Page 35 of Look What You Made Me Do

Should I call the police? Will they believe me?

After my heart rate slows down, I rush to take a shower. Despite my threats to run off to the hospital and get a swab done, I decide against it. I’ve already had one done and nothing came of it. Why do it again?

If I want to figure out what’s going on, it’s clear I’ll have to do it myself.

After the masked man leaves, I don’t sleep at all. I took a very quick shower, and now I’m just lying in bed and blinking up at the ceiling, replaying every detail of what happened. I analyze his voice, his mannerisms, the infection in his voice, everything.

I know him. I do. The way he moves is so familiar. And the scar…

Could it really be Gabriel?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Wyn

“Ms. Barker?”

I look up from my phone, then stand and walk across the waiting room to the detective who just called my name. He’s middle-aged, his black hair just starting to gray around the temples. I recognize him from a of couple months ago. He was the detective who looked into Gabriel’s death.

“I’m Detective Nawar,” he says.

I shake his outstretched hand and smile politely. “I remember.”

“What can I help you with today?” he asks.

I glance around. Are we doing this in the Sheriff’s Station waiting room? Weird, but okay. “Um, yeah, you handled my boyfriend’s case a couple of months ago. Gabriel Martelle.”

He nods, indicating that he remembers.

“And, um, I was wondering if I could see his autopsy report?” I ask, anxious. I don’t know why. I guess it’s because seeing the report and the photos and everything that goes along with it will be confirmation that it’s all real.

But as painful as that might be, I need to know the truth.

He shakes his head. “Those files are part of an active investigation…”

“Please,” I say. “I just…need some closure. It’ll only take a few minutes.” I swallow and glance up at him, and whatever he sees in my eyes softens him, because he blows out a defeated breath.

“Okay,” he says. “Follow me.”

I’m sure he assumes I’m just a grieving girlfriend who needs closure. During our initial interview after Gabriel’s death, I told him the truth, though. We’d just broken up the day it happened, but I’d checked out emotionallymonthsbefore that. It just wasn’t working between us.

And yeah, I’m sad. But honestly, Gabriel was unhinged toward the end. Something was bothering him, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was. Eventually, I just gave up asking. I know Lucas blames me for that. Or I suspect he does, anyway. He’s never said it to my face.

The detective leads me down the hallway, to the first door on the left. It’s a small room, cold, and swathed in various grays. The walls, table, chairs…everything is sterile and plain. “Water?” he asks me.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I answer, taking a seat.

A few minutes later, maybe ten, he steps back into the room with a water bottle and a plain manilla file folder. He sets the water bottle down in front of me and then slaps the folder down on the table. “You have ten minutes. You can’t take any of the pages with you, and no taking photos,” he says sternly, then points to a camera mounted in the corner of the room. “You’re being recorded.”

I nod in response. “Okay.”

“And just a warning, the crime scene photos are pretty graphic. That train really did a number on him.”

I stare down at the folder like it’s about to jump up and bite me. “Thanks,” I say.

“I’ll just leave you to it,” he says. “If you need anything, just holler.”

I smile tightly. “Okay.”

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