Trail of Dead (Scarlett Bernard #2)(57)

Dark. Lots of dark. I felt around both sides of the wall but couldn’t find a switch. Trying not to think about what else I might find, I flailed my hand into the air a few steps into the room. Esther probably thought this looked hilarious. Finally, my fingers closed around a thin piece of string. I tugged.

There are some who might say that I screamed, but I maintain that it was more of a womanly bellow. Esther shrieked behind me. I jumped back a few feet, and when I finally got my breath, I stepped back in, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light and to the shock.

Every inch of every wall in the low-ceilinged room was covered in photos of me.

There were a few older shots—me in my high school graduation robe, a couple of shots of me running on a track. I’d only been on the cross-country team my junior year of high school, which was probably about when Olivia had found me. But most of the pictures were from the time of Olivia’s death onward. Me at the grocery store, me at a bookstore, me lying on the beach with a hat over my eyes. There was even a whole series taken through the windows of Molly’s house: me watching TV, making supper, napping on the couch with a spilled water glass on the floor next to me. I winced. No moment of my life was too mundane or too private for her to capture.

“They’re all of you.”

The voice was only a few inches behind me, and I jumped, half expecting to hit my head on the ceiling like a Looney Tunes character. “Jesus, Esther, don’t do that.” I turned around, and that’s when I saw the back wall of the room. This one wasn’t covered in pictures. There were just four big eight by tens, hung neatly, two on each side of the door. Each shot was of the person walking on the street, completely oblivious. Molly was captured at night, talking on her cell phone and throwing her head back to laugh. My brother Jack was walking with a slice of pizza in his hands. He was wearing his scrubs and an anxious look on his face, like he had to get back to work. Jesse was leaning against an unmarked car, reading from a file and chewing on his lip. Eli was wheeling a dolly stacked with boxes into Hair of the Dog.

You will not cry, I told myself. You will not run screaming. You will not stop breathing. I had gotten used to the idea of Olivia being obsessed with me, and while all those shots of me were creepy, they almost had an inevitability to them. But the pictures by the door were different. She had pinpointed the four people I cared about most. Had she left those out so I would know she was coming for them? I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket and stared at it stupidly, as if I didn’t know what it was.

“I think I’m gonna go,” Esther said behind me. “Um, good luck with everything.” There were footsteps, and then a heavy silence behind me. Smart girl, that Esther.

I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at my phone, watching it tremble in my shaking hands. Eventually, I was able to dial.

Eli got there first, as planned. I had closed the door to the Scarlett room and was sitting outside on the front steps. Hugging my knees again. He got out of the truck in a hurry, then slowed down when he saw me. I didn’t say anything as he crouched into my eyeline. He was wearing jeans and a dark-red T-shirt with Hair of the Dog embroidered on the left breast.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you leave work,” I said woodenly.

“It’s fine. Will’s there today. There was a fight last night, but I finished cleaning up half an hour ago.” Eli had that barely contained look he gets when he wants to touch me. I kept my eyes on the sidewalk. I had forgotten all about the other crime scene.

“The stairs are in the kitchen. The body’s at the bottom of the stairs, straight ahead. You need to get it out of there as fast as you can, because Jesse is on his way. He can’t see it.” My voice sounded dead even to me.

“Okay…” he said cautiously. “Are we switching vehicles? I can pick up the truck later.” He held out his keys expectantly.

“No. You’ll have to put the body in your truck. It should be light. Squish it down in front of the passenger seat. Whatever. I don’t care.”

He stood there for a moment, hesitating. I didn’t bother explaining that I didn’t have the White Whale with me. “Just do it, Eli,” I snapped. I didn’t look up again.

He disappeared from my vision, and I heard him step into the house. I didn’t move. After a while he came out carrying a surprisingly small plastic garbage bag, which presumably held the disposable body bag I’d left down there earlier. He loaded it in his truck without a word, but then came back to squat in front of me again. “It’s done,” he said quietly. “Scarlett, what is it?”

“You should go,” I said. “Jesse will be here.”

I thought he flinched when I mentioned Jesse, which gave me an idea. “We’re going to handle the case together,” I said. “I don’t need you.” He stood up, staring down at me, looking confused. “Jesse and I will be together,” I repeated. “Just stay away.” I flicked my eyes down so I didn’t have so see his reaction.

Eli disappeared from my line of sight, and a moment later I heard his truck start up. I didn’t move.

It took Jesse another fifteen minutes to get there. He had probably had to drop Kirsten off at his parents’ house. He pulled up in his personal car, a navy Corolla, and came straight up to the steps, standing in front of me. “I checked the records,” he said. “The place is owned by a woman named LuEllen Schaub. She was found dead in a hotel room last year. No heirs, and the courts haven’t gotten around to figuring out what to do with this place.”