“Did he or she, the one who murdered you, know Audrey found your locket?”
“He. She. Does it matter? I’m dead. If you don’t want the same fate, maybe it shouldn’t matter to you so much.”
“Don’t you want to be found, for your case to be solved?”
“I don’t see why it matters anymore. Although …”
The words trailed off, and she stood there, silent.
“What were you about to say?” I asked.
“It would be nice to leave this place.”
“Did you ever consider you might be stuck here because your murder hasn’t been solved?”
She shrugged. “Answers end things. Questions keep them alive.”
“Is that your fear? You think if you’re found, you won’t be remembered anymore? Or that no one cared enough to keep looking until they found out what happened to you?”
“A bit of both, I suppose.”
“I’ll remember you, and I care.”
“Yeah, you care about Audrey.”
“And you.”
She looked at me as if to say, “Prove it.”
“I was placed where the land stayed still, where no one thought to look twice. I wasn’t missing,” she said. “I was hidden, until the truth refused to stay silent. What am I?”
“Bones. Your bones. I thought they would be here, but they are not.”
She turned, pointing toward the doorway, then past it, into the darkness beyond. “They’re not here. Not anymore.”
“If not here, then where?”
“Follow the water, not the path, to the place where two are one.”
“Water,” I said. “What water?”
“It’s time for you to go now.”
“No, wait. I have more questions.”
She went quiet, stepping backward, fading a little and then a little more until she was gone, and I was the only one left in the room. I squeezed my eyes shut, and when they opened, I woke with the echo of Anne’s words still clinging to me:
Follow the water.
Not the path.
To the place where two are one.
28
A text message from Talia came through just after eight the next morning.
Any updates? I’ve heard a few things. I’m not sure what’s true and what isn’t.
