Page 58 of Holy Sinner

Grant tilts his head and follows where I’m pointing. “I do. That shouldn't be there.”

Trash in a regular forest makes sense but Elysium Sol is like Disneyland. There’s nothing here that isn’t curated and specifically meant to be here. Trash would not be something they allowed in their woods.

“Exactly.” I sprint towards the bottle and bend down to look at it. It’s a white plastic gallon bottle. I recognize the shape immediately from the years I spent waiting tables. It’s the kind that bulk condiments like ketchup and barbecue sauce come in. The nights that I spent wrestling bottles identical to the one I’m looking at now to complete my side work before my shift was over are too many to count.

I bend down closer and reach a hand towards it. There’s a smear of dark crimson on the top of it. The lid is off and the contents have spilled over and down the side of it. Whoever brought it out here must have poured it out and then tossed the bottle when they were done.

My fingers are an inch from it when Grant grabs my hand. “Don’t fucking touch that.”

“What? Why not?”

“You’re not getting your prints on that. You touch that and it’s all the proof anyone needs to pin Jane on you.”

Grant’s words make me freeze. “Oh fuck,” I whisper. My fingers are so close to the plastic of the jug. I snatch my hand back like the jug is a snake about to strike and I stumble back to standing. He’s right. If I had touched it there would be no getting away from what happened to Jane. Rumors and whispers are one thing but Alana showing up squashed so much of that already. I wanted to go to the cops about Jane to turn myself in for…for..I don’t know for what but whatever happened to her feels heavy and it feels like it’s connected to me.

“Someone planted that.” Grant comes to stand beside me and pulls me back until I’m behind him. “The same fucking someone that knew you were going to stumble out into that bloody little circle.”

“We have to tell the cops.”

Grant scoffs and turns me around. “We’re not getting them involved.”

“But-”

“No, Kit. I don’t trust you right now, and that means no fucking cops.”

Grant’s words feel like a slap and I wince. He doesn’t see it though, his eyes are ahead of us focused on the trees. Up ahead I hear Alana calling out to us.

“Where are you guys? Don’t leave me here, it’s fucking creepy, okay?” Limbs wave and rustle and a second later Alana’s head pops into view. “What the hell? You can’t just leave me here. What if a serial killer dragged me off or something?”

Grant cups his hands around his mouth and shouts back at her. “You’re safe! You’re not the target a serial killer would want.”

I elbow him in the side. “Cut it out. You’re worried about me going to the cops and you’re telling her that? What are you trying to do? Let everyone know you’re in tune with what a serial killer prefers?”

“What? She’s not. Anyone who watches true crime shows would know that.”

I stay silent and walk faster until I’m the one pushing out of the trees and onto the trail where Alana is. The second she sees my face, she goes pale.

“What happened? Oh my god, did you find something out there?” She squints past me and cranes her neck like she might catch sight of Jane or the aforementioned killer lurking behind me.

The only serial killer here is Grant.

“We kind of did,” I answer her. I want to get ahead of whatever Grant is going to say regarding what a serial killer looks for in a victim. When I look his way, I see that he isn’t watching Alana, or even me. My stomach twists at seeing that I don’t have his attention. I’m used to his eyes always being on me when I look for him, but now they’re not. He’s looking towards the woods with a thoughtful expression on his face.

What is he thinking about?

“What? Oh fuck, what did you find?” Alana asks and comes to my side. “Was it a body?” she whispers.

“No, it wasn’t a body.”

“A hand or something?”

I shake my head. “Nothing like that. We found…well, we found trash.”

“Trash?” Alana’s face scrunches up and I know she doesn’t understand why trash is important.

“Not trash. We found evidence,” Grant corrects. “Someone tossed a jug out there.”

Alana puts a hand on her hip. “Look, both of you aren’t making any sense. What do you mean trash?”

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