Page 97 of Savage Keepsakes

Sweat beads down my back and nerves eat at my stomach, but I don’t flinch when he touches me.

“How could it possibly get worse?” I widen my eyes and twist my fingers together.

“She says that it was the Keepsake Killer. She could be the only one who got away.”

I wait for the rest of the story, that the location is my house, or that Billy is the person they’re looking for.

As the silence lingers, I can’t help but wonder if he’s concealing something or if she has no clue.

“Can we see her?”

“Just waiting for clearance. The detectives asked us to come down after we’ve visited her. Procedure, I’m sure, one of our own and all.”

I nod, not trusting my tongue to say another word.

“Here for Leah?” A nurse with a clipboard asks, and Artie nods. Dropping his hand to my elbow, he guides me along the way.

“I know you guys didn’t have a good relationship, but I don’t want that used against you,” he murmurs.

When we enter the single private room, Leah is lying against the pillows. Black and purple splotches adorn her face, while the blanket and nightgown conceal her swollen eyes and bandaged body.

“Shit,” Artie whispers.

I think of anything sad that’s ever happened in my life because, truthfully, I couldn’t care less about her current state. Karma came quicker than I expected. I keep my funeral facial expression on as we step closer to the bed.

A steady stream of oxygen flows through her nose, while IV fluids drip into her arm.

“Lucy,” she mumbles. Her brown eyes open, and her gaze is unfocused as she looks at us. “Danger.”

I glance at Artie, but he says nothing, and I clear my throat.

“Leah, what is it?” The last question I ever want to fucking ask her.

The machines next to her bed beep and make a racket and before long, a nurse is rushing in.

“It’s best if you guys go for now. The doctor may put her in a drug-induced coma, to help her brain heal.”

“Absolutely, whatever it takes. We wish her to get the best care she needs,” Artie says.

I catch my eyes mid-roll. I couldn’t give a fuck if she dies but I nod and walk out of the room with him.

When we reach the elevator, he turns to me. “Do you want me to drive you to the station?”

“Nah, I got my car. I’ll meet you there, yeah?”

He nods and squeezes my hand as we leave through the main entrance.

After parking next to Artie, I walk into the police station and we stand at the main entrance, twiddling our thumbs.

My limbs tremble with nerves, the impending encounter with authority figures igniting my anxiety, but I gather my courage and take a deep breath, standing tall.

“Mr. Bowers, Miss Warner?” A detective steps down the front stairs and holds out his hand. The station is loud with chatter, and disinfectant mixed with stale coffee hangs in the air.

“I’m Detective Shaw. Can you come back to answer some questions for me quickly?”

With a nod of understanding, we fall into step behind him, entering a small room with grey walls. A large table takes over most of it. Taking a seat in one of the fabric chairs, I can’t help but take a quick look around the space.

The room has an eerie atmosphere, with dark windows that give off the impression of being two-way mirrors. I feel like I’m being watched.

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