“I’m angry. She’s supposed to be mine. Why is she there?”
“What else can you see?”
His eyes snap up, a sharp gasp tearing from his chest.
“Blood.”
Eli has been holed up in our room ever since our last session. It isn’t surprising—I just wish I could do more to comfort him.
She’s supposed to be mine. He’s laughing at me.That’s what Eli said.
Thesheis obvious. Jenny. But who ishe?
I open my laptop and type:Jenny Taylor death.
I scour article after article, searching for anything—any scrap of information.
Just as I’m ready to give up, I blow out a frustrated breath.
But then—
Second Body Discovered Alongside Recently Discovered Body of Teen.
My pulse stutters.
Could this be it?
I click the link.
My breath catches.
Melanie Calder has just been found dead, her body discovered a few days after Jenny’s.
Dread seeps into my bones. Eli’s mum?
Mrs. Calder had never been reported missing by her family. The two bodies were discovered beneath their former home. The new owners had planned to rebuild, but demolition has been paused pending the investigation.
I keep reading.
Their deaths have been ruled suspicious, and a homicide investigation is underway. Police have refused to comment on the cause of death at this time.
Two bodies. Two people.
My fingers tap nervously against the keyboard—not typing, just needing to move.
Did Eli kill his mum and Jenny?
If not, who did? And why?
It’s not the ethical or legal dilemma that has my heart racing. It’s my own feelings. What do I do now—now that the man I love may have killed two innocent people?
I’m not sure why I’m helping him anymore. Am I his therapist or his partner? The lines between those distinctions blurred long ago.
Before I can think any further, Eli creeps into the living room, his footsteps quiet and uncertain, so unlike his usualself-assuredness.
“Hi,” I whisper, smiling at him in a way that I hope is reassuring.
He sits gingerly on the other sofa. The distance is telling.