Page 176 of Whistle

A single, lonely tear dripped from my eye but didn’t trail over my cheek. It fell right from my face down toward the river below.

“You need to go.” She tugged at my shoulder.

That was when I saw it. White fabric waving like a flag of surrender. I leaned farther over the rail, and the woman panicked.

“What is that?” I said, pointing.

She paused and then looked too.

Straightening, she spoke into the radio clipped to her shoulder. “We’ve got some potential evidence.”

I glanced back, but she pulled me away. “You need to go, or I’m putting you in cuffs.”

I turned and walked away, not bothering to tell her the “potential evidence” was Lance’s favorite hoodie. The one he’d been wearing the last time I’d seen him.

She’d figure it out soon enough.

Just as I’d figured out the reason my boyfriend wasn’t returning my calls was that his body was found in the river. Just as I’d figured out how he ended up down there.

He jumped.

Took his own life.

And the why?

Me.

41

Bodhi

Churning, hungry water yanked me below, trying valiantly to suffocate me in a murky death. My body was so cold that I was wracked with shivers as it attempted to heat itself. But all the shivers and icy temperature did was slow my coordination.

Still, I fought to the surface, the image of Emmett jumping off the bridge forever burned into my retinas.

Sputtering, I wrestled the water, not seeing the large branch barreling toward me until it was too late.

Scraaape.

The rough wet wood dragged across my cheek on its way past, taking a layer of skin with it.

“Goldilocks!” The voice sent a surge of adrenaline through me.

“Em-mett!”

“I’m here, Bodhi! Here!”

A wave crashed over my head, pushing me under and swirling me around. My limbs and clothes were tugged and pulled. One of my shoes was carried away completely.

Again, I found the surface, my lungs greedy for air. I was growing tired, the night catching up to me… My life catching up to me.

“Keep swimming,” Emmett called.

There was still so much space between us. Too much.

“I c-can’t.” I thrashed, vision starting to dim.

Tangled in the water’s grasp, I dipped below the surface, this time with no way of knowing which way was up. Overcome by anxiety, I gazed through the gloomy brown to find my sister’s bloated face staring back at me. Her hair floated out around her like snakes on Medusa’s head, and her eyes were wide and accusing. The floral dress she’d worn the last night of her life seemed too cheerful to be involved in a murder, but I learned the hard way that looks could be deceiving. Blood on her forehead dripped into her brow. I opened my mouth to ask her why the water didn’t wash it away but got a mouthful of gritty silt instead.

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