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As Hank left the office, Sam leaned back in his chair, his thoughts swirling. Something about Hank’s story didn’t quite add up, but what? He picked up his phone, intending to message Jo for her take on it, but she hadn’t replied to his last message. Where was she?
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
Jo stood frozen just inside the threshold of the dining room, her heartbeat kicking into overdrive at the figures she saw seated around the table. She drew her gun by instinct.
The room was dimly lit, casting elongated shadows across the table. The table was set for a tea party, complete with porcelain cups and saucers, each adorned with intricate floral patterns. A pot of tea sat in the center, steam gently rising from its spout. But it was the guests at this bizarre gathering that seized her attention with a jolt of eerie foreboding.
Looming around the table were giant stuffed animals, each dressed in human clothing. A bear, towering and imposing, wore a frilled blouse, its glassy eyes staring blankly ahead. Next to it, a bunny donned a flowered hat, its ears poking through the fabric. Jo’s heart raced as she scanned the room, her initial alarm giving way to a surreal confusion.
She lowered her gun slowly, her gaze moving across the table. Each animal seemed more bizarre than the last. A stuffed dog wore a bow tie, looking almost comical with a tiny teacup placed before it. A moth-eaten fox in a waistcoat had its paw wrapped around a spoon as if poised to stir its tea.
Jo’s mind reeled at the absurdity of the scene, her grip on the gun loosening. The air in the room felt thick, and a dizzying sense of disorientation washed over her. Her eyes traced the table settings, the untouched snacks, the half-filled cups, and the lifeless eyes of the plush guests.
Behind her, Hazel’s voice cut through the eerie silence. “I told you not to go in there.”
Jo turned sharply, her heart pounding in her chest. Hazel stood in the doorway, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and madness. “What is this?” Jo managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.
Hazel chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills down Jo’s spine. “It’s my family,” she said, her tone unsettlingly serene.
Jo’s eyes returned to the table, and that was when she saw it. At the end of the table sat a large stuffed cat, its fur matted and dusty. But it was the shirt it wore that made Jo’s blood run cold—sunshine yellow with white daisies, dirty and old, and unmistakably stained with blood. Tammy’s shirt.
A gasp escaped Jo’s lips as the realization hit her. Her arm felt impossibly heavy as she tried to raise her gun, her movements sluggish as if she were moving through thick mud. She turned back to Hazel.
“You?” she breathed, her voice laced with shock and horror.
Hazel’s smile widened, revealing a set of crooked teeth. Her eyes sparkled with a sinister delight. “Yes, dear,” she said, her voice dripping with a chilling satisfaction.
Jo’s mind raced, her training kicking in despite the surreal circumstances. She needed to act, to arrest Hazel, to get out. But her body felt disconnected, her movements slow and uncoordinated.
As Hazel stepped closer, the room seemed to spin around Jo. The stuffed animals, the blood-stained shirt, Hazel’s twisted smile—they all merged into a nightmarish tableau that threatened to engulf her.
She had to focus. She had to survive. But as Hazel’s shadow loomed over her, Jo realized she might be too late. The truth was within reach, yet it felt more elusive and dangerous than ever.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
Kevin watched Bridget use her fork to cut a small piece of the lemon meringue pie she’d ordered. She looked up at him. “Thanks, by the way, for not telling anyone about that meeting outside of town.”
Kevin shrugged, a half smile playing on his lips. “No problem. You kept my secret too.” He sipped his coffee as Bridget chewed the bit of pie.
“How’s your memory coming along?” Bridget’s voice was soft, laced with genuine concern.
Kevin hesitated, his gaze drifting away momentarily. “It’s fine,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. Inside, doubts gnawed at him. Was he really getting better? Memories seemed to come back in bits and pieces, like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.
“I’m actually doing better, starting to remember things from before.” His voice carried a hint of uncertainty, like he was trying to convince himself as much as Bridget.
As he placed the thumb drive on the table, Bridget’s gaze followed the small device, her eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What’s that?”
He hesitated for a moment, the decision to share this with Bridget feeling more significant than he’d anticipated.
“This,” he said, tapping the drive lightly, “is something I had in my bag from the hospital. At first I didn’t know why, but then the other night I remembered that it had something to do with work.”
Bridget’s brow quirked up. “Really? And you had it since you were in the hospital? I hope it’s not important.”
“I don’t think it is.”
“What do you mean, you don’tthinkit is?” Bridget forked more pie.
“Well, I don’t remember exactly what it’s for,” Kevin said. “At first, I wasn’t even sure it was police business. It was encrypted. But then I figured out how to look at the contents, and well… I don’t see how it could be anything important.”
