Page 110 of Riordan's Revenge

The following afternoon,I sent a message to my Skeleton Girls Detective Agency group.

Everything felt…strange. Distant, almost. Like I needed to surface and draw in air.

Cassie: Detective girls report in. Are you around to meet me at my old bedroom?

Everly: Absolutely! On my way.

Genevieve: I was beginning to think you were avoiding us. See you there.

I pocketed my phone in my playsuit, slipping on a pair of heels, and grabbed up my embroidery sample—the hobby I’d neglected. Genevieve wasn’t wrong. I’d been avoiding my girls because of their brother. The night he and I had got together, I’d told them with glee, but we hadn’t been alone since. I couldn’t face them for fear that I was lying to them.

On the other hand, my adoration of Riordan was only getting stronger. Not burning out. Not fading. I was endlessly interested in him. That tight feeling in my chest when he came home to me, or when he did things that showed me he wanted to be around, all resolved into a feeling of rightness.

It gave me hope that this wouldn’t go away. That I’d bucked the trend of my faddiness and impulsivity. I’d even booked a phone session with my therapist to help me work through my fear. I hated therapy. Every appointment had made me feel sick for days before and after, even though it helped. I’d only gone for the sake of Lottie. Now I was doing it for Riordan. And myself. I couldn’t let this end.

On the cam girls’ floor, I reached the room to find Genevieve already inside, staring up at the detective wall. She too clutched her sampler, half the stitches done.

I held mine up. “Ye did better than me.”

Genevieve set hers alongside it so we could compare. “For something as simple as stabbing holes in cloth and tying knots in thread, this was surprisingly hard to be good at. I’ve never feltso rage-filled as when my stitches went off at angles and I had to start again. Even with all that effort, this was the result. It looks like something a toddler did.”

I held in a laugh. “Right? That’s why I only managed four. It made me want to commit murder.”

“Don’t you want to do that anyway?”

“More murder, I mean. Me doing hobby craft is bad for the human race.”

Everly entered the room. She’d brought her sampler as well, and I tilted it up. Every stitch had been done perfectly, all the colours correct, and no loose threads.

I goggled at her. “That’s immaculate. You’re a witch.”

Genevieve whistled. “Guess you’ve found your hobby then.”

“Thank you, but actually, I didn’t love it in the way I hoped. I’ve ordered us something else to try. We’re learning knitting next.”

I sighed in relief. “Bigger needles have to be easier, right?”

Genevieve’s answer came out dry. “Or it’ll put a ready-made killing tool in your hand for when we inevitably fuck it up.”

Everly giggled then regarded the wall. “Are we here to take this down?”

We all turned to the map of Deadwater and the strings connecting the different locations. Like our stitches, they crisscrossed in a pattern. Alongside, we’d written out cards for the victims and a list of the suspects. So much effort had gone into this. Far more than I’d put into our craft activity, though equally, it had turned out to be of no use.

Reluctantly, I nodded. “I guess so. It’s a shame, but it’s not needed anymore. We can give the room back to the warehouse.”

We set down our embroidery then moved in on the detective map, Everly starting on the suspects while Genevieve unpinned the string.

I reached for the first murder victim card. Cherry. Killed on the church steps. “Bronson never said why he targeted each particular woman, but I guess Cherry was easy pickings for him.”

Genevieve’s shoulders slumped. “I really loathe that. I hate that she worked the streets and not here where it would’ve been safe for her. I saw her not long before she died and I wish I could go back in time and protect her. She was so vulnerable.”

I collected another. “With Amelia, I think he was stalking the mayor and happened to see her going into the dark mansion. Does that add up?”

Everly’s eyes showed her sadness. “I saw Amelia outside my neighbours’ house a few times. She smoked, and did so sitting on the front steps. He must have spotted her doing that and snuck in after her.”

“Alisha would have been a prize for him.” I plucked the next card and added it to my collection. “We still don’t know who planted the note, and I guess we never will, but it was on his order.”

Genevieve clucked her tongue. “Arran thinks it was done by one of the dancers. Possibly as a favour to Sydney who used to work here but defected to Red’s brothel. She’s the woman my father was dating, though I’ve no idea if he still is. Arran believes whoever left the note is too scared now to admit it, or maybe isn’t even aware of what they did. He’s let it drop because they caught Bronson.”

---