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After the alleged murder-suicide, the three girls were given new names to protect them from the media circus surrounding the scandalous incident. Then they were put into three different foster homes. And again, that could be the end of the story.

But ladies, gents, and nonbinary folks? It’s not.

We’re just getting to the juicy parts. But first, a word from our sponsors, Bountiful Bras for that blessed beauty in your life!

Stevens:And we’re back! We just have to fast-forward here twenty-five years. No, I did not stutter. Twenty. Five. Years. Remember baby Larissa? Well, she grew up to become FBI forensic linguist Raisa Susanto. Now this lady is a badass. She worked her way off the streets to finish her doctorate in linguistics in record time. She could have played it safe and gone the academic route, but, no, our girl wanted to go into law enforcement even though she didn’t know anything about her own history. It does make you wonder, you know? LikeThe Body Keeps the Scoresays. Trauma lives in our bones.

Now, Lana, the quintessential middle child, became Delaney Moore, vastly underperforming in life, given her potential. She was working the overnight shift as a content moderator at Flik. Imagine the kinds of things that poor girl saw day in and day out. I swear.

Well, Miss Lana herself flags a video to the FBI that shows two people dead on a bed, posed just like Tim and Becks were all those years ago.

And where did this video originate, you ask?

Everly, Washington.

The next thing you know Raisa, Delaney, and—here we go, I know y’all were waiting for this one—our hunky FBI forensic psychologist Callum Kilkenny, ride into Everly thinking there’s a copycat on the loose.

See the thing is, everyone still thinks it was Alex Parker who killed his parents and then himself.

But, my babies, my fiends, that was not how it went down at all.

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Chapter Four

Delaney

Three months before Isabel’s death

The first time Delaney saw Lindsey Cousins, the girl had been coming off a boat—the sea in her hair, the sun on her face, moving with the quiet confidence everyone who could sail seemed to carry.

She was young and pretty, with an athletic build and wavy brown hair she wore tied up on top of her head. She had a heavy sprinkling of freckles that were probably teased out by the sun, and an easy smile that guaranteed she’d get more tips than the other boy working the tourist sailing trip.

This was a small-group charter, so Delaney was slotted with two couples who had come as a group and two other women who had gleefully reported that they’d been friends for fifty years—longer than either of their marriages had lasted.

As she worked, Lindsey bantered with all of them, her eyes drifting toward Delaney every once in a while as if trying to figure her out.

Delaney had been so careful all her life. She’d never left a digital footprint, and there were no photos of her to be dug up except for—apparently—in the old local newspaper in their tiny town. And even thosehad perished in a timely fire not long after the night of the confrontation between Isabel, Raisa, and Delaney.

She had made sure not to be captured in any pictures at Isabel’s trial nor during the media shitstorm that had followed.

There was no way for Lindsey Cousins to know that the single woman on her charter on this random Tuesday was Isabel Parker’s sister.

How would she react?

With glee?

With horror?

Delaney couldn’t guess. She would never understand someone who glorified her sister’s killings.

Raisa probably thought Delaney had done so. Delaney would never be able to convince her otherwise, and frankly she had no interest in attempting to anymore.

Lindsey hadn’t approached Delaney until they were out on the open water. “You having a good time over here?”

“Of course,” Delaney replied. She wasn’t good at this in-person sleuthing. Show her a chatroom of two dozen incels and she could narrow in on the actual dangerous one within an hour.

This, though? This involved interacting with actual people, and that had never been her strong suit.

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