She thought there'd been no witnesses.
She thought he'd never be found.
Until the leaves arrived.
Jolene Parker wants nothing more than to be awarded custody of her children after her alcoholism and OCD rituals uprooted her family. But when a cold case involving a local man's mysterious disappearance suddenly re-opens, a secret from her past forces her into a twisted game of lies and deceit.
To save her family and her freedom, Jolene must continue to conceal what really happened that night... but the sinister letters arriving in the mail rekindle the same crazed paranoia that destroyed her life before. When the police begin searching around a majestic oak tree on her property, Jolene can obsess about nothing else.
Someone knows.
But had there really been a figure standing in the shadows that night, a witness to Jolene's unforgivable crime? Or is the real danger the darkness within her own mind?
She thought there'd been no witnesses.
She thought he'd never be found.
Until the leaves arrived.
Jolene Parker wants nothing more than to be awarded custody of her children after her alcoholism and OCD rituals uprooted her family. But when a cold case involving a local man's mysterious disappearance suddenly re-opens, a secret from her past forces her into a twisted game of lies and deceit.
To save her family and her freedom, Jolene must continue to conceal what really happened that night... but the sinister letters arriving in the mail rekindle the same crazed paranoia that destroyed her life before. When the police begin searching around a majestic oak tree on her property, Jolene can obsess about nothing else.
Someone knows.
But had there really been a figure standing in the shadows that night, a witness to Jolene's unforgivable crime? Or is the real danger the darkness within her own mind?
Prologue
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January 7, 2020
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The letter in my hand was addressed to me, Jolene Parker, and postmarked from my hometown of Lighthouse Beach, Virginia. As with the others, the sender had used the same block-style handwriting and bogus return address.
I slit the envelope. Through the folded waxed paper, I saw the distinctive oblong shape of a red oak leaf. Chills rattled across my shoulders as dread pressed against my chest.
Darkness fell around me. I would never be free.
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Chapter One
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August 3, 2003
The cicadas in the forest hissed like electricity on the night my life changed forever.
I parked my Camry in the driveway of the wood-sided farmhouse. This wasnāt my place, but it was where Iād grown up. The home belonged to my best friend, Annette, and her mother Patsyāthe closest thing I had to family. The only place where I got the love I craved.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā But Annette had been avoiding me for the past two weeks. Iād meant to drive over and ask her what the hell was going on, but then sheād texted earlier today. Said her mom was down in the Outer Banks this weekend, and could I come over to chill tonight? Now, Iād find out what had been on her mind.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Bottle of Chardonnay in hand, I stepped into the humid night. Fireflies twinkled in the darkness over the freshly cut lawn.
A warm glow came through the screened front door, lighting the steps up to the verandah. The soothing voice of Nora Jones rolled outside. I walked into the living room where the comforting undertone of baking bread lingered in the air. My muscles relaxed. Patsyās home did that to me. Immediately put me at ease. The soft sofa and armchairs in seafoam green were so fresh and airy compared to the cramped home I shared with my alcoholic father and his dimwitted girlfriend.
āHello? Anyone home?ā I set the bottle of wine onto the pine coffee table and turned down the CD player.
Annette pranced down the stairs in her fave hip-hugging running shorts and sports bra, her long brown hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her tanned skin glistened like sheād just finished a workout. āDamn, girl. Itās about time you got here.ā
I pointed to the wine. āI brought something to celebrate our last week of summer.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI have something better.ā She unfolded a piece of aluminum foil and revealed two small squares of paper, each with a purple dot.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā LSD. Iād seen the stuff floating around our college campus. I crossed my arms. āWhatās this? Back-to-the-sixties night? When did you start doing acid?āĀ Ā
A rascal-grin spread on her face. āIāve already tried some. Last week with Nancy.ā She held out the squares. āCome on. Letās have an adventure before we head back to college next week.ā
Adventure. Iād worked my ass off all summer and deserved some excitement. Blood surged through my veins, then slowed. I licked my lips. I wanted to live life to the fullest. Experience new things. Was I game? No. Caution took over. āI donāt know. I had enough drugs when I was in the psych ward.ā I nudged past her and headed toward the bar cabinet on the other side of the room for two wine glasses.
