Page 48 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

The track was loud when I got there. Both teams had already gathered on the dew-soaked field, the early sun pulling thin wisps of steam from the grass. Bags lined the bleachers, and a cluster of the men’s team stretched near the starting line. Cassidy saw me and waved. I crossed the grass toward her.

“Did you see my messages last night?”

“Good morning to you too.”

She didn’t even pretend to smile. “There’s been another murder.”

“I saw the headline.”

“They’re saying it was worse than Colt. Same setup. Same throat cut, but this one was… messier. Like the killer took their time.”

“Mmm.” I took a slow drink from my water bottle.

“And there’s a witness.” Her voice dropped. “Someone saw something.” She unlocked her phone and held it between us. “See? Everyone's talking about it.”

I glanced at the screen. A local forum thread packed with comments, all circling the same rumor about a possible witness.

“Saw what?” I asked.

“That’s the part no one’s saying. Just that someone saw. My mom’s losing her mind. She told me to keep the doors locked even during the day, like that’s going to stop someone who walks into houses and slits throats without leaving a trace.”

I looked back at her, face carefully blank.

Cassidy shivered, but the fear in her eyes was mixed with something closer to fascination. “Whoever’s doing this is ice cold. No hesitation. In and out. The whole town’s starting to panic.”

I nodded once, letting the silence sit for a beat.

“People are scared,” I said finally. “Makes sense.”

“Yeah, well. I’m scared too. This isn’t some big city thing anymore. It’s here.” She glanced sideways at me. “You don’t seem that worried.”

I shrugged. “Worrying doesn’t change anything.”

She studied me for a second, then shook her head. “You’re weirdly calm about serial killers, Harper. It’s unsettling.”

I gave her a small, dry smile. “I’ll try to look more terrified next time.”

Across the field Jackson arrived with Jason, coffee in one hand and bag on his shoulder. Our eyes met. He lifted his chin slightly; I did the same. Cassidy missed it, still typing on her phone.

Coach Miller called us in. Coach Reid stood next to him, both men reviewing clipboards for the usual Saturday joint practice.

“Same setup as last week,” Coach Miller said. “You’ll work in mixed pairs. Stay with your partner and spend thirty minutes at each station.”

He read the list.

“Black and James.”

A few heads turned toward us. Naomi made a small, sharp sound of displeasure under her breath. Jackson was already moving, crossing the grass without looking at anyone else.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning.”

His gaze lingered on the fading bruises on my face. After a moment, he gave a small nod.

Coach Miller blew the whistle. “One thing before we start. The regional meet is two weeks from Friday, and we’re hosting this year.”

The chatter died.