Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Outside the narrow bathroom window, something caught my attention and I stopped to get a better look outside. The lights streaming out of the house illuminated only half of the vast backyard. A figure was making his way across the lawn, and in the last few moments before the figure was swallowed by darkness, I could make out who it was: Devon.
What was he doing out there?
I’d thought he was in Francesca’s room having fun. I checked my watch. It had been an hour since I’d seen him come upstairs with her. They were probably long finished with whatever they’d done. But still . . .. I should trail him to find out where he was heading.
Suddenly, screams ripped through the constant boom of the music, through the drunken laughter and singing. They multiplied, mingled, rose in volume. It was clear that they weren’t shouts of glee; they were cries of terror. I flung open the door and dashed down the stairs, then out of the house and into the garden where the noise was coming from. More and more people were gathering in the backyard.
Alec appeared at my side.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. He stretched to get a look over the heads of the other guests who hustled around us. But my eyes dropped to the ground, where a fine trail of mist curled around my ankles.
The feeling left my legs.
A sudden hush fell over the crowd.
“Is she dead?”
“What happened to her?”
“She’s not moving.” The whispers carried over to us and then the sobbing began.
There was a figure lying on the grass. She was completely still. And I knew without a doubt that this wasn’t a person who’d passed out from one too many drinks.
The killer had been here. He’d found his next victim.
Another murder. Right under our very noses.
“Oh god,” someone whispered. “She’s dead.”
Alec pushed past the growing mass of spectators. My body bristled at the thought of getting any closer, but I followed. We fought our way to the middle of the circle that had formed around the body. Alec crouched beside the body and I stopped short behind him. He pressed two fingers against her throat, searching for a pulse. That’s when I saw her face. It was Francesca. Killed in her own home.
A wire curled around her neck. Blood trailed down her throat, trickling to her bra. Her shirt had been torn and an A had been cut into the skin above her rib cage. Hints of dewdrops and white frost dotted her clothes—the remnants of fog.
Francesca’s face was turned toward me, a cold and hollow look in her lifeless eyes. They were accusing. If I’d worked harder, maybe then she’d be alive.
I turned away, lost in the whirlwind of voices around me. I pushed my way through the crowd, elbows rammed into my sides, shoulders against my back. In the distance I could hear the sound of sirens.
I made it a few steps away from the other guests, to the part of the yard that lay shrouded in darkness, and leaned against an old tree, the rough bark pressing into my forehead. Devon had disappeared into the unlit part of the backyard just moments before the screams had started. He’d been outside when Francesca had been killed and he’d been the last person I’d seen with her.
“It’s not your fault. You’re doing your best. We all are.”
I jumped at the sound of Alec’s voice. Couldn’t he leave me alone for one fucking moment?
“Oh, so that’s what you think now? You sounded really different there in the kitchen.”
He raised his hands. “Whoa. Calm down.” He lowered his voice. “I’m just worried about you.”
A police car and an ambulance pulled up at the curb and Alec turned to watch them. I used the moment to slip away; I couldn’t stand to be around him right now.
I turned back toward the house. The police officers and the paramedics ran straight to the backyard, and began their attempts to resuscitate Francesca but I knew they wouldn’t be successful.
Ana stood on the front porch, her face blotchy and her eyes red-rimmed. She stumbled toward me. I wasn’t sure if her wobbly gait was due to alcohol or shock. She bumped into me, nearly knocking me over. I hugged her and she slumped against me. My own legs felt like they might give way.
“Oh god, Maddy, did you see her? He was here! He killed her. Killed her.” Her words came out jumbled and mingled with sobs.
I pulled away, my eyes searching the throngs of people on the porch and in the doorway. There wasn’t a sign of Devon anywhere. I doubted he had returned but maybe someone had seen him moments before the murder. I needed to go looking for him.
“Have you seen Devon?”
Ana rubbed her eyes. “No. Haven’t seen him in a while. Why? Do you think he’s safe?”