She flicked to the next photos. These were of the forest. The river.
Polly frowned when she reached the last image. It was of the old Connoway mansion, which had been abandoned ages ago. Like, over thirty years ago. There were actually rumors that it was haunted, but she didn’t believe in that stuff.
She clicked out of the photos and opened the message conversations to see just one text thread. She scrolled up to the start.
Phone owner: I know what you’re doing. I know you’re drugging these women with Rohypnol then drowning them.
Air froze in Polly’s lungs, but she forced herself to continue reading.
Unknown Number: Who is this?
Phone owner: I know who you are and what you’re doing. And I’m going to prove it.
There was a small break in the texts, then the other person wrote back about two weeks later.
Unknown number: I’ve been doing some digging of my own. I know who you are, Eileen. And you’re going to regret sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.
An alarm dinged and she jumped.
Get your ass to work. The alarm flashed on her screen.
Shit. She had to go. She grabbed her bag and was about to leave, but at the last second, slipped the burner into her jeans pocket before grabbing her cell and keys and flying out the door.
The entire drive, the text thread flickered in her head. Someone had been looking into Maggie’s mother’s death.Andlinked her death to two others. How had the owner of this phone connected them when the bodies had never been found? And who was Eileen?
Her heart was still racing as she arrived at work. It had just hit twelve past nine, and two of her workers were already behind the counter, one at the coffee machine, the other taking croissants out of the display cabinet.
When Polly reached the office, she dropped her bag onto the desk, the bright walls in complete contrast with her mood. Maggie and Ethan had helped her repaint using a different shade of yellow. She liked the new color. But right now, she felt far from sunny.
She opened the second drawer of the desk and dropped the burner in before returning to the front. She needed to speak to someone about this. Usually it would be the sheriff, but he was useless.
She’d just stopped at the counter when Jenna, possibly her most regular customer, stepped into the shop.
Polly grabbed the prepared to-go cup from the top of the coffee machine and smiled at the other woman. “Good morning, Jenna.”
Jenna came in every day at exactly nine fifteen for her double shot cappuccino before heading to the pharmacy. She was in her mid-forties and always wore a smile.
She grinned from the other side of the counter, pulling a smaller purse out of her oversized bag. “Morning, Polly. Having a good start to your day?”
Did finding a ten-year-old text thread about unsolved murders count as a good start to her day? “It’s been…interesting. You?”
“Unless you count changing my toothpaste from peppermint to spearmint, my morning has been anything but interesting.”
“Sounds interesting to me.”
Jenna pushed her brown bangs aside and grinned wider. “Then it’s been a hoot. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here.”
Over the next hour, Bloom filled up. Mayor Joe Ferris came in. Anika and Mark took a corner table and, by their intimate body language, were getting along today. Deputy Eli Cox ordered a coffee. And then Maureen entered.
The psychic stepped up to the counter after Cox, tulip in hand. “Good morning, Polly.”
“Hi, Maureen. Your usual?”
“Yes, please, with a slice of apple pie.”
“You got it.”
