Page 213 of Soul So Dark
I spend the entire drive back to the Enclave staring out the windshield in a rage. It’s only after I whip into my space next to Alex’s that I finally release the floodgates. After a few screams and pounds on the steering wheel, I take a deep breath and try to gather my wits.
Fuck Austin. Fuck Bowen. You have work to do. You’re so close. Evie needs you.
Killing the engine, I wipe the tears from my eyes and prepare to go upstairs. But when I reach for my duffel bag in the passenger seat, I hesitate as memories and details flash through my mind. Turning on the cabin light, I dig around in the bag until I find the black leather photo album. Setting it down in my lap, I open it and begin turning the pages.
The boy with Evie in the photos is tall and blonde—verytall andveryblonde. At first, they look bizarre. Each photo depicts the two of them at some presumably fun event; football games, soccer games, the creek, the picnic tables at lunch, Evie’s house, parties with Evie’s friends. Except, in all of them, the boy’s face is affixed with the most stoic and severe look I’ve ever seen.
This dude was Evie’s international bestie?
He looks like he’s about to murder everyone in a 10-foot radius.
That is, except for one photo that was taken in the woods. Evie’s taking a selfie, tucked beneath his massive arm. And he’s smiling. His face suddenly transforms from a perpetual death stare into a bright light that radiates through his icy blue eyes.
I’m about to turn the page when I notice a sliver of paper sticking out from behind the edge of the photo. When I slide it out, I arch my brow with intrigue. It’s another photo, and the blonde boy is leaning down, his eyes closed while he kisses Evie.Just like she said.But what gives me pause is one particular detail in the background that’s not in the first picture.
At the edge of the photo, there’s a sign posted in the background—Palomino Park: Cotton Ridge Trail.
Palomino was where everyone began searching for Evie. She wasn’t in the park, but Colson and Mason found her much deeper in the woods. A chill runs over my shoulders, down my back, and all the way to my legs. I’m sure everyone in Canaan goes to this park, but for some reason this feels significant.
He would know this park. Maybe he would know something, anything…
I flip to the next page where a folded piece of notebook paper is tucked into the clear plastic sleeve. There’s a name with a non-US address and phone number, which I can only assume belong to the blonde exchange student.
But does he still live there?
I don’t know what compels me to take out my phone and type the number. I’ve never thought much about clairvoyance or extra sensory perception, but I have to speak to him. He has to help me. I don’t know how—I just have a feeling. That, and an old phone number from high school that may or may not work.
Before I can chicken out, I press the call button. It begins ringing, and I start second-guessing whether this will go anywhere. But, to my utter surprise, someone answers after only a couple of rings.
“Yes,” says a deep, gruff voice.
“Hi, I’m looking for Sergei Mikhailov?”
I hope I pronounced his name right. Even from just one word, his voice sounds like it could punch me right through the phone.
“Speaking,” he replies with the same brusque tone.
“Yeah, um, you don’t know me, but I think you knew my sister, Evie Maguire?”
There’s a long pause before the gruff voice responds. “Yes.”
“Well, I’m sure you already know, but, um, she was murdered when we were in high school.”
More silence.
“Anyway, it’s a long story, but my brother, Colson, and I know who killed her. It was her best friend’s brother, Bowen, and no one believed Colson when he said Bowen was responsible. And now he’s come after me. I found a photo album in Evie’s room and there are a lot of pictures of you and her in it and, I don’t know, I just…I know this sounds crazy, but—”
“That dickwad on the soccer team?” Sergei interjects in a thick Russian accent.
I blink, losing my train of thought.
“Uh, yeah…yeah, that’s him.”
“You’re Colson’s sister?”
I pause. “Yes?”
“The little one,” Sergei says with a hint of amusement. “Colson told me about you.”