āDonāt be a baby.ā She huffed and followed me close. āThis isnāt that zone-you-out stuff they gave you in the hospital. I got this from Jackson. Heās careful.ā
I rolled my eyes, then set the glasses on the coffee table. āOf course, we should trust the local drug dealer.āĀ
āIām telling youāthis batch is clean. Totally safe.ā She waved the foil in front of my face. āCome on. Weāll see rainbows and butterflies. Youāll never laugh harder in your life.ā
The spot on the paper looked so minisculeājust a tiny drop of ink. How much harm could it do? āI dunno. Youāre talking about the cool psychedelic trips. What about the bad ones? The kind that fuck people up for life? Iām not screwing up my mind.ā
āToo late for that, you wacko.ā She elbowed me. āTrust me. Weāll have the best night ever.ā
A smile pushed on my lips. Annette was the only person who believed I wasnāt looney. And she had a serious knack for making risky situations sound harmless. Sheād encouraged me to jump back on the horse that bucked me off. Challenged me to surf big waves. Dared me to fuck the cute surfer dude in high school. Like an extroverted big sister, sheād pushed me out of my shell and given me the best times of my life. Taking acid wasnāt any different.
āIāll make a deal with you.ā Annetteās eyes twinkled with her familiar infectious charm. āIf you take this with me tonight, Iāll go to one of those pretentious sorority parties with you this year.ā
I blew out a puff of air. An incentive. Iād tried all last year to get her to join me for one of the themed parties, but sheād detested the Greek life. And this was my chance to get her away from the slackers sheād been hanging out with at school. I straightened my shoulders. āAnd youāll stay for more than an hour?ā
āIāll stay as long as you want.ā One hand went up in an oath. āI promise.ā She picked a blotter off the foil and popped it into her mouth, coaxing me with her devilish grin.
I shrugged, then put the other piece on my tongue and swallowed. A granule of bitterness trickled down my throat. Flutters of anticipation rippled through me. Iād done it againāimpulsively followed Annette for the promise of excitement. Now I could add tripping on acid to my list of been-there-done-that experiences. I rubbed my hands together. āHow long until it kicks in?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Annette sat on the couch and poured the wine. āIt took about forty-five minutes, maybe an hour, before Nancy and I started hallucinating. Itās all laughs from there.ā
I plopped down next to her and held up my glass. āA toast to our last week of summer.ā We clinked glasses and I took a long sip of the cool, dry wine.
Creeeeak.
My heart slammed into my chest. The sound had come from the kitchen at the back of the house. āWhat the fuck was that?ā
Annette jumped up and tip-toed toward the kitchen. āHello?ā
An eerie second of silence sliced through the room. My throat went dry. Willow Road was a dark and isolated rural backroad. Two miles long, it dead-ended at a loblolly pine-forest reserve. The nearest neighbor was at least a quarter of a mile down the road.
Slam. The back door.
Fear shot up my spine and I leaped from the couch. Annette grabbed my arm, yanking me toward the front door.
We were almost there when a powerful pull on my hair jerked me backwards so hard, I had to twist my body around to stay on my feet. I locked eyes with Mike Morton, the alcoholic beach rat who slummed around town. Hot rage pulsed through my blood, and I grabbed his wrist, trying to wrench free from his grasp. āLet go, you asshole!ā
āStop, Mike!ā Annette shouted. āLet go of her. What do you want?ā
He tightened his grip on my hair and twisted and pulled so hard that I felt my scalp pull away from my skull. My eyes watered as my mind scrambled for a defense. He aimed a long, serrated knife an inch from my cheek then glared at Annette with bloodshot eyes that nearly popped out of his face. āGive me all your money.ā
His hot breath drifted past my noseāwhisky and sewage. In my peripheral, Annette rummaged through my purse. The cold steel tip of the knife touched my cheek, but I didnāt flinch. For a moment, I thought I might reason with Mike, yet my slightest twitch might trigger him to push the blade into my throat. My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
āHere, Mike.ā Annette extended her arm with my wallet in her hand. āTake this. You couldāve just asked.ā Her voice was close to a whisper. āWe would haveāā
Mike was as slight as Gumby. Still, he tossed me aside with the strength of a linebacker. I slammed into the ground, my elbow smashing onto the hardwood floor. Sharp pain rammed deep into my bone.
