“Off the path,” Harper’s brother, Jake, commands. “Keep it clear.”
I rise on tiptoe and look toward the river shrouded in fog, trying to figure out who was screaming and why. A journalist on the scene covering the event calls out questions the officers ignore. They just command the rubberneckers to back up, clear out as Jake speaks into his walkie-talkie. “Possible body in the water. Request Fire and EMS. Close both ends of the bridge.”
A possible body.
My heart thuds in my ears, a dull echo as I make sense of the implications. Then I spot them—Chief Perry ushering Brynn Alcott away, toward one of the picnic tables, while Caleb Briggs and Brady Keller follow uncertainly behind. Three of my classmates.
“Where are you going?” Harper asks as I squeeze between her and Naomi, doubling back so I can get closer to that picnic table.
Jude comes with me.
We stay in the shadows, ears perked as Chief Perry crouches in front of Brynn and attempts to calm her. Visibly shaking, she keeps repeating the same frantic words, over and over.
“It was a body. It was a body. I saw a dead body.”
Under the park’s lights, the boys have lost their coloring. Caleb stands there like a marionette without his strings. Brady is more animated, shifting his weight with his hands on his head.
A volunteer brings Brynn a blanket.
But it doesn’t help.
She seems to be in full blown shock.
Caleb and Brady aren’t much better.
Chief Perry orders one of his officers to stay with them—to keep them separated, to call their parents. He flags down a volunteer to bring them water and more blankets.
Thirty minutes later, Night of the Howl has become a crime scene, with flashing lights and yellow tape and privacy screens and reporters. Jude and I stay. So do Twig and Harper and Naomi. We watch in silence as EMS wheels a body board toward the bank of the river, passing an officer on her way. He’s holding a clear bag.
Inside?
A pair of bent pixie wings.
A piece of Ivy Winslow’s Halloween costume.
I step inside the carriage house feeling like a rag doll. Dad stands from his recliner, his face pale and strained.
“Hey kiddo,” he says.
All I can do is nod in return.
Behind him, a breaking news banner scrolls across the bottom of our television. Above it, Ivy Winslow’s school picture fills one side of the screen while a subdued Karen Foster talks on the other. “… her remains were found during Night of the Howl, an annual event in Foggy Hollow.”
I take a step closer.
The segment transitions to a reporter on scene, standing in front of police tape while emergency lights flash by the river and the first snowflakes of the season begin to fall. “The body was discovered at approximately 7:21 p.m. during a community storytelling event in Willowmere Park. Chief Perry has confirmed the remains are those of seventeen-year-old Ivy Winslow. Her family has been notified. Police are asking anyone with information to come forward.”
Back in the newsroom, Karen sits behind her desk. “Ivy was last seen Halloween night at acemetery party that took a troubling turn. Two girls went missing that evening. Lainey Sikes returned last week. Ivy Winslow remained missing. Until today’s discovery.”
A photo of Ivy’s decorated locker appears, followed by footage of search efforts.
“Over the past two weeks, the community of Foggy Hollow has come together to search for Ivy, to search for answers. Now, it seems, they have at least one. Ivy Winslow has been found, but tragically, not alive. The investigation is ongoing. We will bring you updates as more information becomes available.”
The segment transitions to the weather.
“I can’t imagine,” Dad mutters, scrubbing his hand down his face. “I just can’t imagine.”
I stare at the television as the chief meteorologist of WMTM News 12 talks about light flurries tonight and tomorrow, with no real accumulation. All the while, I can’t stop picturing it—Ivy violently yanked into the Overlay. The twisted, terrified look on her face right before she combusted into flame.
