Everything We Didn't Say(4)
Juniper was seized by a desire to plant a kiss on Cora’s gaunt cheek, but that was out of character for them both. Instead, she turned away and lifted a stack of books that were ready to be reshelved.
Cora frowned, taking the books from Juniper and setting them back down. “There’ll be time for all that. You just got here. I want to hear about everything. How was your trip?”
“Fine. Until I got pulled over in front of the rental. No ticket, but…” Juniper lifted one shoulder.
“You’re kidding. Welcome to Jericho, right?”
“Something like that.” Juniper reached for the books again, and this time managed to slip out from behind the counter with her cargo. She wasn’t trying to avoid Cora, but she felt a frisson of disquiet. Maybe she had underestimated how difficult it would be to step back into her old life.
“What about the podcast?” Cora followed her a few steps, then stopped abruptly. She glanced around and lowered her voice, even though they were the only ones in the library. “Have you figured out who’s doing it?”
“Not yet.”
“Is it someone local?”
“I think so.”
“Well, do you recognize the voice?”
Juniper felt a tingle of annoyance. “It’s not even out yet. I don’t know who’s doing it, and I don’t know how far along they are.”
Cora nodded, but she looked a bit confused.
“I want to stop them before the podcast goes live.”
“And Jonathan?” Cora changed tack. “Does he know you’re here?”
It was an innocuous question, but it stung all the same. Juniper paused. There was no way for Cora to know the distance that stretched between her and her brother. The boy who had once been her best friend and was now a virtual stranger. “He knows I’m home,” Juniper said finally, and hoped she could leave it at that.
“When are you going to see Willa?”
“What’s with the twenty questions?” Juniper sighed before answering. “Tonight.” Then she disappeared between the floor-to-ceiling shelves of adult fiction. There would be time later for a heart-to-heart, to hear the scary details of Cora’s illness and confide everything she dared to hope for Willa. Her plan to set things right. For now, there was work to do, and Juniper was grateful for it.
But after an hour or so, even the rustle of paper and the scent of old hardcovers wasn’t enough to slow the scurry of Juniper’s pulse. Her mind snagged at the thought of the podcast, and grateful for something concrete to focus on, she shifted the books to one arm and pulled her phone from her pocket.
Juniper had taken a couple of screenshots to save the thread from an obscure true crime message board. She always hid her identity online, which allowed her to gain access to information that might be concealed if her unwitting informants knew who she really was.
Posted by u/cabgreckoning10 11 hours ago
Working on a podcast about the Murphy murders. Already have a few production companies interested. Need advice re: editing. Any recs?
There were several comments. Links to editorial services and personal offers of help. A few users wondered about the Murphy murders, and then praised cabgreckoning10 for finding a compelling true crime story that hadn’t yet been made into a podcast.
Of course, jumping into the conversation had been tricky, potentially even dangerous if she’d inadvertently revealed herself to have more than a passing interest. Still, she had longed to pepper cabgreckoning10 with questions: Who are you? What do you know about the Murphy murders? Were you there? She’d managed to restrain herself. Instead, she had thought long and hard about her comment, hands trembling as they hovered over the keyboard, and finally settled on:
BookishJ47 Score hidden 10 hours ago
Got it solved?
cabgreckoning10 * 8.2K points * 10 hours ago
Close enough. I’m going to prove that bastard Jonathan Baker did it.
It had flipped a switch inside her, and Juniper now lived with the constant tick of a countdown clock. Who was cabgreckoning10, and did he know the truth?
Rage and desperation made people do inexplicable things, and Juniper knew a thing or two about secrets. But “that bastard Jonathan Baker” implied that cabgreckoning10 was no stranger. He—or she—was likely someone from Jericho. Maybe even someone Juniper knew.
And maybe it was all her fault that a killer in Jericho walked free.
CHAPTER 2
SUMMER 14 AND A HALF YEARS AGO
I wake to the sound of Cello Suite no. 1 in G Major, if my ear can be trusted. Mom is in a state, I can tell from the way she cuts through the prelude: a graceless thwack, a stutter of her bow when it should have slid like a knife through butter. Of course, it’s still lovely, still enough to make me catch my breath and press my ear to the hardwood floor where I can’t just hear the music but feel it reverberating like a whisper against my cheek.
The floor. Why am I on the floor? It takes me a moment to realize that I’m aching all over, my shoulder pinned beneath me, bare arm stitched with lines from the narrow planks where I rested. I press myself up, head hanging as I try to remember. Last night’s cutoffs nip into my thighs and a spaghetti strap dangles around my elbow. I right it, recalling the night before in snapshots, Polaroid moments blurred around the edges.