āGimme that.ā Mike snatched the wallet from Annette and scowled at the three twenties Iād just withdrawn from the ATM. āThis all you have, you stupid slut?ā He threw the wallet on the floor.
Tears had filled my eyes, each breath burning my lungs. I had to get us out of this.
Annette held out her hands. āYes. Itāsāā
āFuck you.ā Mike slapped her hard. She stumbled backwards and grabbed the rail on the staircase. He huddled over her, the knife raised and pointed to her neck. āI know you rich-ass bitches have money. Where is it?ā
Annette whimpered and cowered against the handrail, shielding her head with her arms.
I pushed myself up from the floor, my knees shaking. A prism of light beamed into my vision. On my rightālead crystal candlesticks on top of the fireplace mantel. An easy reach.
Grab one. Hit him.
Adrenaline fired through my blood, igniting every impulse to act. My hands clenched then unclenched.
Hit him. Hit him.
I had only one chance.
Mike circled the knifepoint around Annetteās ashen face. āIām going to slice you up if you donāt tell me where the money is.ā
My eyes stayed fixed on Mikeās back as I lifted the heavy candlestick from the mantel. I held it tight, took three wide and calculated steps and then whacked the heavy square base into the back of his head. His skull crackedāthe smashing-pumpkin sound so clear that it turned my stomach. Bitter bile surged up my throat.
Mike dropped the knife and turned to me. His eyes crossed, glazed in confusion. Blood dripped from his nose. He opened his mouth to speak. āGgggh, gggh.ā
Fuck. What had I done? I backed up to the middle of the living room as Annette rushed to my side.
Mike reached for me and I held up the candlestick, ready to defend myself with another blow. Then his legs swayedā¦and he collapsed to his knees like a broken string-puppet.
I held Annette close, trembling and looking down at Mike. His arms twitched, and he rolled to his side, eyes fluttering.
I cupped my hand over my mouth to contain my scream. Iād never hurt anyone. Not even in a schoolyard fight or a mean-girls brawl. The only time Iād had the need to protect myself was when Iād been hospitalized and molested by my trusted therapist. But back then Iād been a defenseless, over-medicated minor, so that didnāt count.
Annette dropped to her knees and brushed the scraggly hair from his eyes. āPoor Mike.ā Her tone was soft and deliberate. She smoothed her hand over his bloody face like she was soothing his injury.
I tossed the candlestick onto the couch and closed my eyes. What had I done? The darkness behind my eyelids dripped with blood and I covered my face with my hands, trying to block out the image. My breaths came shallow and fast. I heard Annetteās voice. A whimper, a pleading. I didnāt want to look.
A scuffing of scratchy feet came from the verandah. I opened my eyes, and the room spun. The rustling of shrubs. I pulled back the sheer curtain at the front living room window and looked outside. Pitch black. Most likely a raccoon.
The sickening sound of gurgling and gasping brought me back to the moment. Mike was alive. He could be saved.
Get help.
I dug my hand into my purse, searching for my phone. āIāll call an ambulance.ā
Annette jumped from the floor and grabbed my arm. āItās too late.ā Her skin whitened, and I saw my own fear reflected in her face. āHeās dead.ā Her tone was as heavy and flat as a slab of marble.
