Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Leaving just me.
My team.
Those bones.
Plus, the slim figure huddled in the back seat of my patrol car, leaning against the window and watching Micah, Henri, and Lucas move around the crime scene efficiently. My men hold up well, putting down evidence markers and noting points of interest, all the places that could possibly hide other graves.
Right now, nothing’s off-limits as far as possibilities go.
If anything, this shit promises to be weirder than anyone would think.
As I step closer to the squad car, Ophelia turns her head toward me, her green eyes haunted in the shadows.
I rip the rear driver’s side door open and prop my arm on the roof, leaning in.
“Hey. How’re you holding up?”
“Still pretty shaken up, honestly.” She smiles weakly. She’s wearing my uniform jacket again—I have got to talk this woman into buying a proper winter coat—and she pulls it around herself tighter, huddling under it like it’s an emergency blanket. “Think you could drop Captain Faircross long enough to be just Grant? I wouldn’t mind a hug.”
“I can do both, if you don’t mind talking a little.” I ease into the back seat and stretch one arm along the back.
In seconds, I’ve got a blonde burr against my side, huddling against me and making herself small.
She feels so small it worries me as I pull her closer.
I can feel her trembling under my arm.
Fuck, I hate that her homecoming has been nothing but one ugly shock after the next.
“You’re safe,” I whisper, resting my chin on top of her head, holding her tight. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think that guy was trying to hurt you. Medic said it’s looking like an attempted suicide.”
“Suicide?” Ophelia inhales sharply. “Then why...?”
“He might’ve had second thoughts. Or he might’ve been hopped up on something that messed with his brain. Maybe he went looking for help and tripped over you.”
“God. And it just happened to be me? After he’s been following me around town,” she points out skeptically. “What else? What are you not saying, Grant?”
I snort loudly.
“You know, you’re the only person who can read me like that, and some days, I swear...” I trail off into a grunt. “I just got a funny feeling, Philia. Those bones, that man, another suicide connected to the fucking Arrendells. The maid who hung herself weeks ago, and now this guy turns up half spun out of his mind, wearing their uniform.”
She’s silent for a terrible minute, her head resting on my shoulder and her gaze trained outward thoughtfully.
“Aokigahara,” she murmurs.
“A-oki-huh? You speaking Japanese now?”
“Yeah. I read about it in the news once after this YouTuber caused a huge scandal by being disrespectful. It’s this place in Japan called the Suicide Forest,” she says softly. “So many people go there to end it all that the rangers can’t keep up with all the bodies, even though they try to keep people out. They even try to talk people out of doing something awful. Some people say it’s just a trend, but others think there’s something dark out there that convinces people to kill themselves there. Sorry. I know what I sound like. I just can’t help thinking...”
She trails off, but her head turns, gazing at the big rise over the town. The one where that big house squats like some terrible demon of bleached bone with its windows gleaming like orange demon eyes.
If anywhere could be haunted enough to drive people to suicide just from stepping foot on its grounds, it’s there.
The Arrendell mansion.
“But you don’t think it’s suicide at all, do you?” she finishes.
“Don’t know yet,” I say. “I’ve got some odd hunches. Something itching at the back of my head, y’know? But I need to think. Sort things out. Wait for toxicology.”
And possibly an autopsy, if our mystery man doesn’t make it.
“I feel a little weird myself.” Ophelia’s eyes gravitate to the spot where Micah’s crouching next to the unearthed bones, delicately sweeping the dirt away with gloved fingers. “Who do you think that is, Grant?”
I don’t answer.
The question hangs deathly heavy between us.
I think we’re both wondering the same thing, even if the possibility’s mighty slim.
So many people have disappeared in Redhaven over the years.
Residents.
Random hikers.
Punk-ass kids who took their mischief too far and wound up in real trouble.
Sometimes, we find folks in the woods looking kind of like that suicide forest she talked about. People get lost, wander off the paths, disappear into some little niche where nobody can find them.
It’s dense as hell out here beyond town. You could walk three feet and not even notice them there, frozen to death or torn up by coyotes or cougars. The odds that it’s Ethan are slim.
Even so, I still get that feeling.
“Hey,” I say. “You wanna run what happened by me again? A little more detail this time.”