“Holy crap,” Amy said, eyes wide. “What is this? Where did you get it?”
“Uh, I was curious. You know, ’cause she would’ve been my neighbor and all.”
“This autopsy report is morbid!” Amy gasped out. She never took her eyes from the screen. “Price! What are you doing?” She swung on him, her eyebrows raised. “Don’t tell me you were just curious! These are like, official files!”
“Well,” Kylee said from her corner, “I admit she’s smarter than I thought.”
Price shot a glance at Kylee and turned his attention back to Amy. “Listen, it’s like this, Amy. I’ve been thinking about this since the cops found her body. They think it’s a suicide, right?”
“Yeah. . . .” Amy said, her expression guarded.
“But who thinks that? The police? Or is it her stepdad who keeps pushing that idea?”
“Well, it was kind of an idea even before they found her body,” Amy began.
Price interrupted her. “Who’s idea, though? Who started that rumor? You? Jessica? Her other friends?”
Amy’s face paled under the accusation. “No! I would never say anything like that! I didn’t know she was a cutter . . . I read it in the paper.”
“Exactly,” Price whispered, pointing a finger at her. “But who told the press?”
She shrugged. “Her parents, I guess?”
“But why would they want the police to think it was a suicide?”
Kylee watched as understanding lit Amy’s features. “You think they tried to cast the blame on her?”
He gave a tight-lipped grin. “Yes. But why?”
The question hung in the air. Amy’s gaze dropped to her sleeve, and she plucked at it.
Kylee crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Price. “Why say that to her? Are you just distracting her or do you think she knows something?”
Of course Price couldn’t answer. He didn’t look at Kylee, just kept his eyes trained on Amy.
“To hide something,” Amy said, lifting her chin and meeting Price’s gaze. “Something’s wrong with her stepfather. I mean, we all know it. But my mom, she overheard them fighting sometimes when she was out jogging. She’d tell us every time she saw the police there. And one time, she caught him with drugs.”
“Drugs?” Kylee shook her head. “I never saw Bill with drugs.”
“No one’s mentioned drugs,” Price said, furrowing his brow. “Is she sure?”
Amy shrugged. “I only know what she said. She said Kylee’s parents were on the side of the house, yelling loud enough to hear from the street. Fighting over something, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Then he hit her and she went into the house. He tossed something on the ground and went in after her.”
“What does that have to do with drugs?” Kylee said, flexing her fingers. “He was just a crazy man.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t prove anything.” Price shook his head.
“But wait,” Amy said, her eyes widening. “After they went in, my mom went over to the house and looked in the grass.”
“Really?” Kylee exclaimed. “Is her mom such a nosy busy-body?”
Price silenced her with a wave. “Did she find something?”
“Yeah. An empty syringe.”
“Where is it now?” Price leaned closer, his face animated. “Did she take it home?”
Amy shook her head. “She was afraid to touch it. She told us when she got home, and my dad went out in the morning to get it so he could report them. But it was gone.”
“Maybe she imagined it,” Price said. “Maybe it was too dark to see.”
Amy shot him a glare. “Unlike some people who don’t show up when it’s their turn to present a project, I can rely on my mom.”
“When it’s their turn to—Oh!” Price slapped his palm to his head. “The presentation! Was that today?”
“Yep.” Amy gave an exaggerated nod. “And guess who had the maps and photos?”
Price groaned. “Oh, Amy, I am so sorry. What did she say? Will she let us make it up?”
“You’re sick, right? What can she do?” Amy’s glare didn’t relent. “Sure left me in a crappy spot, trying to cover for you when I didn’t know where you were. I texted you a million times. You could’ve given me a heads up!”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Price reached into his backpack and pulled out his phone. “I never took it off silent from yesterday. I didn’t notice.”
Amy rolled her eyes and stood up. “You’re so lame. Who doesn’t notice their phone?” She gestured at the computer. “What are you gonna do about all this, anyway? Why are you researching her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel like it.”
Kylee shivered as a chill ran over her shoulders. How many minutes that time? Four? Three? She slid to Price’s side, slipping one hand around his arm.
He glanced at her, shifting to accommodate her next to him. Then he looked back at Amy.
His movement had been subtle, but Amy’s eyes narrowed. She surveyed the empty space next to Price. He stiffened as she stepped closer.
“What’s going on, Price? Is something there?” She held a hand out and swiped the air an inch in front of Kylee. Kylee stepped backward.
“What are you talking about, Amy?” Price relaxed when Amy didn’t detect Kylee. He gave a forced laugh. “Something here? Obviously not.”
“Listen, buster,” she said, her nostrils flaring. “I’m not in your advanced French class for nothing. I’m also taking three concurrent college classes, which is why you haven’t seen me in any of your other high school classes. So don’t act like I’m silly for asking. You’re hiding something. Everything about your tone to your face to your body odor says that. So.” She poked his chest with a finger. “You were saying?”
Silence followed. And then Price said, “I bet I can hack a computer faster than you.”
