“Lachlan, Hazel. Hazel, Lachlan,” I say, making introductions like the well-adjusted human I am.
“I can drop kick him if you want,” Lach offers.
Hazel sighs and goes slack again. “Maybe just come find me if I start screaming.”
I smile. “See, told you. Officially not a kidnapping.”
Your definition of the law, Flynny, leaves something to be desired.
Out in the corridor, I open the hidden door to the basement and carry Hazel down the stairs. She wobbles a little when I put her on her feet at the bottom and I hold her hips to steady her.
She blinks a couple of times, re-orientating herself, then does a slow turn, taking in the converted basement. Her gaze skates over the intense computer set up on the desk before landing on the pseudo-crime board with surveillance photos of all my victims.
“Oh my god, you have a murder room.”
I lean against the desk and cross my arms. “Technically, does it count as a murder room if you’ve never killed anyone in it?”
Hazel whips around to glare at me. “It’s a room where you plan who you’re going to kill.”
“So more like a murder-plotting room?”
“You—argh!” she cries out in frustration and starts pacing the small room. “Do you realize you’ve just incriminated me in any future murders you plan to commit?”
“Well, there’s only one murder so?—”
“Flynn!” Hazel slices her hand through the air and I drop the jokiness, my voice turning harsh.
“You’re the one who wouldn’t stop digging, Lilac.”
Hazel drags her hands through her hair and turns back to the murder wall. She takes a couple of breaths, her panic receding as she notices the photo in the center of the board. She reaches out, her fingers brushing the long dark hair in the photo.
“Who’s the girl?”
The pressure in my head buzzes and a muted twinge tugs at my heart. “Her name was Hope.”
Hazel’s eyes crease. “I recognize her from your photos displayed at the gallery. She’s older but… is it her?”
She looks back at me and I nod. “She was my sister. Well, half-sister technically.”
Hazel’s throat bobs. “Was?”
“She killed herself five years ago.” Five years after what was done to her at college.
Hazel’s hand falls from the photo. “Flynn…”
I watch as the emotion fills her face, tears shining in her eyes, pain twisting her features. So much emotion for a woman she never knew, and I can barely feel my own heart.
I could watch Hazel all day, just chasing the feelings flickering across her face.
Hope was like that. So full of life. I look over at the photo of her on the murder wall. She’s smiling in it, her eyes full of laughter and her long brown hair caught in the wind. It’s the last photo she ever let me take of her. I should have known something was wrong then, but Hope kept everything a secret until the very end.
“You want to know why I kill, Hazel? I do it for her.” I go over to the board and unpin the photo of Hope. “I used to take photos of her all the time. Then one summer break, she came back from college, and she refused to let me take anymore. Something wasoff with her that whole summer, said she broke up with her boyfriend and that was why. The next year she got better. She graduated, opened a gallery with her best friend, and a few years later gave me my first show. But she still never let me take her photo.”
Hazel’s shoulder brushes against mine, both of us looking down at Hope. “Did you ever find out why?”
I drag my teeth over my lip and nod slowly. I pin the photo back up and go to the desk. “After she died, a letter arrived in the mail from her.” I open the top drawer and take out an old brown envelope. “Inside there was another letter, an old one addressed to Hope, and a memory stick.”
I hesitate, second guessing myself for the first time that I can remember. I didn’t plan to bring Hazel back here. She’s innocence and sunshine, and I don’t want to ruin that by showing her just how fucked up this world can be, but I need her to understand how serious this is. I need her to listen to me when I tell her to stay away.
