This is not Flora, I thought, a girl who once played with foxes, now standing outside a chain-link fence, peering in.
I spotted my rival immediately. Back slider of the house was open. She sat inside, in the relatively cool comfort, watching TV. She had long dark hair gathered in a loose ponytail. A faded green tank top paired with cutoff jeans. She stared at the old TV, chain-smoking, her long arms shockingly pale for these parts. But it worked for her, the dark hair, cream-colored skin. Like Snow White, all she needed now was blood-red lips.
I knew, before she ever turned around, that she was prettier than some bony New England blonde like me. No, she was dark fringed lashes, razor-sharp cheekbones, and long sultry nights.
My replacement. Jacob’s new toy.
And I realized, in the next instant, he hadn’t brought the knife for her. He’d brought the knife for me. One quick thrust and I’d be all done, rolled into the swamps for the gators to feed on. Just as he’d always promised.
“This is all of Flora, getting some sleep.”
Is that what death would feel like? Finally getting some sleep?
Inside the house, the girl turned her head. Alerted by a noise, our presence? I found myself holding my breath, while Jacob inhaled sharply beside me.
She looked older than I’d expected. Not a sweet young thing. Maybe closer to midtwenties. Which surprised me. Jacob always favored teenagers. Easier to train, he’d told me.
I glanced at him now, trying to understand.
And . . .
The look on his face. Adoration. Fixation. A man fully, hopelessly in love. A man looking at this new girl in a way he’d never, ever looked at me.
My turn to inhale sharply, and in the next moment, I understood. This was no random girl, no spur-of-the-moment replacement.
“That’s Lindy,” I said.
“Shhh. She’ll hear you!”
“She’s still alive?”
“’Course she’s still alive!”
“You didn’t grow tired of her? Kill her and feed her to the gators?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he whispered hoarsely. “I’d never hurt her.”
“You love her.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“You do. You actually . . . you love her.”
The girl in the house turned, alerted by our conversation. She rose to standing, looking in our direction.
Beside me, Jacob once more sucked in his breath. He watched her walk toward us, completely transfixed.
I knew then that I hated this girl. She was the true enemy. If Jacob had never loved her, never lost her, he wouldn’t be snatching the rest of us off of Florida beaches. Somehow, she’d inspired him; then she’d twisted him.
And now, after everything I’d survived, everything I’d done, she’d be the one who’d take Jacob from me. Because of her, Jacob would finally use that knife, then feed my body to the local wildlife. My mother would never learn what happened to me. She’d spend years talking in front of all those cameras, wearing her little fox charm and pleading for a daughter who was already dead.
I hated Jacob then. Hated him as much as I had that very first day, regaining consciousness in a coffin-shaped box.
But I hated this girl even more.
Lindy. The girl who’d started it all. The girl who’d ultimately destroy me.
Unless, of course . . .
I killed her first.
Chapter 32
WE FOUND A BODY.”
“Don’t you mean bodies?” D.D. glanced up from her desk to find Phil standing in her doorway. He was shaking his head.
“No. Body. At one of the destinations listed on Goulding’s vehicle’s GPS.”
“Kristy Kilker or Natalie Draga?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
D.D. automatically pushed back her chair, then caught herself. “Wait. Is this a test? Because I heard you, you know. I get that I’m headstrong and controlling, and I should trust my partners and have more faith in your abilities to get things done. Meaning, you get to go see the body. And I get to await your report like a good restricted duty supervisor? And then—” She caught herself, as surprised as anyone by the sudden thickening in her throat. “Then you won’t be mad at me anymore.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“I do trust you,” she got out while she could. Because now she was remembering yesterday’s conversation with Phil and it stung. She’d never say it out loud, but Phil was the closest thing to a surrogate father figure that she had, especially given that her own father didn’t approve of her job. She didn’t miss her parents, who lived in Florida. She didn’t even mind anymore that they didn’t understand her job. But Phil, his clear disappointment in her . . . that hurt.
“I trust you, Phil. I trust Neil. And I miss you guys. Every day. I miss our squad, our partnership. I don’t like feeling like I let you down. Because you’re my team. You’ve always been my team, and let’s face it, not just anyone wants a team member as headstrong and controlling as I am. I know that. I definitely know that.”
“Are you done?”
“Maybe.”
“Because this isn’t a test. Though, for the record, you are headstrong and controlling.”
“I know.”
“And you should have more faith in us.”
“I know.”
“But you’re also you, and I know you, D.D. Most of the time, when I’m not completely exasperated or frustrated or scared out of my mind, I even like you. So now that we both agree that I’m right and you’re wrong, are you going to come along or not?”
“Come along?”
“To the crime scene. With the body. But I get to drive.”
D.D. didn’t need to be asked twice. “Okay!”
“You really are a lousy restricted duty supervisor.”
“Yeah. Been thinking that a lot myself.” Which still didn’t stop her from grabbing her leather jacket and walking away from her desk.
“So where are we headed?” she asked as she followed Phil out the door, world order officially restored.
“Mattapan.”
“Again? Why are the bodies always hidden in Mattapan?”
“Because some neighborhoods are just like that.”
*
MATTAPAN HAD A NATURE PARK run by the Mass Audubon society on acres of land that used to belong to an abandoned state mental hospital. Which Phil and D.D. were both very conscious of as they skirted the perimeter of the property, sticking close to the elaborate wrought iron fence that separated the unexpected expanse of leafy trees from the dense urban jungle that surrounded it.
They’d been to this park before. They’d walked these grounds when the skeletal remains of the abandoned mental facility had still winked shattered glass eyes from atop the hill. They knew all about the ghosts of this area’s past, and the mummified remains of six girls they’d excavated from an underground pit last time they’d been here.
Following Phil toward the first wooded trail, D.D. had a chill, and it wasn’t from the weather.
In theory, the Boston State Hospital was long gone. Half of the green space had become the Boston Nature Center, home to 150 species of birds and 350 species of plants in the midst of a densely packed neighborhood where the triple-deckers were jammed shoulder to shoulder and most looked worse for the wear.
Bostonians came from all over to walk through these trees, listen to the birds, admire the butterflies. That the park came up as a frequent destination in Devon Goulding’s GPS could just mean he was someone who enjoyed communing with nature.
Except, of course, the park also represented a decent chunk of tucked-away green space, which is exactly what a killer would need to bury a body.