Page 163 of Corpse Roads
“Remember, you’re growing around your trauma. Not erasing it. If you need to speak to me before our next session, I’m a call away.”
“Thank you, doc.”
He smiles back. “Go on, then.”
Slipping out of the interview room, I head back to the foyer where I left Leighton scrolling on his phone an hour ago. The leather sofa is empty. He must’ve gone downstairs to the cafeteria to get food.
Waiting for the elevator to arrive so I can hunt him down, the doors slide open with a ding, revealing a frazzled occupant.
“Hunter?”
He looks up from his phone. “Harlow. I was just coming to get you. Leighton’s doing something urgent for me.”
“Is everything okay?”
Hair framing his face in disorderly waves, Hunter looks more agitated than when he left the house this morning. Everyone was heading into a big meeting when we arrived.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Good timing.” Grabbing his arm, I pull him towards a nearby office. “Something came up in therapy. You need to hear this.”
Inside the office, Hunter extricates himself from my grip and shuts the door. I don’t sit when he gestures towards an empty seat, pacing the small space instead.
Fire ants are eating at my skin, infecting me with doubt and worry. What if my mind is playing tricks again? I’ve unearthed these memories, but I don’t know if I can trust them.
“Harlow?” Hunter asks with concern. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I stop pacing and bite my lip. “You know my bad dream last night? The one that made me sick?”
I scared him almost as much as myself when I woke up screaming like a banshee. He was asleep in the armchair as we’d been watching another black-and-white Christmas movie together.
“We unravelled it in therapy. It was about Kiera.”
“Kiera James?” he answers grimly. “She was the second victim to be located. Particularly gruesome, if I recall correctly.”
“They… um, dismembered her. That’s what I was dreaming about. Mrs Michaels broke my wrist when I refused to help.”
“Bloody hell, Harlow.”
I wave off his sickened expression. “That’s not the important bit. I think she knew him. She told me he wasn’t my real father.”
“You remembered that?”
“Yeah. She was religious too. He didn’t like it when she insulted him, so he rushed through the ritual and strangled her instead.”
Hunter takes a moment to process. “This doesn’t fit his MO. The other victims were randomly selected for punishment.”
“Because this wasn’t about repentance and punishing her for sinning. It was some kind of revenge. He killed her out of hatred.”
He shakes his head. “This is unbelievable. If he knew her, why was it missed in the previous police investigation?”
“You tell me.”
With my news delivered, I feel shaken. Hunter approaches tentatively. When I’m pulled into his arms, I deflate. He rubs circles on my back, his beard tickling the top of my head.
“You’re okay,” he whispers.
“None of this is okay. He knew her and she was torn apart anyway. Why doesn’t anyone else know this? Or am I just losing it?”