Lies We Bury by Elle Marr

Author:Elle Marr [Marr, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amazon
Published: 2021-03-31T23:00:00+00:00

Twenty

The next day, rolling hills sprawl before my windshield on the winding road to Arch. Spruce firs and pine trees, my friends growing up, line the road as if welcoming me home. There weren’t many trees around where our house was located in the desert of Oregon, but the few there were felt like wise caretakers watching out for us, vigilant throughout time and able to confirm that whatever crisis was occurring, whatever we had already lived through, would pass.

Along the highway, patches of black earth from a recent wildfire interrupt the greenery in sporadic bursts, marking the areas where firefighters were unable to succeed in subduing the flames. Seems I’m not the only one who acquired new scars.

I didn’t want to come home, let alone remove myself so far from Portland, where the Post could call at any minute with a request for coverage. The update this morning on the “tunnel murders”—what the Four Alarm and Stakehouse crimes are now being called—was less than encouraging. Gia Silva continues to be the chief person of interest, while Topher Cho, on the other hand, has been cleared of suspicion. Having taken the liberty of scrolling through Topher’s social media posts, I have to agree. The mix of selfies and inspirational quotes about achieving one’s dreams didn’t strike me as belonging to a killer, even one who’s interested in boosting his acting career.

Meanwhile, Gia’s got a history of living on the street, of drug use, and of ties to local drug lords who’ve committed serious crimes, including murder. But as a nineteen-year-old girl, she’s only ever occupied the periphery of those incidents. Counterintuitively, the police seem to think that’s why she’s the ringleader—the brains behind it all. And at one point, she was found sleeping in the tunnels below Four Alarm—a direct link between Gia and the first victim.

Without more to go on, I’m returning home and hoping for some big reveal in Arch. Following bread crumbs of details I’m remembering with Shia is the only thing I’ve done that resembles progress. Rosemary’s recollections of a time when so many of my own experiences were a blur may be the light bulb I need.

Downtown Arch is picturesque. Shadows from today’s overcast skies cut the painful glare of the river that runs through the town. Boutiques and some larger, corporate shops have replaced family-owned standbys, reminding me that life continues to roll forward even when I wish it would stop forever and Monday would never come. The ice-cream shop run by the Wilkinsons still pulses; a few early-bird customers enjoy a cone beneath the store’s awning, searching for relief from the region’s dusty, dry air.

I pass the elementary school where I attended grades three through six. After a year of adjusting and minimal homeschooling as she had done with us underground, Rosemary was told I had to transition to public school and a normal life. Wounding emotions limp to mind, recalling the way other kids avoided me for months—they had all heard I was demon spawn and born of incest.

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