Naomi glances at her rearview for the third time in thirty seconds, wondering why the same Toyota Corolla has been tailing her since Maine.
She wonders if the Scotts have sent their henchmen after her, imagining them bullying her off the road before they smash her phone and laptop to pieces to ensure she didn’t record anything. Or maybe it’s an undercover police officer about to pull her over and arrest her, if you can even do that for crashing a funeral.But surely undercover police officers and henchmen drive something fancier than a Toyota, she thinks. If it was a black SUV, she’d be really nervous.
Naomi inhales, willing herself to relax before pressing on the accelerator. She’s done things like this plenty of times in her career. Snuck into places, pretended to be someone else to get intel. But she’s never once felt this anxious about it, even the times she’s been found out.
How the hell did Sam Brixton know who I was? Before I even said anything?
She’s baffled. She’s only ever talked to the administrative staff at Machinist and his agency, never met or seen him in person. Has he memorized what every single journalist covering the case looks like? Seems an odd thing for someone of his importance to worry about. Then again, her article on Harlow did just go viral a few days ago, so perhaps he recognized her from her headshot. She realizes then her mistake, cursing herself for being careless.
Thinking of Sam, Naomi recalls her conversation with Emily last night and how she mentioned Jade attended a pre-VMAs party at his house before she disappeared and subsequently died. Naomi knows these sorts of parties are far from intimate affairs, especially those that take place at fancy mansions before big industry events. There would have been hundreds of people coming in and out all night, but it’s a connection between Jade and Colton and Harlow that can’t be ignored.
Harlow must’ve been there too, Naomi thinks, betting it’s one of the links prosecutors found as well. She wishes she could confirm with Sam but knows she’s blown any chance of that now.
Did something happen at the party that upset Harlow? Did Jade do something in particular that set her off?
Naomi imagines Jade and Colton kissing in a secluded space at the modern estate, no idea that Harlow, seething with rage, was watching. Still, why would Harlow kill Jade then, but wait years to enact revenge on Colton? No, it doesn’t make sense.
Naomi thinks back to the serial killer theory and shudders as goosebumps prickle her arms.Was Jade her first victim, then Bill Lever, and then, before Colton… Faye?
The thought of her sister being entangled in all this is haunting.What’s the pattern, though? Was Harlow picking off beautiful, aspiring musicians she felt threatened by? And then Colton and Bill Lever were just for fun?
Stomach twisting in knots, Naomi tries to rein in her thoughts. She’s missing too many pieces to draw proper conclusions. Even if the events surrounding her sister’s death seem suspicious in retrospect, Naomi has no evidence or reason to suggest Faye could’ve been murdered by Harlow.
You’re getting too absorbed in the case, she warns herself.Don’t blur lines between Jade and Faye, they’re completely separate.
But are they?a voice questions, before immediately being contradicted by another.
Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.
*
Naomi breathes a sigh of relief as she pulls up to her aunt’s house in Poughkeepsie, the Toyota no longer in sight. But the relief soon shifts to discomfort after she kills the engine, the once-welcoming atmosphere now unnerving. Devoid of daylight and the buzz of partygoers, fog hovers over the ground, obscuring the front entryway path save for a single lamppost that flickers in the dark.
Naomi takes a minute to open the car door, recalling Aunt Mary’s friend’s words from the party about fog and spirits.“When it’s foggy out… spirits are able to more easily enter.”She surveys the hilltop property in the woods, wondering if Faye’s spirit is trying to break through to tell her something, or if something more sinister lies in wait… if someone had followed her here and is now lurking in the shadows. She tells herself to stop being ridiculous, before huffing out an exhale and pushing the car door open. Her heart races as she grabs her bag from the back seat and speed-walks to the front door.
Naomi digs the nails of her shaky index fingers into the cuticles of her thumbs, constantly glancing around as she waits for Aunt Mary to answer. Naomi should’ve called beforehand to give her an estimated time of arrival, but she’d been too distracted on the way back.
“Hey hun,” Aunt Mary says, opening the door. The smell of tomatoes and garlic mingles with her perfume as she leans in for a kiss. “How was your trip?”
“Good, thanks.” Naomi scrapes the bottom of her black heels on the welcome mat, kicking them off after her aunt ushers her inside. “Definitely made better by having a car, so thanks again.” She holds up the keys and hands them over.
“Oh, anytime,” Aunt Mary says, taking the keys and placing them on the sideboard. “Want some ziti? I saved you some. Wasn’t sure when you’d be getting back.”
“I’m okay—thank you, though! I have to get going soon if I want to get the next train.”
“Need a ride? I’ve only had one glass of wine so far...”
“No, I’ll get an Uber, honestly, you relax. Been such a busy weekend for you!”
Naomi senses the relief in her aunt’s expression.
“Okay, hun, as long as you’re sure.”
“There is one thing I was hoping to do, though, before I head back to the city.” Naomi chews on her lip. Aunt Mary, who has returned to drying dishes, cocks her head to the side.
“Do you still have Faye’s things here? Those boxes I left you…” Naomi picks at the scab on her thumb.
Aunt Mary studies Naomi, clearly concerned. “Course I do. Everything okay?”
