Page 218 of Heart So Hollow

I can’t stay here much longer...

Next, I grab the pieces of white paper and unfold them. It’s a printout of an article from the Internet. The headline jumps out at me immediately.

BODY OF MISSING CANAAN SENIOR FOUND

Canaan—The search is over for a Canaan High School senior who vanished one week ago. The Canaan Police Department confirmed that the body of 18-year-old Evelyn Maguire was located Friday just south of the Wyandot Nature Preserve. Authorities were notified Friday morning that Maguire was discovered inside a culvert by her stepbrother, Colson Lutz.

My jaw drops with a gasp and I sink further down onto the floor. I clasp my hand over my mouth, my chest tightening as I stare at his name.

“Oh god,” I murmur, shaking my head in disbelief, “oh, Colson…”

Chest heaving, I try to catch my breath as I scan the rest of the article chronicling Evie’s disappearance. I drop the papers back into the box, my eyes darting aimlessly around the room before I remember that I don’t have time to freak out yet. I’m about to toss the black trash bag back into the box with everything else, but I hesitate. It’s the last item.

Frantically, I unroll it, deciding to look inside and then get the hell out of here. Much like the white trash bag, whatever is inside is very light. I lift the end of the bag and try to shake the contents out onto my hand.

At first, I don’t know what I’m seeing, but then a clearer image begins to materialize.

Laying across my palm is a long, vibrant red braid fastened tightly at each end with beige hair ties.

“Jesus!” I drop it onto my lap and then begin twitching, sliding the hair off my jeans before springing off the floor, “What the fuck!”

I stagger around the room, gasping, cursing, writhing, and wringing my hands in horror.

There’s a dead girl’s hair in that box!

Sucking in deep breaths and trying not to pass out, I pace back and forth in front of it, trying to decide what to do. I can’t just leave the hair—Evie’s hair—laying on the floor. After much cringing and hand-wringing, I finally kneel back down.

“Shit!” I hiss, pinching the braid between my index finger and thumb and lifting it from the carpet, “Shit, shit, shit…” I drop it in the box, loose, and grab my stomach and chest, wringing my shirt in revulsion.

Seconds away from hyperventilating, I glance between the filthy, tattered shirt and the braid laying on top of it and fall to my knees. Tucking the flaps over one another, I work quickly to close the box and grab my bag, zipping it up and throwing it over my shoulder. Grasping the box, I take one last look around the room.

Suddenly, I hear the door in the laundry room open and I freeze, drawing in a sharp breath when I see who steps through the door.

We stare at each other, eyes wide, mouths hanging open.

She’s dressed in Navy blue scrubs, her hospital badge hanging from a clip on her collar. She looks like she just came from work. She glances at the crawlspace hatch laying on the carpet and follows the trail of dust and crud into the open closet where the kitchen chair is still shoved halfway inside under the hole in the ceiling. She lingers on the crawlspace for a moment too long, growing more panicked as her eyes dart back to me in astonishment.

Sneaky ass bitch…

“Why are you here?”

Hannah’s eyes betray her, darting over my shoulder to the hallway, “Give me the box,” she finally says, brushing me off with an annoyed tone.

“It’s yours?” I glare at her, my mouth twitching with bubbling rage, “So, you know what’s inside?”

I can’t decide whether I believe her, but it doesn’t matter. Whether or not Hannah put these things in the box herself, she knows what’s inside and she’s willing to help conceal it.

“Just give me the box,” there’s a razor edge to her voice.

“Did Bowen send you over here?” I demand, “Did you know he attacked me and then locked me in that room? Did he tell you that?” My voice grows louder with each word, “Did you come over here because you do whatever he says? You sick fucking bitch. You desperate cunt!”

“You—” Hannah seethes, her jaw tightening, “you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Her chin trembles with rage, “Who the hell are you? You’re not one of us. You’re a nobody!” She takes another step toward me, “You’re just another one of his sluts he plays house with. He’ll get tired of you just like all the others, and then he’ll throw you away and find another one!”

“Just not you,” I murmur, my eyes boring into hers.

The veins in her neck pop and, as much as she tries to hide it, I see the sharp pain in her eyes. Maybe I’d feel bad for anyone else, but not her. I don’t know what, but Hannah’s done something horrible. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t want this box so bad and she wouldn’t be standing in my way, still following Bowen’s orders.

“Hannah, what did you do?” I take a deep breath, “Where is Emily?”

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