“Yeah. Just…don’t let go.”
As Jasmine pulls with all her might, I use my good leg to tryto climb the dirt wall, my arms aching with the effort. My palms are burning.
She stumbles, her jacket snagging against the rough ground, and I wince when her grip falters for a split second.
Breathing hard, I haul myself up slowly, hand over hand. I’m painfully aware of how vulnerable we both are—my cousin with her back to the woods, her full focus on pulling me out. All I can think is that any second now, someone could creep up behind her, push her, grab her…
Finally, with a last, desperate scramble, I reach the edge, and Jasmine tugs me up. We both collapse onto the ground, gasping for breath. My ankle is throbbing, and my entire body trembles with fear and relief.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” my cousin declares.
We race back to the car, gravel flying under the tires as we speed away, leaving the lumberyard shrinking in the rearview mirror.
Maggie and Dan are asleep when we sneak into the house through the mudroom. I’m relieved, because now I don’t have to explain why we’re dirty and Jasmine’s jacket is torn. Or to explain the cut on my cheek where I landed in the pit and a pebble dug into it. Or the bruises on my arm. Or why we came home instead of sleeping over at Gillian’s.
In the car, Jasmine proposed a far-fetched tale involving a game of truth or dare gone wrong, followed by a screeching fightbetween her and Gillian that broke up the slumber party. I doubt Maggie and Dan will buy it, but at the moment, I can’t think of anything better.
We change into our pajamas and climb into our beds without even brushing our teeth. I think we’re both ready for this night to be over. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t fall asleep.
Someone was at the lumberyard.
I didn’t imagine that dark figure in Ellerbee’s house. I didn’t hallucinate those footsteps.
The question is, did the intruder follow us there, or were they already at the lumberyard before we arrived?
I’m finally starting to doze off when my phone vibrates beside my pillow. I roll over to check the screen. It’s past two a.m., but it appears I’m not the only one suffering from insomnia tonight.
UNKNOWN:STOP LOOKING OR I’LL TELL EVERYONE WHO YOU ARE.
twenty-seven
Inconclusive
I need to find the bodies myself.
That’s the only thought in my mind when I awake on Sunday morning. It’s loud and persistent, repeating on a loop.
I need to find the bodies.
On my own.
Before something terrible happens.
Period.
After last night’s terrifying events, punctuated by a new message from my mysterious texter, it’s become clear that I can’t let my cousins keep hunting for those remains. Sooner or later, Jasmine or Connor is going to get hurt. What happened at the lumberyard proves it. Which means the only way to keep them out of harm’s way is to make sure they have nothing to look for.
I’m not interested in the reward. I don’t want a dime of that million dollars. I’d rather die than accept money from the families of my father’s victims, and if I do get something, the Shipleys can have it. What I am interested in is making sure nobody gets hurt on the hunt for it.
The day after we met with the FBI, Maggie let me take aphoto of my dad’s letter so I could have it on my phone. It’s in a hidden folder, and I pull it up now as I lie in bed, wishing I knew what the hell he was talking about. Key phrases jump out at me.
I’ve trusted you with my sparrows.
Make sure they are never disturbed.
Keep them close. Keep them safe.
Keep them close. Is that a clue? Is he saying they’re close?
