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I gulp as I start reading the article. A girl who was at the gig last night was found in the early hours of the morning, strangled and raped.
How is this still happening? How have the police not found who is behind all of this?
"Sure, okay," Cole says, his voice pulling me back to the car. He hangs up and turns to face me. "You read the article?"
I nod, my mouth too dry to say anything further.
"They found Crawford's DNA on this body too, so the search for him has been ramped up to a priority."
"Shit!" Travis hisses from the driver's seat, while my heart rate increases to dangerous levels.
We’re going to get caught.
"Did Bentley find anything in those emails?" Asher asks beside me.
"Not yet, he hasn’t said anything," Travis responds, gripping the wheel so tight that his knuckles are turning white.
"This is all my fault," I whisper as I curl up into a tight ball. "I should have just gone to the police."
Cole scratches the back of his neck. "Not a good idea. Plus, there's more. This body came with a note."
"A note?" Travis asks, and Sawyer takes my hand, holding it tightly.
"Yeah. It mentioned Briar. Wes suggested we maybe get some protection for her. Since they have the DNA evidence, they think Crawford is coming for her. Only, we know different, so we need to either speak to the police about what really happened, or we need help to look into this properly."
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Travis shouts, hitting the top of the steering wheel.
"It’s going to be okay, Beautiful," Asher says, trying to reassure me, but his words fall flat.
They keep talking throughout the drive home, but I retreat into my own little bubble of panic and terror, trying to make sense of it all, and work out how the fuck I keep them safe and clear of what I did.
They can’t be punished for it.
Maybe I should just go to the police myself, turn myself in. Tell them I moved the body because I was scared.
If I end up going to prison… well, I deserve to. I killed someone. They don’t deserve to be punished for my actions.
Before I know it, we’re pulling up at the house, and I can hear the dogs barking before I’m even out of the car.
"Wait here," Travis says sharply before climbing from the car. He runs toward the house, and I realize why he said what he did.
There is a large white envelope hanging from a knife that has been pushed into the front door. Travis pulls down the sleeve of his hoodie and yanks the knife from the door before putting it on the bench on the porch.
He leans down and grabs the envelope, pulling the paper from it. His brow furrows as a deep frown appears on his face. His fist tightens, the paper crumpling a little before he yells.
He turns his back on us and pulls his phone from his pocket.
"I’m going to just…" Cole trails off and climbs from the car.
Travis hands him the envelope when he reaches him and strides off around the porch with his phone to his ear. Cole glances at the paper, then turns to look back up at me.
He motions for us, so the twins finally let me out of the car and an icy drop of dread runs down my spine as we approach the house. Cole hands me the envelope, which I take with shaking hands.
I gasp when I see what's inside.
Photos.
Some of me running from Crawford. Others of Travis carrying me to the car. More of the others carrying Crawford's body.
