s disappearance, and all those missing persons’ cases.
“I need more proof before I do that. I’m hoping maybe Liam might know something about the site and the logo.” As I pull open the door, the scent of bacon and eggs immediately engulfs my nostrils.
“I thought you said we were having Pop-Tarts,” Kennedy says, exchanging a puzzled look with me. “Is your mom here?”
“She wasn’t supposed to be, but …” I walk down the hallway and into the kitchen where my mom is standing in front of the stove, dressed in her scrubs and apron, pans hissing from the stovetop.
Two things confuse me about the scene in front of me. For starters, my mom wasn’t supposed to get off work until ten. Second, the last time my mom cooked breakfast was over a year ago, back when Sawyer was alive.
“Hey, honey,” my mom says when she spies me lingering in the doorway. “I got off work early, so I thought I’d come home and make us some breakfast.” She flips off the burner, sets down the fork she’s holding, and opens the top cupboard. “I noticed Kennedy’s car out front. Did she sleepover last night?”
“Yeah. And thanks for letting me stay.” Kennedy appears by my side, hugging her books to her chest. “Sorry I came over so late. My dad was just in a grumpy mood, and I needed a break.”
“That’s perfectly okay. You know you’re always welcome here.” She stacks three plates on the countertop. “I made more than enough eggs and bacon, so feel free to eat as much as you want.” She begins shoveling eggs onto the plates.
Kennedy looks at me, as if waiting for my permission, but I don’t budge.
“Why’d you get off work early?” I ask, leaning against the doorjamb with my arms crossed.
“I was tired.” She grabs a plate of bacon and eggs then pulls out a chair at the table. “I’ve been working a lot of late shifts, trying to make sure we don’t get behind on bills.”
I press my lips together at the mention of bills, dying to ask her about the hefty deposit I noted in her checking account, but then I�
��d just be outing that I snooped.
She’s about to dive into her eggs when she glances over at us. “Aren’t you girls going to eat?”
“We don’t have time. We need to be at the school early to work on a project for English.” Not a complete lie. We do need to be at school early, but to meet up with Liam.
“Well, at least take some bacon with you.” She pushes away from the table, tears a couple of paper towels off the roll, and places a few slices of bacon on each. “Here you go. I swear it’s good. I didn’t even burn it this time.” She says it like she cooks all the time when she doesn’t.
“Thanks.” Kennedy smiles at her as she takes a paper towel full of bacon.
I take the offered bacon from my mom, eyeing her over, wondering over the real reason she’s home early and why she cooked us breakfast. Because she was out all night with Don and feels guilty about it? Is cooking breakfast her way of trying to alleviate her guilt?
“Let’s go,” I say to Kennedy, turning for the front door.
I don’t know what my mom’s up to, but I’ve got bigger problems at the moment.
“Oh, wait, Mak. I forgot to ask you something,” my mom calls out before we even make it to the front door.
The tension in her tone instantly makes me edgy.
I turn to Kennedy. “I’ll be out in just a sec.”
Kennedy nods, and then her heels click against the linoleum as she walks out the door.
I turn to my mom, adjusting the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder. “What’s up?”
She leaves the kitchen, coming to stand in the foyer with me. “I was just wondering if you went anywhere last night.” She fiddles with the tie on her apron. “Like, up by that turnoff near Kennedy’s.”
I hesitate, attempting to get a read on why she’s asking, on how much she knows. “No. Why?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” A mixture of relief and annoyance washes across her face. “A co-worker of mine thought he saw your car up there, but I figured it wasn’t.”
I want to ask her a thousand questions, but I doubt she’ll divulge the truth and would likely get pissed off that I followed her around. I opt to keep my lips shut while she stares at me silently, and I do the exact same thing to her.
Look at us, mother and daughter, two little liars.
“I need to get going,” I finally say, breaking the tension. “We’re already running late.”
“Hold on just a second,” she says as I’m reaching for the front door. “I need to talk to you about Bria Brookenrose. Have you heard anything around school about her?”
My hand falls to my side as I slowly face her. “I heard that she died.”
She chews nervously on her bottom lip. “Is that all you heard?”
I hesitate. “A couple of assholes were saying something about how she and Sawyer made a suicide pact, but I don’t believe it.”
“I heard that, too,” she utters with wide eyes.
“Do you believe it?” I hold my breath, fearing her answer.
“I don’t really know what to believe anymore.” Her eyes begin to water, but she inhales deeply, sucking the tears back. “I spoke to Bria’s mom when she came into the hospital to … identify the body.” She sucks in a tremulous breath, dabbing her tears away with her fingertips.
Worried she’s about to lose it, I reach out and take her hand, and she holds on tightly.
“But, anyway, I really think we should go to the funeral to pay our respects.”
“Okay,” I say. “But, Mom, with the rumors going around … are you sure the Brookenroses even want us there?”
She releases my hand. “No one believes those rumors, Mak. And the police already declared her death as an accidental drowning.”
“Did they do a toxicology report on her?”
“Yes, but what does that matter?”
“Was there morphine in her system?” Like there was in Sawyer’s system when he died.
“I have no idea.” Her forehead furrows into a scowl. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I know your brother, and while he may have been struggling with his own personal demons, he would never talk another human being into taking their own life.”