Every hair on my body stiffened. Mikeās lifeless body lay sideways on the floor, a trickle of blood seeped from his ear, and his plastic-looking doll eyes stared at nothing. Nausea rolled through me. I splayed my hands over my face, trying to register what Iād done.
Iād just killed a man. A man I knew only from his loser reputation.Ā
But it had been an accident. Heād threatened my life. Annetteās life. This was self-defense. āWe have to call the police.ā Though I wasnāt sure what I would say to the operator. Hello, Iād like to report an accidental death.
āNo. No police.ā Her voice had turned deep, steady, and she stared me down. āWe canāt get the cops involved.ā
Iād never seen this side of Annette; even the angles on her face looked sharper. Neither of us were thinking clearly. āBut weāve done nothing wrong! He invaded your homeāthis was self-defense.āĀ Ā
Annetteās nostrils flared, and her blue eyes darkened. āThe asshole deserved to die.ā
My skin tightened, pushing tiny hairs to the surface. Her guttural voice sounded like it had come from someone else. āWhat? Whyāhow can you say that?ā
She blew out a breath. āIāve been meaning to tell you something.ā She paced the floor in front of Mikeās body. āRemember the party at Bulldogās beach house? The one you couldnāt make?ā
Bulldogās parties were legendary, and Iād been annoyed I couldnāt get off work early that night. āThat was three weeks ago.ā
āRight. Well, I got wasted. Drank way too many shots. The house was packed. Somehow, I got separated from Denise and Nancy. I wound up having a few laughs with Mike.ā She sighed. āHe was being nice, you know?ā Her voice cracked, and she hung her head.
I recognized the tortured look of shame, but this wasnāt the time for her to sort out feelings. āWhat happened, Annette?ā
āThe house got really hot and crowded, so Mike asked me if I wanted to go walk on the beachā¦ get some fresh air.ā She moved to the staircase and sat on the bottom step, like telling the story was draining all her strength.
I slid into the space next to her on the step. āMake this quick.ā
She cupped her hands over her bent knees and looked to the floor. āAs soon as Mike and I were on the trail to the beach, he surprised me with a punch to my face.ā
My hand went to my mouth, catching a gasp. āThe bruise on your cheekā¦.ā
Her fingers traced the spot on her face where the cut had just healed. The same side heād hit and made red again tonight. āThat wasnāt a door I ran into, but his fist. I tried to run away, but he was too strong. He dragged me to the dunes andā¦ and he raped me.ā She put her face in her hands, hunched over, and rocked.
I patted her back, trying to stay calm instead of hurt that she hadnāt told me sooner. I could have helped her somehow. But we had a bigger problem to deal with now. I needed to stay calm for Annetteās sake.
She lifted her head, redness spreading across her face. āI tried to fight him off, butāā
āOkay. Itās okay. I know his small frame is deceiving.ā My hand moved to my sore elbow. Nothing compared to the violence heād inflicted on Annette.
With slumped shoulders, she looked straight ahead. āAfter he raped me, he just zipped up his pants and walked away. Not a word. I was dizzy and disoriented. Totally lost. It took a long time to find my way out of the dunes.ā
āThis is why youāve been acting so weird for the past couple of weeks.ā I swallowed my hurt. She knew about the molestation Iād experienced in the hospital and how no one had believed me. Weād always shared our deepest secrets. āWhy didnāt you tell me when it happened?ā
āHow could I tell anyone? Everyone at the party saw how drunk I was. People wouldāve seen me happily go down to the beach with Mike. My lip was cut. I was a mess. I couldnāt go back and face anyone, so I crawled into Nancyās car and slept. When Nancy and Denise got back to the car later, I told them I wasnāt feeling well. Didnāt say a word the whole ride home.ā Annette took a long breath.
