To Catch a Killer by Sheryl Scarborough

Author:Sheryl Scarborough
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2017-02-07T05:00:00+00:00

24

Evidence, at its most basic level, is simply visible proof that something happened.

—VICTOR FLEMMING

Spam looks at me like I’m the prized panda who just devoured her newborn cub. Lysa seems less judgy, but her eyes are huge and sad. A few tears stain her cheeks.

“Erin, you realize this isn’t normal, right?” Lysa says. “You’ve re-created the scene of your mother’s murder.”

“But—” I try to interject.

Lysa holds up her hand, quieting me. “Your feelings about your mom were always in there. They had to be. And I can imagine the things in that box set you off on a river of rage and sadness. But instead of dealing with those emotions, you’re standing here saying, hey, check out this cool secret life I’ve created.…” She trails off, gesturing helplessly in every direction.

I get it, they’re afraid for me … or maybe of me. But they still don’t see the real me.

“You have the privilege of knowing who your parents are. Yes, your mom walked out on you, Spam. But if you passed her on the street tomorrow you would still know who she is. I grew up knowing nothing. Every photo and stick of furniture that you see up here is a brand-new link to my past. I’m learning what my mother thought about things, that her favorite color was red, that she wanted to be a mom more than anything.” I touch the chalk outline lightly. “Even this comforts me.”

A voice comes from behind me. “It comforts you because it makes her real.”

I turn around. Journey is standing just inside the attic, next to the pile of junk. His voice unleashes a slight flutter of anticipation in my chest.

He ducks to clear a low beam and moves toward us. “Otherwise, your mother would just be another one of those things we are taught to believe in—like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny … God.” He shrugs. “My dad.”

There’s a long moment when no one speaks.

Spam unfreezes first. “Seriously? He knew about your secret attic-slash-reenacted-crime-scene before we did?” I add hurt to the array of looks on her face.

“This is freaking me out,” Lysa whispers.

Spam goes to sit on the sofa next to her. Journey and I take seats on the floor.

“Erin, I’m concerned about your mental health,” Lysa says.

“My mental health is fine,” I insist. “It’s my physical health you should be worried about.”

Spam and Lysa exchange an ominous look.

I tick the points off on my fingers. “Fact: The person who killed my mother is definitely still out there. Fact: He killed Miss Peters. Fact: I need your help so I’m not next.”

“The second one is not a fact yet.” Spam sits forward. “Before we go any further I want to see every piece of evidence you have. No holding anything back.”

“Agreed.” They wait quietly while I go to the cupboard, remove the lock, and bring out my mother’s murder box, along with a small paper bag. I set everything on the floor in front of me while I slip into my gloves.

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