Page 11 of Crossing the Line

“No, but we wanted to talk to you about what happens now.”

I lift my head sharply and frown. “What do you mean? What happens now?” My mom reaches for my hand, squeezing it tightly. I flick my head around, and she bites down on her bottom lip, her eyebrows drawn together. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Amanda was found dead in her cell over a week ago. Her funeral is the day after tomorrow. We wanted it to be all over before you found out.”

“Why?” I ask in confusion.

“Matthew Bryant has requested to attend.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. “Is he… is he allowed to attend?”

“I’m afraid so. He’ll be under guard and shackled the entire time…” he trails off and swallows heavily. An uneasy feeling washes over me, and I know he’s holding something back.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

“The funeral will be held here in Savannah.” My chest feels tight as my breathing accelerates. My fingers tingle, and black spots appear in my vision. I can hear my mom telling me to calm down, but her voice seems far away and muffled.

I’m having a panic attack.

I’ve had enough over the years to know.

Regardless of that, I’m powerless to stop it.

Suddenly, someone is kneeling in front of me, a paper bag in their hand. They’re encouraging me to breathe into it, and I somehow manage to follow their instructions. After a minute or so of breathing into the bag, I can feel my fingers again, and the black spots have disappeared.

Looking up, my dad’s kneeling in front of me.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” I hear my mom’s worried voice clearly now, so I know the worst has passed.

I nod slowly, and my dad passes me an open bottle of water. Putting it to my lips, I take a small mouthful. I had panic attacks regularly after I came home from Cedar Falls, and the therapist I saw helped me control them. It has been years since I last had one, but it came on so quickly, I was unable to put the strategies I’d been taught to use.

“I’m so sorry, Miss… Hallie. I can only imagine how upsetting this is for you,” Detective Wilmot says, his voice full of genuine remorse.

“Why is the funeral being held here?” I croak out, taking another mouthful of water.

“Amanda’s only remaining relative is an aunt who lives in Savannah. We tried to talk to her, but she was very insistent she is buried here.”

“I can’t believehe’sgoing to be here in Savannah the day after tomorrow.” My voice breaks, and my mom pulls me close.

“Why don’t you come home for a few days until all of this is over,” my mom suggests.

“I am home, Mom. I live here. I’ve put my life on hold long enough. I’m not being chased out of my own home.”

She sighs. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m just worried about you.”

“I know.” I turn and pull her into a hug. “I’m done letting them rule my life. I lost ten years. I don’t want to lose anymore.”

“If you’re sure you are okay, we’ll get going,” Detective Wilmot says kindly. “The funeral arrangements haven’t been made public, but I can’t guarantee no press will contact you, not now that the story’s been leaked. We can’t stop you from speaking to them, but we believe it’s in your best interest not to.” I stand up to see them out. “You’re safe though, Hallie. You have my word.” He holds his hand out, and I take it, shaking it briefly. Lieutenant Phillips nods in my direction before heading for the apartment door.

“Which cemetery is it at?” I ask quietly, not wanting my parents to hear. Detective Wilmot’s hand pauses on the door handle, and he sighs as he slowly turns around. His eyes flick behind me to my parents before landing back on me.

“Colonial Park. I don’t advise you to go, Hallie,” he warns, his voice low. I don’t say anything, reaching past him to open the apartment door. He stares at me before sighing again and walking through the open door, followed by Lieutenant Phillips.

Closing the door, I pause, briefly composing myself before heading back to my parents. They’re talking in hushed tones, falling silent when I walk back into the living room.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come and stay with us for a couple of nights? It’ll be fun. We can have a girly night with a movie and popcorn?” I can hear the pleading tone in my mom’s voice, and as much as I’d love to run back to the safety of my parents’ house, I can’t.

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