āThey dropped me off at my house and I drove straight to the police station and asked to speak to a female officer. I started telling my story, but once I realized Iād have to do a rape kit and that people would find out what happenedā¦ well, I retracted my statement.ā
āDoes that mean they have the rape on record?ā
Annette shook her head. āThe police lady, I donāt remember her name, but she told me that she was retiring in a couple of days, and that someone else was going to take over the case. Thatās when I started to panic. I didnāt want the word to get out about what had happened to me, especially to my mom. So, I told her that Iād changed my mindāthat I didnāt want to press charges. That I was drunk and had gone with Mike willingly. She seemed disappointed with me withdrawing my statement, but promised that since no charges were filed, there would be no record of the rape.ā
āDid you ever tell your mom?ā
Color drained from her face. āNo. And you canāt tell her. I donāt want her to know. Especially now. After this. She couldnāt handle thisā¦I canāt hurt her this way.ā Sweat dripped down the side of her face. She looked around the staircase rail at Mikeās lifeless body. āEver since that night, I wanted to kill him.ā
Ā āHeās dead. He canāt hurt anyone. Not anymore.ā
āWeāre not calling the cops, Jolene.ā Her tone was as serious as the expression on her face. āThat policewoman was nice, but sheād taken notes, you know. This could look like premeditated murder.ā
āDonāt say thatāā
āAnd think about it, do you really want to deal with glaring lights and police while weāre tripping?ā
Fuck. Iād forgotten weād taken acid. Besides a bit of weed, the only drug Iād ever had in my body had been the mind-numbing injections at the hospital. Never had a hallucinogenic and had no idea what to expect. Heaviness pressed on my shoulders. It just didnāt feel right to not report what happened. āIt was self-defense. Itās not hard to see what happened here.ā
Annette groaned. āTry explaining that to the police when they show up and youāre busy talking to John Lennon in a Tibetan temple. āCause thatās whatās about to happen. And when they see you acting crazy, weāll both face a murder rap. Premeditated murder. Youāll get sent back to the psych ward and Iāll be shipped off to prison.ā
Murder. Psych ward. Prison. We didnāt need more trouble. āOkay. Calling the police while weāre high on acid isnāt the best option. But weāll have to call in the morning.ā
āDonāt be so naĆÆve. Even if we report this tomorrow, do you think theyāll believe anything we say?ā
āWeāll tell them it was self-defense. W-we were scared.ā
Annette glared at me. āAnd you really think theyāll believe us?ā
āThereās a good chance they will.ā
āA better one they wonāt.ā
āBetter to tell the truth.ā
āThe truth could get us into trouble.ā
My throat constricted so tight that my words came out in a whisper. āSo, what the hell are we supposed to do?ā
She turned toward me. Our knees touching, she squeezed my hands. āWe need to stick together. Like a family.ā Her voice was soft, but desperation undercut her every word. āYou know the hole we have in the backyardā¦ the one where Mom was going to put a koi pond?ā
I remembered. Annette and I had helped dig the damn thing two summers ago. Patsy had wanted it exactly five feet deep so the fish could stay low and live during the cold winters. The pile of dirt weād unearthed was still next to the hole. Another one of Patsyās many unfinished projects around the property. āWhat are you thinkingā¦?ā
āWe bury him in the pit.ā
I dropped her hands. āYou want to what?ā I almost laughed, but she kept a straight face.
