Page 116 of Corpse Roads

We follow her through a narrow hallway into the kitchen out back. Her home is comfortable, albeit cramped, painted in muted tones. I resolutely ignore the kid-sized shoes scattered next to the staircase.

In the farmhouse-style kitchen, I study the spread that Giana’s laid out. Sandwiches, biscuits and miniature cakes. She hums nervously while filling two tea pots, casting me looks every other second.

The room is warm, inviting, fit for a family. I can’t help but notice the cluster of framed photos on the windowsill. The news still hasn’t sunk in, and I’m desperate for proof.

“Can I?”

Giana nearly drops the teapot she’s holding. “Oh, well, um… help yourself. Do you… remember her?”

Picking up the first frame, I hug my grandma to my chest. I can’t believe she was actually real. Sitting on a picnic blanket, she’s building a sandcastle with a miniature shovel and bucket.

“A little,” I admit. “She’s been popping up in my dreams for a while. I had no idea she was real, let alone family.”

Giana remains at a safe distance, but she looks desperate to cross the kitchen. Whether to hug me or hurt me, I don’t know. I can’t trust her. Not after Mrs Michaels.

“She always took you to the beach when you went to stay. No matter how many times I told her it’s illegal to feed those damn seagulls. You were the shining light in her whole world.”

My finger traces her silk-spun hair.

She was real.

Maybe, all my dreams are.

“Grandma Sylvie,” I whisper.

Placing the frame down before I drop it, I take the empty seat next to Hunter. Giana sits opposite, clocking the way he takes my hand in his. Her eyebrows pull together.

“As I explained on the phone, the current situation is a little delicate,” Hunter begins, taking a sip of tea.

The cup shakes in Giana’s hand. “I saw the press announcement. I’m glad you kept Let—ah, Harlow’s identity private.”

“I’m afraid to say that it won’t be long before the media connect the dots. Secrets have a way of getting out. We’ve had some issues with reporters tracking Harlow’s movements.”

“That cannot be allowed to happen,” she gasps.

“We will keep Harlow safe, no matter what. I can also confirm that we have reopened the case into her abduction. You’ll need to be interviewed again, by my team this time.”

“Oh, of course,” Giana agrees uneasily.

“We will continue to dedicate our entire company to this case until all is said and done.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” I croak. “We can’t fight this forever. Other people need your help too.”

“Harlow,” Hunter snaps. “We’re not having this discussion.”

When Giana attempts to pat my arm, I shift backwards, out of her reach. She pales even further. Tension is carving her entire frame into a marble statue.

Clearing his throat, Hunter refills his teacup. “I need to ask you about your ex-husband. We have some questions for him.”

“I haven’t seen him for over a decade,” she replies in a sharp voice. “Our marriage ended when he was convicted. I moved here to be closer to my mother before she passed.”

“You haven’t heard from him since he was released?”

Hesitating, she touches the locket around her neck again. “There was a letter. It arrived on the tenth anniversary of the abduction.”

“We’ll need to take that into evidence.”

“Well, if I can find it… um, we’ve moved since then.”

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