Paths They Cross (Lakewood Secrets Psychological Thrillers) by Angela Kay

Author:Angela Kay [Kay, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stained Glass Publishing
Published: 2024-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

As I step inside the police station, my nerves are frayed, pulling me in every direction. The conversation with Julie replays in my mind. She mentioned overhearing Rachel’s plans to investigate Coach Thompson. Then, two days later, Rachel was found dead.

The idea that Coach Thompson could have murdered Rachel while I was at the school sends a chill down my spine. The thought loops endlessly in my head: why didn’t he kill me? If he knocked me unconscious outside his office, he had the perfect opportunity.

Unless…he wanted to frame me.

The possibility feels both terrifying and absurd, yet it clings to me. I have to admit, if framing me was his plan, it’s a good one.

I know she believed there was something off about Ava Winter’s death. And now with Aurora missing and Julie’s feeling of the coach, I’m left wondering if he plans on silencing anyone who gets in his way.

The scene at the cabin forces its way in my mind, and a fresh wave of cold shiver washes over me, and suddenly I’m feeling sick.

Shaking my head as if to clear the thought, though the sickness remains. I stride toward the counter, the steady thump of my heels echoing through the fluorescent-lit hallway.

The desk sergeant, a woman with tightly coiled hair and wired-rimmed glasses, peers at me over the counter. Her gaze narrows as if trying to bring me into focus, her expression one of impatience.

“My name’s Tessa Parker,” I say, my voice steady despite the swirling thoughts in my mind. “Detective Harris asked me to stop by.”

She holds up a finger without a word, her expression unchanged. Her gum smacks rhythmically as she grabs the receiver and punches in a few numbers with sharp movements. The scent of stale coffee hangs in the air.

As she speaks softly into the phone, I catch my name but little else. I focus on the small, insignificant details around me—the scuffed linoleum beneath my feet, the way the fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead, the distant murmur of voices from somewhere deeper in the station.

The sergeant hangs up, her gaze flicking back to me. “The detective will be with you shortly,” she says, her tone clipped.

“Thank you.” I step aside, trying to find a spot where I won’t feel so exposed.

I pace slowly, the minutes stretching out, each one longer than the last. My hands tremble slightly, and I clasp them together to steady myself, taking slow breaths.

A nearby bulletin board catches my eye, covered in wanted posters and community notices. I read the words without really absorbing them, my mind too preoccupied, trying to determine what it is about Rachel Harris wanted to speak with me about. I consider that maybe he wants to tell me he found her killer.

But it doesn’t work that way,

Finally, the door to the detective’s office opens, and Harris steps out, his expression unreadable. He spots me and gives a small nod, beckoning me over. I steel myself and walk toward him.

“Thank you for meeting me, Ms.

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