āWe donāt have time to think about this.ā She glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. āItās 9:35. Only twenty minutes since we took the blotter. We can get this over with, and then everything will be back to normal.ā
āThere is nothing normal about burying Mike in your backyard. You need to calm downā¦thinkāā
āI am calm. I know exactly what Iām doing.ā Her words were stone hard, calculated. āWeāll bury him right now. Itāll be done in no time. Then, tomorrow morning, weāll go to the nursery and buy a small tree. Weāll plant it on top of him. Momās been talking about putting an oak tree there for the past six months. Itās perfect.ā
I blinked several times and tried to make sense of what Annette was saying. Sheād always had a risky and wild streak but never a violent or morbid one. She acted like there were no consequences to be considered. I glared at her. āWhatās happened to you? Iāve never seen you like this.ā
āI want to protect us. I donāt trust the police in this small-minded town to believe two college girls high on acid.ā
An ache swelled in my throat. The authorities at the hospital hadnāt believed me, either. And itād taken years to get over the teasing Iād endured at our middle school after word had gotten out that Iād been in a psychiatric hospital. Psycho Girl, theyād called me. Now, at nineteen, Iād overcome that derisive label, and Iād do anything to keep from getting locked up again. I gritted my teeth. What an idiot I was for taking that acid. I couldnāt change it now, but thisāburying a bodyāit wasnāt right. There had to be another way. I rubbed her arm. āMaybe we should tell your mom what happened. She can help.ā
Annetteās eyes widened, and she pressed her hands together in a beggarās prayer. āNo. Please. I want to keep my mom out of this. Sheād tell the police. For certain.ā She grabbed my hands and squeezed and pulled like she was climbing a rope on a sheer wall, afraid of plunging to her death. āIām protecting us. All of us. If Mom finds out what happened, sheāll want to sell the house. Weāll move out of state. Iām sure of it. Do you want to do that to her? To us?ā
I breathed deeply. The strain in Annetteās voice reminded me how desperate Iād been to get out of the psych hospital. How Patsy had come to my rescue. How Annette hadnāt been embarrassed to be my best friend, even though the other kids had teased me. I owed her and her mother so much.
Being part of this family had always been important. Patsy, Annette, and me. The Three Musketeers. Weād been together for the past twelve years. My formative years. I was close to themācloser than to my own father, who preferred beer and football over anything to do with me.
If I betrayed Annette, our bond would be forever broken.
And there was vengeance. Annette deserved vengeance. I deserved vengeance. I couldnāt blame her for backing out on pressing rape charges against Mike. Life had taught me to avoid situations where I might be shamed or humiliated. If I could help Annette avoid the pain as well, all the better. It was more important for me to support the closest person to me in the world than to take the moral high ground for the sake of someone like Mike.
Burying Mike was the simplest, most logical thing to do. The hole was there. Open and ready like the hand of a hungry child. Above all, I couldnāt risk being locked up, and neither could Annette. This was about saving our skins.
āPlease,ā Annette said. āDo this for me. I donāt want anyone else to know. Just you and me.ā
My moral compass had lost direction, but I had to make a choice. Be loyal to my dearest friend or loyal to the law. I felt no obligation to authority, but Annette was different. We were like sisters. My only family. And if I helped her bury Mike, weād be forever bound by our secret. āHow are you going to live in this house knowing heās buried in the backyard?ā
Annette jumped to her feet, her face beaming like sheād discovered a cancer vaccine. āIām going to forget he ever existed. You can do the same.ā
I turned to Mikeās lifeless body crumpled on the floor. Struggling to catch a breath, I wanted to cry out but had no voice. My heart raced. Could I make this happen without ever looking back?
This isnāt real.
Annette stood over his body. āPlease, Jolene. We need to do this. Now.ā Urgency threaded her words. She plucked the knife off the floor, then shoved it down the front of Mikeās board shorts. She clutched onto one of his wrists. āGrab an arm. Weāll drag him to the back.ā
A twist in my gut made me hesitate. Could I bear holding a dead body? Iād managed to block out unpleasantness before. Iād make sure I did it better this time. I took a deep breath. āIām ready.ā
A tingling sensation rose from my core to my scalp, and my mind switched into a fixed gear. I mentally disconnected from what I was doing. Pretended this wasnāt happening. Bury the memory of this night along with the body. I blocked any emotion which tried to invade my thoughts.
Swallowing what felt like my last drop of saliva, I stayed focused on what needed doing. I grabbed Mikeās other wrist. The warmth of his skin shocked me, and I almost let go. But Iād made my decision, so I tightened my grip.
We dragged his deadweight through the kitchen, out the back door, and across the redwood deck. His sneaker-covered feet thumped down the two back stairs.