If she really did know him, why didn’t she know about what was hidden underneath his closet floor?
“That’s not what I’m getting at,” I say. But the truth is, after what I found in my brother’s bedroom last night, I feel like I have no clue who Sawyer is, and maybe I never did. Still, I can’t help thinking about my dad’s theory that Sawyer was murdered. What if he was and the killer killed Bria, too? What if they kill again? What if they’re behind a lot of the deaths in Shadow Cove?
She folds her arms, her eyes remaining narrowed. “Then what are you getting at? Because you’re really starting to sound like your dad.”
“So what if I am? Maybe Dad was on to something.”
“Like what? That the town is involved in some sort of murder conspiracy?” The ridicule in her tone makes my jaw tick.
No, Mom, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m saying that, if someone killed Sawyer like Dad believed, then maybe they killed Bria, too. And the coroner’s report could prove that.
“Nothing. Never mind. Forget I said anything.” I yank open the door to leave.
“The funeral’s on Saturday,” she tells me as I step over the threshold. “We’ll ride over together.”
“Okay.” I shut the door then trot down the front porch, breathing in the crisp morning air.
One of the main reasons my father believed Sawyer’s death was not a suicide was because of the morphine in his system. Not only is morphine a pain in the ass to get ahold of, at least according to my dad’s research notes, but he also mentioned it didn’t make sense that Sawyer would go through all the trouble to get the morphine when he could’ve just raided my mom’s stash of sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet. Plus, there were these strange scratches on his arms and legs, like tree branches clawed him.
I want to know if Bria had morphine in her system and what her cause of death was listed as, if she had the scratches, too. I want to get my hands on the coroner’s report.
And I might know a way to do it.
LOCATION: MAK’S CAR
TIME: 7:49 AM
DATE: TUESDAY, MARCH 23RD
Kennedy decides to ride with me to school and leave her car parked at my house. We pick up Embry and Ev on the way. During the ten-minute drive from Embry’s house to the school, I tell them about the madness that happened yesterday, starting from when Kennedy and I tailed Liam all the way up to when I had an idea of how to get ahold of Bria’s coroner’s report. By the time I’m finished, we’ve made it to school, and Ev looks on the verge of yacking up her breakfast.
“Mak, I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea,” Ev says, as pale as a vampire. “I mean, it’s one thing to sneak in and look at the security footage of a school—which, just so you know, I had nightmares about—but tricking a coroner into giving us Bria’s report …” She shakes her head. “That’s too illegal. I just can’t do it.”
“You’re not going to do it. Embry and I are later today.” I rotate around in my seat and stick out my fist to Embry. “Right, Em?”
She flips her newly dyed, pale purple hair off her shoulder and gives me a fist bump with zero hesitation. “I’m always down for a little rebellion. My parents have been on a real I-forgot-I-have-kids kick, anyway, so it’s about time I remind them that they’re completely wrong.”
“But we’re not going to get caught”—I check the time on the dashboard, noting that Liam should be here any minute—“so they probably won’t ever find out.”
“You can’t be so sure you won’t get caught. And if you do, you could go to jail.” Ev blows out an exasperated breath. “Maybe you could just ask Bria’s mom about whatever it is you need to know.”
I get her point—I really do—but I can’t let this go. I need to find out how Bria died, if her death was like Sawyer’s, if
there was anything suspicious about her death other than the fact that she died in the same place as my brother did. And asking Bria’s parents will only cause drama and more than likely upset everyone. I’m nervous enough that we’re even attending the funeral with the rumors floating around town about the suicide pact.
“We won’t get caught. And even if we did, my dad was like this”—I hold up my crossed fingers—“with Legend.”
Ev’s brows dip. “Who’s Legend?”
“The coroner,” I say like duh.
“You say that like it’s so obvious.” Kennedy flips down the visor and leans close to the mirror as she applies yet another layer of face powder over her injured cheek. “Sorry, Mak. Love you to death and beyond, but you’re the only one in this car twisted enough to know a guy who examines dead bodies for a living.”
“That’s not true. After today, Embry will, too.”
“It’ll be pretty interesting to meet him so I can see how my future’s going to turn out,” Embry says, digging out a stick of gum from her bag. She offers a piece to Ev, and Ev accepts, popping the gum in her mouth. “Because, according to everyone here”—she gestures around at the people loitering around the school parking lot—“that’s what my career is going to be. Well, either that or a serial killer.”
“People suck, Em; you should know that by now.” Kennedy’s hand drifts to her cheek. She may have caked on enough makeup to hide the mark, but it doesn’t hide the anger in her voice as she says, “Just remember, one day, we’re going to get out of Shadow Cove, and all this shit will be behind us. No one will hurt us anymore.”
Embry and Ev look from Kennedy to me. I shrug, wanting to tell them about the mark on her cheek, but knowing Kennedy, she will lose her shit if I do.
“Are you okay?” Ev asks Kennedy worriedly. “Your hand’s shaking.”
Kennedy jerks her hand away and puts on a plastic smile. “Yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking about some stuff.”
What Lies in the Darkness (Shadow Cove Book 1) Page 12