Page 57 of The Writer

My stomach clenches. Victoria works alongside Layla’s parents. That must mean she knows more about her death than I ever realized. Could she know I was her roommate back then? That I was the one to leave her behind?

“I’m happy I got to apologize to you in person,” Lena says. “It was long overdue.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” I say. “I’m just happy you and your family have found peace.”

It’s true, I realize, as I make the long and lonely drive back to Whitaker, even more questions about Victoria and her intentions forming in my mind.

TWENTY-NINE

I’m officially not the only person making connections. As of this morning, theWhitaker Tribunehas too. There was a front-page article comparing the recent murder of Jessica Wilder to a similar decade’s old case: the murder of Layla Williams.

The article covered few details about Layla’s death, and luckily didn’t mention Crystal, me, or the dropped civil suit against us. At least I’m not being dragged back into the public eye. It wasn’t sensationalized either, suggesting that because the crimes were similar there must be a serial killer on the loose. Michael Massey’s arrest and conviction were made clear; however, the reporter highlighted that safety for women on campus is still a major issue. It was a call for action more than anything, along with a plea that anyone with information about Jessica Wilder’s murder contact the police.

Now that her face is splattered across headlines, it’s no longer possible to avoid Wilder’s murder with the Mystery Maidens; it’s all anyone in Whitaker has been talking about, and I’ve been gearing up all day for it to be addressed at tonight’s meeting.

My stomach is a bundle of knots as I wait for the other Maidens to arrive. I keep replaying the details of myinvestigation with Marley. Ever since Jessica Wilder’s murder, I can’t escape the feeling that danger is lurking, and knowing Marley believes two more people have been killed only increases that fear.

Part of me still finds it impossible to think one of the other Maidens could be responsible, but if not them, then who?

“Thirsty Thursday!” April says when she arrives. “Have you already ordered drinks?”

I clear my throat before speaking. “No, I was waiting on the rest.”

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You look like you’re coming down with something.”

My appearance must speak to my inner turmoil. I’ve had trouble sleeping, and no matter how much I try to act normal, I can’t shake the feeling of dread that follows me wherever I go.

“Just tired,” I say, quickly putting the focus onto something else. “What about you? How have you been?”

“Better than when you saw me at my house.” She lowers her voice. “You didn’t say anything to the others?—”

“Of course not,” I interrupt her.

She smiles genuinely. “Thank you. This is my most positive part of the week, and I want to keep it that way.”

“I understand,” I say, even though any joy this group brought me disappeared long ago. Now, my sole reason for coming is to try and figure out which of my friends could be a murderer. They’ve all entrusted me with their secrets in the past week, but I wonder which of them could be hiding something even darker. Is it possible one of them has been tormenting me for years?

Victoria arrives next, followed by Danielle. We exchange greetings and pleasantries, providing bland updates about our weeks. None of them mention the fact that I’ve met each of them separately recently, which is probably a good thing. I don’t need the culprit to know that I am investigating, even though it’sclear they know I’m onto them. The note left for me at Banyon’s Bridge proves as much.

“Let’s get started,” Victoria says, pulling out her laptop.

“What about Marley?” I ask.

For the past half hour, I’ve been checking my phone every five minutes. She should have arrived by now.

“Not coming,” Victoria says. “She’s busy with exams this week, so I told her to take the night off.”

She’s not coming at all? After we’ve spent the past couple of days going over our game plan? For weeks, I’ve looked at Marley with suspicion. As soon as I let down my guard enough to trust her, she abandons me.

“I’ll go first,” Danielle says. “I have something really special to share.”

“Wait,” I say, afraid of losing my chance to confront the group all at once. “I was wanting to talk to you guys first. Since we’re all crime writers, I imagine you all follow the news as much as I do. Did you hear about the WU student that was murdered last week?”

This is my plan. Bring up the most recent murder and allow the others to take control of the conversation. I don’t want to mention Layla by name. I’d rather see if the other members make connections on their own.

“I read about it this morning,” Danielle says, lowering her stare. “It’s just awful.”

“I saw it, too. Only twenty years old! Her poor parents,” April says. She looks at Victoria. “I wondered about you. Did you know her?”

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