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She sighs again, getting impatient. Points to the couch in front of her. I guess she doesn’t care about the fact that someone knows I’m here.
That’s not a good sign.
“Sit, Scarlett. I only want to tell you a story.”
I know that’s not what this is. This isn’t simply Story Time with Magnolia Mitchell, but I appease her anyway. She has a gun and is getting annoyed. More annoyed.
I promptly do as she asks and sit across from her, ankles crossed and hands in my lap.
She nods as if to say, There, that’s better. And takes a measured sip of her coffee.
Sets her mug beside the gun.
I really just want to throw up. And, know where Jake is. Do they somehow know he’s in on it too? Are they keeping us separated on purpose?
My eyes sting with tears but I suck them back as best I can.
Magnolia delicately wipes the corner of her mouth and says, “About five years ago, a woman went missing in this area. She was from Lincoln, Alabama. Do you know where that is?”
I don’t answer.
She blinks at me.
“I do,” I say.
A look of approval. “The Talladega speedway is there. And her father was a big fan of Harris’.” She shifts in her seat. Smooths her hair. “And so was she. Of Jake too, apparently. She came into this house, posing as a cleaning lady. She got a job with a local cleaning service that we hired.” She pauses as she tries to remember. “The name of the company escapes me now…” She waves her hand dismissively. It’s not important. “How she knew who we used, I’ll never know. But she found her way into our home, nonetheless.” Her eyes harden. “Which wasn’t very smart on her part.”
She allows the words to linger in the air. Lets them soak in so I grasp her true meaning. This wasn’t very smart of me, either—to pretend I’m someone else to get in here.
And now this woman is gone. Disappeared. Maybe I’m next.
Oh God.
I itch to reach for my phone in my purse and dial 911, but I’d only get so far before she used the revolver.
A warm tear rolls along my cheek.
I should have listened to my gut. To Daphne. Stephen.
The tear seems to fuel her. “What was her end goal, you ask?”
I didn’t ask.
“We’re not entirely sure. We found her poking her nose where it didn’t belong.”
Long, calculated silence as she takes another sip of coffee and sets it down.
My tongue barely works. “And she…she went missing.”
A huff of disdain. A sly smile. “That’s what they say. If you read the papers…something you should be familiar with.” A knowing look.
Someone chimes in behind me, and I jump.
“Most of them theorized the wrong person stopped to help her when her car broke down.”
I dare a look over my shoulder. Ruby is behind me, arms crossed and jaw set. Jake is beside her, leaning against the wall with hands shoved inside his pockets and eyes on the floor. When did they come in? I didn’t hear them. He looks…shellshocked. My lips part to say something, but Ruby beats me to it with a tsk. “Shame, what they say happened.” Her stare burns through me. “Her attacker brutally killed her, and the police found her in the ditch.” After a beat, she tops it with, “Guess that’s what happens when you poke around where you don’t belong.”
I look to Jake again, to see if he’ll meet my eyes. Why isn’t he looking at me?