āOne, two, three, four, fiveā¦ā I counted each step under my breath as we dragged his body across the freshly cut lawn, deep into the darkness of the backyard. Counting had always been my way of coping with stress. After my mother had died, Iād used counting to soothe my fears. It was imperative to keep a precise beat and sequence in order to keep out the dark thoughts.
Thirty steps, Iād counted from the bottom of the deck to the edge of the pit. Twenty-nine, actually, but round numbers fit my mindset.
I dropped his arm.
Sweat rolled down the back of my neck. I lifted my long hair to cool off in the breeze. I took a moment to catch my breath and let my eyes adjust to the dark. Only a sliver of the moon and a sprinkle of stars gave us light.
āLetās roll him in.ā Annette dropped to her knees and pressed her hands into his back. āCome on! Help me!ā
I kneeled next to her, hating what we were doing. Hating even more the risk of getting arrested for murder and going back to the looney bin. Not becoming a teacher. Not getting the hell out of this godforsaken provincial town.
Block it out.
I wrapped my hand around his waist then heaved him into the hole. Gravelly soil rolled over him, and his body hit the earth in a heap, like a crumpled bag of bones.
Feel nothing.
Annette hopped up and wiped her hands on her shorts. āIām going to the shed for a couple of shovels.ā
I lifted the hem of my cotton tank top and wiped the sweat from my face. Silhouettes of the hundred-year-old pines surrounding the property swayed against the charcoal sky. My breath kept rhythm with the gentle movement of the forest, slow and steady. I floated outside my body.
āHere you go.ā Annette handed me a shovel.
My skin tingled as I took myself out of the moment. It was important to feel nothing, to see nothing. I jabbed the shovel downward and loosened a chunk of soil, sending an avalanche of dirt into the pit. Void of emotion, I went into robot mode, tossing shovelful after shovelful of dirt into the pit.
The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves in the overgrown forest surrounding the sides and back of the property. A symphony of soundsāwind and leaves, creaking old trees, the song of crickets and cicadas, each its own ensemble.
Then something else. I stopped shoveling.
Squish, squish, squish. A sound that wouldnāt stop. Squish, squish, squish.
Running feet on the lawn. I gasped and peered deep into the darkness. Was someone there with us?
Random flickers of light came from the last of the eveningās fireflies. In my side vision, a black figure ran from the forest behind us, across the lawn and toward the front of the house. My heart jumped, and the reality of what we were doing jerked me back into myself. āI just saw someone.ā
Annette jabbed her shovel in the soil and looked around. āNo oneās here.ā Her voice was low and raspy. āCome on. Weāre almost finished.ā
I shook my head hard, thinking the acid must have kicked ināthat I must be hallucinating. Annette had said it would take forty-five minutes to an hour. Had that much time passed?
Didnāt matter. I moved back into auto-mode, my head down, counting shovelfuls in sets of five. The numbers were all that mattered. Not the sweat dripping down my back.
The noise again. The squishing footsteps. Something. Someone.
I looked up. My equilibrium was off, my vision skewed. A black shadow along the forestās edge. Or was it a black mist? Air sucked out of my lungs. No. This figure was human-shaped, solid and swift.
Nothing seemed normal.
A strange weightiness came over me. My feet were like concrete blocks and my body grew heavy. The pile of dirt was almost gone now, but the earth became soft as a pillow. I sank down down down into the soft ground, the power of the drug being so unexpected that I lost focus.
Red-and-white tail lights of a passing car filtered through the trees. I marveled at the beauty of the streaming ribbons of lights, then remembered what we were doing. āShit, look.ā
āDonāt worry,ā Annette said, her tone full of assurance. āThatās the Nichols. They go out every Saturday night. I recognize their old-fashioned tail-lights.ā
Sheād know, having lived in this house her entire life. And weād both known since childhood that this part of the backyard wasnāt visible from the street. Especially at night. āThis is good.ā Annette dropped her shovel. āLetās get cleaned up, and weāll deal with the final stage tomorrow.ā
I slapped my hands together. Final stage. She made it sound like we were building a clubhouse.
