CHAPTER 31
LYRA
Ibalanced my phone, keys, wallet, and coffees in my hands, praying that nothing tumbled onto the concrete. The bag of fresh pastries hung between my teeth as I looked around the Toasted Owl parking lot, trying to locate Emory—who was nowhere to be found.
A crowd began to form around the red and blue flashing lights of a cop car. Yellow police tape roped off the area, limiting access to the curious onlookers.
I made my way over, pushing through the growing crowd until I noticed my sister’s long black hair. She’d managed to make her way to the front, showing no shame as she tried to get a better glimpse at what caused the commotion.
A group of elderly women out for their morning walk waved in my direction. I tried to wave back but only managed to spill coffee down the front of my sweatshirt.
I shuffled through the people, coming up behind Emory.
“Here,” I mumbled around the paper bag in my mouth, shoving the coffee into her hand. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Emory whispered. People around us buzzed with nervous anticipation, but the murmurs died down as medics wheeled a gurney with a white sheet covering a body.
A dead body.
“So young and beautiful. She had so much life ahead of her,” one of the older ladies in front said. I kept my eyes plastered to the sheet, dread curling in my stomach. The ladies continued to jabber next to me and I leaned in closer, eavesdropping on their conversation.
“I saw the scene this morning before they came and blocked the whole area off. This will be a big inconvenience while setting up for the fall festival.” My grip tightened around my coffee cup at the insensitive remark.
“From what I saw, it looked like the girl’s neck had been slit. Blood everywhere,” another old lady chimed in. “And all over the original brick of the square. You ladies know how porous brick is. They’ll be scrubbing for days, trying to get it out.”
They all gasped, clutching the actual pearls around their necks. Every one of them looked like they were going to church instead of taking a morning stroll around the square in their long, wrinkle-free dresses and block heels.
“Imagine if they have to replace the brick. It would be such a tragedy.”
The real tragedy was a young woman had been brutally murdered. Not the disruption of the town’s aesthetic.
People sucked.
News like this would spread like wildfire through the town. One thing the residents of Twisted Spires loved was gossip. For such a small town, it sure had a lot of secrets and scandals.
A mess of blonde hair spilled from under the sheet as they loaded the gurney into the ambulance.
My heart sank. Why hadn’t I felt the same thing I did with the other girl? Had I been too distracted last night to notice?
Emory tugged at my elbow, pulling me through the growing mob of spectators. Police officers urged people to disperse as the ambulance tried to get around them.
We broke away from the crowd and walked in silence. I could feel Emory’s stare as I took a sip of my coffee.
Two girls were murdered in less than a week. Both with their throats slit, and I would bet she had the same sigil carved into her stomach. But they couldn’t cover this one up since the whole town basically witnessed it.
Emory whirled around. “What the hell is happening?”
I nervously chewed on the straw before taking a sip. “I don’t know.” I shrugged.
“And Grey?” she asked, pinning me with a hard stare.
“And Grey what?” I asked defensively.
“Who else could be ruthless enough to slit a girl’s throat like that…?”
“I don’t know, maybe the hellhounds prowling around town. Or Mr. Whitethorn, who had him trapped in his basement.” I instantly regretted saying the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. It was one thing to suspect Mr. Whitethorn in my mind, but to voice it out loud seemed like stabbing our families in the back.
“You’re really going to place the blame on Mr. Whitethorn? Someone we grew up with, who we spend more time with than our actual father.” Her voice went cold. “Maybe it was the psychopath demon you’ve known for, like, two seconds.”
