Page 63 of Our Darkest Summer
My gaze flickered back to the photos. “Nothing really.”
He nodded, but I could feel there was something tense in the air.
“I wasn’t analyzing them,” I lied.
Connor hummed, clearly not believing me.
“Alright, maybe a little, but just to kill time.”
He nodded. “You think Kevin’s grandfather had something to do with…it?” he asked, biting his lip.
I hesitated. Did I?
Kevin’s grandfather had kept Lizzie’s journal. I thought it was because he was investigating her case, but what if—what if he was covering for someone?
A cold shiver slid down my spine. Maybe he knew who sent her away and didn’t want this mistake to ruin their career. As an officer, it was his job to protect the people in town, whether they were here on vacation or not. Maybe he hid the journal, and the police never even saw the to-do list…never followed Lizzie’s last footsteps.
“No,” I said finally. “I don’t.”
Maybe I was lying. Or maybe I just didn’t want to share my guesses without any proof. Connor heard the video. He knew Lizzie had gone to the police for help. It was up to him to decide what he believed.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my hands to unclench. The room felt too still, the weight of my thoughts pressing into my chest. Connor was watching me. Studying me with the same precision his brother did. Except…I’d never noticed Connor do this before. I turned back to the photos, my gaze lingering on Kevin’s grandfather’s frozen expression in the last one. That stiff posture, that almost-smile that never quite reached his eyes. A strange prickle crept down my spine. Then?—
My phone rang. I pulled it out and froze.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
“Hello?” I answered, turning my back on the boys.
There was a crumple, then a soft rustle on the other end before?—
“Sing for Lizzie in the trees,” came the whispered melody.
I went still.
“She’ll take you when she sees.” A muffled giggle followed. “Er?—”
The line went dead.
I stared at the screen, my heart hammering. A stupid prank call. Probably high schoolers.
I turned back, Lizzie in the trees echoing in my head. It must be the name of the urban legend Aaliyah had mentioned. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to leave that flyer at the Sunnyside.
The front door clicked open, and I jolted, shoving the phone back into my pocket. Kevin’s father stepped over the threshold, massaging his forehead.
“Dad,” Kevin greeted him, but it was like he didn’t hear him.
He seemed lost in his thoughts as he walked into another room next to the entrance, loosening his tie, his posture heavy. I heard the faint sound of water running. A moment later, he reappeared with a glass of water and a newspaper in his hands. It was only then that he finally noticed us. His brows knotted in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling off his reading glasses. His exhaustion seemed to slightly lift, replaced by something sharper. “Kevin didn’t mention we were having guests.”
I studied him. He looked almost exactly the same as he did in the last photo. Not just the serious expression or the respect-demanding stance. Even his age. Which meant the photo couldn’t have been taken too long ago. Maybe two, three years. Right around the time Officer Lance Miller passed.
Kevin straightened slightly. “Dad, you remember Thomas and Connor Rhodes?”
His father blinked, a flicker of recognition crossing his face.
“They used to come here every summer,” Kevin added.
