Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
They’re Polaroid pictures. Strange, faded, overexposed images of women. I squint, trying to make them out, but it’s mostly blurry and the lighting’s bad. Some of them are smiling, some of them are frowning. One or two look terrified. Mostly they’re just indistinct blobs, vaguely human. And they’re all taken in the same place, with that exact floral wallpaper in the background, at least from what I can see.
Chills run down my spine. “Baptist!”
He comes running, looking around in alarm. I say nothing, my hands trembling as I show him the pictures.
His face is grim as he flips through them. When he’s done, he says nothing, only peers into the room and yanks off another board to get a better look. We stand there, staring inside at the Polaroids, and the sheer horror of what we’re witnessing begins to creep down my spine.
There are at least two dozen of them. All young girls. All wearing some expression from horror to a strange, dazed happiness. All of them were photographed in this room or somewhere in this house.
“This isn’t right,” Baptist says quietly. “Come on. We should go.”
“Wait. What about those pictures?”
“I don’t want to think about what we’re looking at right now.”
“If those are actually victims—”
“We don’t know that.” Baptist tenses as he turns his back on the house. “All we know is some creepy Polaroids are tacked up in a house Cowan wants to use for a horror movie. He could’ve planted them there.”
I take a long, slow breath, and nod. “Right, yeah. They’re just props, I bet.”
“I’ll go inside and check it out. Maybe there are more clues.” He moves toward the front again but I catch his arm, shaking my head rapidly.
“No, don’t.” The words wrench from my throat. Terror rolls down my spine and I don’t know why I’m so afraid. The pictures are weird, but they aren’t evidence of a crime exactly. We don’t know if those girls were kidnapped or murdered or if they’re all just extras Cowan’s using for his film. Fiction and reality aren’t always clear when it comes to that director, and even though I rationally know the chances that we stumbled on some kind of serial killer murder den are pretty damn low and the most likely explanation is that Cowan left this for us to find.
Even still, the place freaks me out, and the thought of Baptist going in there makes me want to rip my own spine out. I can’t handle it, and I know I’m being stupid, but I won’t let him go. I hold onto his wrist, and move closer to him, staring up into his eyes.
“It’ll be fine,” he says, head tilted. “Come on, Webb. Are you scared?”
“I’m fucking terrified. Don’t go in there, please. We’ll show Cowan the pictures and let him decide what to do.”
Baptist frowns and digests that for a moment. I’m about to beg him some more, but my phone begins to ring.
I jump and release a shocked yelp and Baptist laughs at my sudden response. I glare at him, pull my phone from my bag, and answer it with a shaking voice. “Hello?”
It’s a man’s voice. Older, deep, official-sounding. “Ah, yes, is this Blair Webb? Are you Max’s sister?”
My stomach sinks and I turn away from Baptist, walking a few feet into the field. “That’s me. Is everything okay?”
“This is the vice principal of Max’s school, Robert Shade. I’m afraid we had a little incident just now and unfortunately Max’s father and mother both seem indisposed. He told me to call you.”
I curse inwardly. My worthless freaking parents. “I can be there in—” I hesitate, doing the mental math. “A half-hour.” If I hurry.
“Thank you, Ms. Webb. We’ll speak then.” He hangs up and I curse again, shoving my phone back into my bag.
I start to run back to the car.
“Webb! Hold up!” Baptist catches up with me, looking concerned. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Max. Something happened at school. I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“I’ll drive.”
I glance at him and shake my head. “You don’t have to.”
“I’ll get us there faster than you will. I’ll leave you with the car and take an Uber home so you can deal with your brother.”
“No, Baptist, that’s not—”
“Come on, less talking, more running.” He picks up the pace, dragging me along, and I can only hustle after him and hope that Max is okay.
Chapter 13
Blair
Max sits slumped in the passenger side seat staring out the window.
His eye is a black and blue swollen mess and there’s blood on his shirt. Not his own. He’s sullen and quiet, and hasn’t said much since the principal’s office. Even then he only spoke when directly questioned.
I have no clue how to handle this.
“You want to talk about it?”
He shakes his head and doesn’t answer.
I drive slowly back to the apartment.