Page 54 of Crow's Haven
I stand in a rush, the cot screeching against the floor, and press myself against the wall. My breaths come shallow, ragged, as I scan for anything I can use as a weapon. My eyes land on the frying pan. Grease or no grease, it’ll do. I snatch it up, gripping the handle so tightly my knuckles ache.
The sound draws closer. A footstep, deliberate, just outside the door.
I hold my breath. The door creaks.
And then—
“Sharon?”
The voice stops me cold. It’s female, higher-pitched than I expect, tinged with hesitation. Recognition flashes like a spark in my chest. My grip on the frying pan falters.
The door opens, and in steps Cassie.
Cassie.
I haven’t seen her in years, but I’d know her anywhere. High school comes rushing back—She looks older now, more tired around the eyes, but it’s her. My chest should feel light, relieved. I should feel grateful to see a familiar face in this nightmare.
But something’s wrong.
She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t run to me or hug me or even look particularly glad to see me. Her shoulders are tense, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes darting around the room like she’s already regretting stepping inside.
“Cassie?” My voice is hoarse, unsteady.
She shrugs, lingering near the doorway instead of coming closer. “I spoke to Ronnie, she said you might be here.”
“Thanks for suggesting it.” I’m suddenly not sure what to say. There’s something in her mannerisms that’s unsettling me.
Cassie’s gaze sweeps over the cot, the frying pan, the sad half bath in the corner and me standing there gripping the frying pan like a weapon.
“Sorry,” I say as I set the frying pan back down, trying to collect myself. My pulse hasn’t slowed.
She doesn’t speak right away. Instead, she studies me, her arms folded tight across her chest. There’s no warmth in her expression, none of the old familiarity I was expecting. Instead, there’s suspicion.
“I just…” she swallows, then looks me dead in the eye. “Is it true? Did you kill that child?”
The words hit me like a slap.
I blink, stunned. “What?”
She takes a step closer, though her posture is still guarded. “Everyone’s saying you did. Ronnie said it was something to do with a patient, but I didn’t realize it was a kid. I didn’t want to believe it, but…” she gestures vaguely at me. “Look at you, Sharon. Running from the cops. What am I supposed to think?”
I shake my head hard, anger flaring. “No. Cassie, no. I didn’t do it. I swear to you, I didn’t. I’m being framed.”
Her brow furrows, but not with sympathy—with doubt. “That’s what they all say.”
“Come on,” my voice cracks. I hate how desperate it sounds, but I can’t help it. “You know me. You’ve known me since we were kids. Do you really think I could hurt someone like that? Do you really think I’d kill a patient?”
Cassie looks down, chewing her lip, avoiding my eyes. For a long moment, the room is silent except for the faraway echo of cars on the main road. I watch her, searching her face for any sign that she believes me.
When she finally looks up again, her expression is guarded, unreadable. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
The words slice through me deeper than I expect.
She takes a step back, retreating towards the doorway. “There’s a reward being offered for information on your whereabouts.”
“Cassie—” I start, reaching out a hand, but she flinches like she doesn’t want me to touch her.
“I don’t think you should be here,” she says, her tone distant and detached. Then she slips out the door before I can say another word.
