If she hadn't, I one thousand percent would’ve gotten a head, hand, or foot landing in a terribly painful place. It’s a toss-up between my eye, my mouth, or between my legs. Actually, no, she would’ve managed to land at least two out of three.
I get to my feet just as Junie takes off flying down the hallway toward the living room, already intent on wreaking havoc some other way.
Her mother and my best friend, Olive Benderman, meets my gaze with a tired, exasperated expression, though a smile tips up her lips. Junie looks just like her—same sapphire blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair, and face full of freckles.
“I told you when you were pregnant with her she’d never stoprunning,” I remind her, lifting my brows with a ‘you did it to yourself’ look.
“Yeah, well, I was hoping you were wrong for once.”
I scoff. “I’m never wrong.”
Rolling her eyes, she nods for me to follow her inside. “Come in before the paparazzi see you and you have another scandal on your hands. I’m pretty sure Junie already drew with a Sharpie on half the house by now.”
I snort but do as I’m told, instantly greeted by the aroma of marshmallows and vanilla. She has that damn fragrance diffuser running at all hours. If I ever walk into her home and don’t smell that exact scent, something is terribly wrong.
She leads me down the hallway into her kitchen, the dark wooden floors creaking beneath my feet. To the left is the living room,Blueyplaying on the TV while Junie—surprisingly—calmly plays with her Busy House.
I give it eight minutes before she’s back to being a menace.
“So I assume you’ve had people camping out on your lawn,” I surmise as we step down two steps into the living area and sit perpendicular from one another on her L-shaped, gray plush couch.
Junie is sitting on the floor in front of us, completely absorbed in her activity.
Olive scoffs and rolls her eyes derisively. “Since news broke that he got out. They finally started getting bored with me a couple of days ago, when they realized the playground, grocery store, and her preschool didn’t make for a very juicy story.”
I shake my head, hating Junie had to see those fucking vultures stalking them.
However, Olive is unfortunately used to it. Her mother, Olivia, was one of the Locksmith’s more infamous victims, mainly because the discovery of her remains was one of the more morbid.
Olivia went missing August 18th, 2009, from a country bar a couple towns over from Silent Mist. Two months later, an eight-year-old boy discovered their family dog chewing on her leg in the backyard of their farmhouse. When the little boy went in to tell his mother, she lost her mind and called the police. Authorities found the rest of Olivia’s remains buried throughout a corn maze nearby. The officers were constantly getting lost while recovering them, and I guarantee, Lionel didit for his own sick amusement.
But what made it so disturbing is the corn maze being a huge attraction for Silent Mist during Halloween, especially for children. They hosted a variety of activities throughout the fall season and drew in thousands of people, where they unknowingly trampled all over her. Lionel deliberately buried her there before the holidays began, likely hoping someone would discover her in the maze.
What happened to her mother is sick, and Olive has not made her hatred for Lionel D’Amour a secret.
Lionel may never be charged for the murder of Olivia, but as far as Olive’s concerned, that doesn't mean she can't let everyone know she still believes he's the one who did it.
“So, spill,” Olive demands, drawing her knees up and tucking them to the side while arching a brow at me.
“Spill what?” I ask, furrowing my brow and peering at her innocently.
Another eye roll.
“You look like you haven’t slept in a decade, and your knee is bouncing hard enough to shake the entire house,” she states dryly.
My knee freezes. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it, but now that I’ve stopped, the restlessness screams, the urge to resume building until I can’t take it anymore and start bouncing it again.
I groan and swipe a hand roughly down my face. “That’s because I haven’t slept in a fu—” I pause, glance at Junie, and correct myself before letting the expletive fly. The girl is a sponge, and Olive has already credited me for teaching her too many cuss words. “In a decade,” I finish.
Her expression flattens, her eyes half lidded as she gives me a deadpan look.
“Jesus, you’re nosy,” I grumble. “Some shi—stuff went down last night, and my head’s all fu—messed up.”
“You mean besides the S-E-X tape?” she questions, spelling out the word. I absolutely cannot wait for the day Junie learns how to spell and demands to know what that means.
“That wasn’t me.”
She stares blankly. I stare blankly.
