Back in my shitty motel room, I dump the bag onto the bed and put the TV on the local news station. Just in case there are any reports of robberies, I’d like to prepare myself. I’d obviously take the fall. There’s no way I’d bring Jack down with me.
Once again, I slowly look through each item, trying to make sense of it all. The old receipts, the shitty map, and the frayed piece of rope. I lay everything out on the bed and toss the box toward the headboard when I hear something metal roll inside. I pause, my brows drawing in. Walking around the bed, I lift the box toward my ear and shake.
It’s there, again.
I open it, moving my fingers around inside, searching for whatever it is in there. My fingers scrape something small and metal. Moving the box under the lamp on the nightstand, my eyes widen when I see what it is. It’s an earring. A small stud. A regular diamond. I rest the earring in the center of my palm, feeling more confused than ever.
What the hell? Does he just throw random shit into this box?
Carefully, I place the earring on the bed in line with everything else from the box. I walk toward the TV stand, grabbing the file with everything else I’ve gathered over the past few months. I lay all of that stuff out in chronological order on the table. It’s small, but I manage to fit most of the papers and articles.
I pace the worn, ratty carpet, sipping from a coffee cup as I try to make sense of it all. I turned on the shitty coffee machine and brewed a fresh pot the second I walked in. I needed caffeine if I was going to make it through the night.
Where is the connection? There’s this gap of time that’s unaccounted for. If they did do it, how did they all manage to get away with it? I snatch the court documents and her autopsy report off the TV stand, flipping through the pages and skimming through the information I already know by heart.
Her body was left at the kissing rock. Nude.
Where are her clothes? What happened to them?
And did they move her body from somewhere else to the kissing rock? Or was she left there for dead?
They had to have hidden her clothes. Burned them. I just need proof. Where would you go to burn clothes?
I drain my cup, rub at my eyes, and pace the entire night.
“Goddammit, Madison. Can’t you give me a sign or something? I have nothing. I’ve lost everything. All for nothing.”
Fatigue takes root, and I collapse against the wall, banging my head on the shitty wallpaper. I trap my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to silence the raging voices yelling at me to finish this. To make things right. I’m frustrated. I’m tired. My heart fucking hurts because I’ve ruined my chance with a good man. There’s no telling where things would’ve gone. There’s no telling if we would’ve even worked out, but anything is better than what we got.
“Christ, quit feeling sorry for yourself, Kenzie. At least you’re alive and breathing.”
My eyes fling open, and I jolt when I see Madison leaning against the opposite wall, mirroring my position. Her attitude shines through with the way her ankles are crossed, her arms over her chest, and that pristine eyebrow raised.
I swallow thickly, barely holding back my tears now. I’m insane. I’m certifiable. I need to be locked up for talking to my dead sister as often as I do.
“Tell me how to fix this.”
Madison shakes her head. “You already know how, Kenzie. You haven’t been paying attention.”
“I have,” I grit.
She raises her brows, smirking at my show of anger. “Look harder. You have all the answers you need. Just look harder.”
I push off the wall, my anger boiling to the surface. “I did! I’ve searched! I’ve looked! I’ve done everything, Madison! Nothing makes sense. There is no answer. They’re going to get away with it. Again.”
The smirk drops off her face, and she pushes off the wall, walking toward me. “Look again.”
“Stop it!” I yell, jabbing my finger at her. “This is all your fault. I should’ve stopped a long time ago. I should’ve given up when I had the chance. Now look at me. I’m fucking pathetic, screaming at someone who’s not even here!”
Madison shakes her head at me as if I’m the idiot. “I am here, Mackenzie. I never left. You know that just as well as I do. And I’m telling you—Look. Again.”
Tears slip down my cheeks. I drop my face in my hands, my nails digging into my skin as I wish for her to leave under my breath. When I pull my hands away and open my eyes, she’s still there.
“Why won’t you just leave?” I choke.
For the first time, Madison’s face cracks with sadness. She closes the distance between us and takes my hand in hers and squeezes. A sob bursts from my chest at how real it feels. Her touch. All of it.
“Oh, Kenz,” she breathes, tucking my hair behind my ear, wiping my cheek clean of my tears. “I can’t leave. Not yet. You haven’t let me go. Now, look again,” she implores, her own eyes, identical to mine, shining with tears. She searches my face, and I search hers. The tears keep coming as we sit there. Because I miss her. I miss everything about her.
The same way she tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, she does the same to herself. I pause, a frown creeping across my face. Leaning into her, I squint my eyes, trying to see clearly.
“Keep looking, Mackenzie,” she whispers.
I grip Madison’s shoulders, and I yank her closer, eyes fixed on one of her ears that is now exposed, the lock of dark hair gently encased behind it. I look at her other ear, and my breath catches.
“Oh, my God.”
She smiles.
Gripping her face in my trembling hands, I move her head left and right, and sure enough, one ear has small diamond studs running up the lobe, and on the other side, she’s missing one. An identical one to the one I found in the box.
“It was yours, wasn’t it?”
“You’re almost there.”
With adrenaline now pumping through my veins, I lunge for the earring on the bed. Moving it around in my fingers, I hold it up against her ear. This is it.
It’s her earring.
She must’ve lost it that night.
Ice settles into my chest when realization slams into me. If she was wearing it that night, and Zach had it stuffed away in his safe, that must mean … that must mean …
“Fuck!”
I curse, whirling around the bed, scrambling through the box findings. My eyes scramble for the receipts, and I squint, trying to read the text. It’s from a hardware store back in Ferndale. What would teenage boys need at a hardware store?
I pause, trying to unscramble my thoughts. I can hear her approaching footsteps.
“Look again,” she demands, a bit of an edge to her tone.
I scan over everything, my eyes lingering on the binder paper and the rope, but I skim over it, moving on. I nibble on my thumbnail.
“What am I missing?” I whisper aloud.
“It’s here,” she says more urgently. “It’s right in front of you, Mackenzie. Look. Again.”
“I’m trying!” I snap back at her.
“Try again! Open your eyes, Mackenzie, dammit!” she yells back.
I scowl at her over my shoulder, and when I look back at everything laid out before me, my eyes gravitate toward the folded binder paper. I lift it, looking at it again.