The Girl and the Unlucky 13 (Emma Griffin™ FBI Mystery) A.J. Rivers (historical books to read TXT) 📖

fight. The way these two are looking at her in there, they think this is over.”

Thirty-Three

The officers leave, but instead of going back into the room with Ashley, I make my way down to the end of the hall where Leona is now leaned against the wall beside the window. Her face is in her hands; she’s drawing in ragged, uneven breaths as though she can’t get herself under control. Stepping up beside her, I rest a hand on her shoulder. She jumps and pulls away, her eyes wild when her hands fall from her face.

“It’s alright, Leona,” I say softly. “It’s just me. It’s Emma.”

Leona looks at me for a second as if she doesn’t know who I am, but then the terror drains from her eyes and recognition replaces it. She exhales as if the breath has been held inside her since the moment her sister walked out onto that soccer field.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“What happened to her?” she asks.

I rest my hands on her upper arms, trying to steady her as I look into her eyes to keep her focused.

“We don’t know yet. But we’re trying to figure it out. Have you seen her yet? Talked to her?” I ask.

Leona shakes her head almost frantically. “No. No, I can’t.”

“Why not? I’m sure she would be so happy to see you.”

“I can’t,” she repeats, prying herself out of my grasp and running down the hall toward the stairs.

I turn around and find the man she was talking to watching me with hollow, sunken eyes. He doesn’t say anything before walking slowly after her.

As much as I want to follow them and find out who that man is, I need to talk to Allison and Vivian. They’re chatting when I walk back into the room. It isn’t the smooth, easy banter I’m sure used to exist among them. There’s an obvious tension and awkwardness, but that’s to be expected. It’s been five years since they were in the same space together. They were barely out of being children then, and now they’re all technically adults.

“Hey,” I start, stepping into the room. “Allison and Vivian, could I steal you guys away? I just need a quick word with you.”

There’s that glance. The question they toss back and forth between them before realizing they really don’t have a choice. They’re cornered in the hospital room with Ashley and her mother. There’s no way for them to say they won’t talk to me without its sounding strange.

“Sure,” Vivian says. She looks at Ashley again. “We’ll be right back and we’ll talk about your birthday. Do you remember your thirteenth? Your party was so much fun.”

Ashley smiles and the two girls follow me out of the room into the hallway. We pause a little way down, away from the door.

“What did you do?” I ask.

Their faces go blank.

“W-what do you mean?” Allison stammers.

“For Ashley’s thirteenth birthday,” I say. “You said her party was so much fun. I was just curious what you did for it. I can’t even remember my thirteenth birthday.”

“Oh,” Vivian sighs, her shoulders relaxing. “We went ice skating.”

A brief laugh bubbles up out of Allison. “Ashley loved Christmas. She always wanted to do the whole Christmas in July thing, even though her birthday is in June. She decided since it was her thirteenth birthday, she could do whatever she wanted. If she wanted Christmas in June, that’s what she could have. So, we did a whole winter-themed party with ice skating and an ice cream cake that looked as if it was covered in snow. We all wore Christmas sweaters while we skated and then went to her house and watched Christmas movies while we drank chocolate milk. We put whipped cream on so it looked like hot chocolate.”

Vivian laughs at the memory and I notice tears spring up fresh in her eyes.

“It’s obvious how close you guys were,” I observe. They nod and I mimic the gesture back to them to show I’m listening, that I’m engaged with what they are saying to me. “Which is why I’m confused about why you don’t want to help with the investigation.”

Vivian’s eyebrows tighten in, the laughter gone from her lips.

“What do you mean? We’ve answered all your questions. We went with you to the park and showed you what we did. We even told you we lied to the police and gave you the real story,” she says.

“Well, you told me a story. But you haven’t been upfront with me about the school. And you have refused to submit your DNA for testing,” I say.

“Because we don’t have anything to do with that. We already told you we weren’t there that night. It’s a coincidence that Tegan posted that picture,” Vivian says.

“Or maybe that’s where he brought Ashley,” Allison chimes in, her eyes darting over to Vivian. “Remember, the two of them went off on their own together. We never knew where they went. We assumed they stayed in the park and the guys had tents somewhere. But maybe they actually went out to the school.”

“That would make sense,” Vivian adds. “Ashley loved that place.”

“That’s interesting, because when I talked to you about it to begin with, you seemed to barely even know what I was talking about. Not as if it was a favorite place to visit.”

“She liked it. We went there with her sometimes,” Vivian shrugs. “But we weren’t there that night. We were at the park. If she was there, it was because Tegan took her.”

“So, the only two people who would know what actually happened if that is the case are either traumatized with no memory of what happened or dead. Which brings us back to square one. We still need as much evidence as we possibly can to trace through what went on that night,” I say.

“Why would taking our DNA do that?” Vivian asks. “And why are you bothering chasing after such a stupid detail? You’re just distracting from Ashley.