Amy stared at him, and then she burst out laughing. “All right, you win, Price Hudson. But when you decide I’m worthy of your trust, you can tell me your secrets.” She lowered her voice. “I knew Kylee, after all. I might be able to provide insight your police report can’t.” She touched his hand, running her fingers up his wrist. She paused at his forearm and gripped it with her hand.
Only inches beneath Kylee’s own hand.
Price fidgeted, straightening his arm and flexing his fingers.
“There’s a cold spot right here,” Amy said, her hand creeping closer to Kylee. Kylee shifted upward. “Weird. Don’t you think?” There was a glimmer in her eye, a sparkle of suspicion.
“Yeah,” Price said. “Drafty house. Can be cold sometimes. That’s why I’m sick. You know.” He gestured at his face. “Ah huh huh.”
Amy dropped her arm. “Was that supposed to be a cough? Anyway. I gotta go. Keep me informed.” She grabbed the light jacket she’d dumped in the doorway when she came in. “The rest of your house isn’t cold.”
She left the room. Price shifted away from Kylee and went to the window. She followed him, and together they watched Amy walk down the street alone. He faced Kylee and scratched his eyebrow. “That was close?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what that was. It’s almost like Amy wanted to believe I was here.”
“She did,” Price agreed. “But listen, we got something now, right?” He poked his head out the door, then closed it. “Lisa’s watching TV. Let’s keep searching.” He rubbed his hands together and headed for the computer. “Drugs?”
Kylee wanted to deny it. She’d never seen Bill using. He smoked and drank, and didn’t bother to hide those things. But after what Amy had said, Kylee figured she better withhold her judgment until she knew more.
“Autopsy,” Price said. “Let’s see what clues this holds for us.” He hesitated. “This is going to bring up that picture again. Can you—do you think you can scroll past it?”
“Of course,” Kylee said. She positioned her hand over his on the mouse.
The autopsy report came up. Kylee scrolled down, a knot of dread tightening in her chest. I don’t want to read this. “Okay. It’s past.”
“Thanks.”
She read over Price’s shoulder, glad he didn’t read aloud. These details were too gruesome.
The report detailed the jagged cut on her arm but added that she’d been in a state of decomposition and the exact date of death was difficult to determine. It mentioned a multitude of scars on her body from previous knife wounds, suggesting the capacity for self-mutilation.
She bit her lip. Stupid, stupid girl!
“Did you read that part about postmortem?” Price asked.
“No,” she said, swallowing back tears of frustration. “What’s that mean?”
“It means after death.” He pointed to a paragraph near the end and read, “‘Blood coagulation with knife wound on arm consistent with that inflicted postmortem.’”
Kylee tried to translate that, but it didn’t make sense. “How is that significant?”
“It means, Kylee,” Price said, looking up at her, “that they think someone cut you after you were dead. There’s no way the police think you killed yourself.”
“So what now?” Kylee whispered. Her hands trembled with anticipation. The police didn’t think it was her. Who, then?
“Let’s read.” Price continued down the autopsy report. “Interesting.”
“What?”
“They had to get a court order to do the autopsy. Your parents both refused to consent.”
She frowned at him. That was definitely weird.
“Whoa,” Price said, drawing her attention back to him.
“What?” She leaned closer. “What is it?”
“They found traces of an unknown substance in your bloodstream. They sent it to forensics to get tested but don’t have the results back yet.”
“What does that mean? What could it possibly be?”
“That you weren’t killed by a knife wound. And maybe the police know it.” He locked eyes with her. “Maybe your parents know it, too.”
She heard his words, felt them wash over her, and shook her head. “Obviously Bill knows. Duh. But my mom doesn’t know anything.”
Price gripped her hands and leaned closer to her. “Then why is she helping him hide from the police?”
“She’s not,” Kylee breathed. Her hands trembled in Price’s grip. “You’ve met my mom. How could you say that?”
“If it wasn’t a knife that killed you, what was it?”
She forced herself to think again about the words from the autopsy report. Her fingers trailed over the jagged scar on her arm. No wonder she didn’t remember it; someone had inflicted it on her after her death. Her eyes darted to the screen. “An unknown substance. Wait. You don’t think they mean drugs, do you?”
Price’s door flew open, startling both of them. Once again, Amy stood in the doorway, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wild.
“Uh—Amy?” Price said, the total confusion written all over his face.
“I heard you,” she breathed. “I’ve been standing here outside your door listening to you. I waited till you weren’t watching me, and then I turned around and snuck back into your house.”
“More psycho than I gave her credit for,” Kylee said.
“Okay,” Price said.
“You’re talking to someone.” Her eyes flicked around the room. “You’re talking to her, aren’t you!”
“Sometimes I talk to myself,” he said, his tone confessional. “It helps me think through ideas.”
Amy was already shaking her head. “No way. I heard you talking about a knife, talking about killing. You’re talking to Kylee.”
“Did I actually say her name?”
“No, but—” For a second, Amy looked uncertain. And then her features hardened. “Stop acting like I’m stupid! She asked you to help her solve her murder, didn’t she? She’s here! Kylee! It’s me, Amy!”
“Shh!” Price waved a hand at her.
Kylee pushed away from the computer desk and grabbed Amy’s wrist.
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