I walked across the lawn behind Annette who was headed for the hose at the deck. The breeze and the buzzingā¦the buzzing. I rubbed both my ears. What was that? Cicadas singing so loudly, I floated on the notes.
I stood next to Annette on the deck steps and reached for the spigot. She took my hand and squeezed. āWait a minute, Joley.ā
Joley. A tingly rush of euphoria spread from my toes to my scalp, warming my body. My mom had called me Joley. Once in a while, Patsy called me Joley. But hearing Annette use my endearing name deepened my sense of our belonging and connection.
She looked me straight in the face. āWhat you did for me tonightā¦.ā She sighed deeply. āYouāre like the sister Iāve always wanted. Weāre bonded forever. You know that, right?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā A warm rush burst in my heart then spread out to my limbs. My bond with her was more than sisterly, because never had our connection been on a higher, more spiritual level than at this moment. āIāve always felt that way.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā She nodded an understanding and then turned on the spigot. āTime to get back to where we started an hour ago.ā
An hour ago? What had we been doing an hour ago? I used the hose to rinse off the dirt, the whoosh of warm water tickling my hands and feet.
I found myself back in the living room, holding a beach towel. I looked at myself, dry and clean except for some specks of dirt under my fingernails. What had I done to get so dirty in the first place? Had anything really happened?
āNow,ā Annette said in a chirpy tone, ātime to get back to business.ā She picked up our wine glasses and handed me one.
I tossed the towel on an armchair and gleefully took my wine. My vision sharpened. Was it possible weād never left the house?Ā
Everything looked as it had before. Almost. The walls and furniture were distorted and out of proportion. Had time even passed? I looked at the clock on the mantel, melting like an image in a Salvador Dali painting.
Annette stacked CDs in the player and hummed a bebop tune. Betty Boop. Ha! Annette was Betty Boop in a red flapper dress and short black hair with pin curls. I burst out laughing.
Annette laughed too, like she was in on the joke.
Utter joy flowed through me, and I turned in a circle, enchanted by the dollhouse room with pink curtains and a leopard-print chair. Annetteās living roomāI knew thatābut everything had changed into an animation. And the colors! A kaleidoscope of vibrant magenta, orange, and sunshine yellow.
The space around me luminated, my body becoming light as cotton candy. I swigged a mouthful of wine, and sweet bubblegum burst on my tongue.
Music. The Red Hot Chili Peppers sang āThe Zepher Song.ā I floated a few feet in the air while Annette, now dressed in a white robe, danced a whirling dervish around the room.
Was this a dream?
A breeze brushed over me, and tiny hairs rose on my skin. I tasted the scent of sweet gardenias, and then suddenly, I wore a long, white, flowy dress, like the angels in storybooks my mother had once read to me.
I was so light that I could fly, and I leaped forward, away on the scented breeze, carried by a chorus of cicadas.
This book takes off from the very first line, and it doesnāt stop until the very last. I am a big fan of books that start with a bang, and continue along in a fast paced way.
I found the mix of slow country life versus the pacing of this story intriguing. The descriptions were so vivid, you will almost hear the cicadas hum and feel the warm air upon your cheek.
The character development is beautifully done, and I found Jolene exceptionally well done. The methods she fell into to help her cope with the things she did and knows, the way her mental health is so fragile yet strong.
The way mental health, trauma, and the weight of secrets and guilt are played throughout this novel is carefully curated, and the way mental health is talked about and handled is both realistic and heartbreaking.
The twists fall in this novel will continuously shock and grab the reader. This book is impossible to put down because things keep happening.
The subtly and small details are powerful, and you will find yourself clinging to each page as you attempt to figure out who knows what.
The most enticing thriller to be released in quite some time, your emotions wonāt be able to keep up with the truth about to be revealed.