Chapter 14: Chapter 14

“Do you think the magistrate judge will approve the appeal?”

“You made a strong case,” Mason says from the other end of the line. “Anyone with common sense can see the correlation between Erin and Keila’s vanishing.

“Dots are forming where many wish there were none and lines are connecting to something…grisly. Whoever is responsible has pulled it off twice, without a trace of third-party forensics.”

“How far could you track the kids’ movements?”

“To Table Bridge. From there the footprints, hair strands, and any piece of DNA stop.”

A blaring car honk kicks at Russo’s heart. He glances at the green light and drives on, shifting gears with one hand as he keeps the phone pressed to his ear, using his shoulder.

“You know the route?”

“Want to add it to your bucket list?”

“I’ve been meaning to take a hike,” he says sarcastically. “Is it a long trail?”

“There are many trails to Table Bridge. It’s at the foot of Skeleton Gorge.”

“It sounds far.”

A throaty laugh trickles down the line. “Not in the distance. At least not for an adult. If I had kids, I’d never let them wander in the woods so far on their own.”

Russo enters yet another luxurious, upper-class neighborhood, mostly gateless properties and sleek cars in driveways.

Russo cannot help but think that in his day, after school as it is now, the streets would be flooded with kids riding their bikes and flying kites. Kids just being kids.

But the street is bare, only spared the fleeting company of the infrequent vehicles in transit.

“I’m close to the Chiang house. I’ll call you back.”

“Right, then you can tell me all about the framed picture with you hugging a hot woman who isn’t your wife. Does Olivia know about the other woman?”

“Get out of my office. And take your eyes off my sister or I’ll pull them from your sockets.”

“Whoa, okay—”

Russo hangs up and chucks his phone on the passenger seat.

Shortly, he arrives at the Chiang residence, parking on the curbside. He exits his car and locks it, pocketing his keys as he strides over to the front entrance.

The wide-framed door had etchings designed in aluminum glass, joined by several other windows that give sight to different parts of the house. He rings the bell.

After a holler and a sequence of pitter-pattering footsteps, the door opens, revealing Daiyu. Her ebony hair is licked by moonlight, silver streaks running through it, and held low in a hair claw.

“Detective Russo. Please, come in.”

He steps forward, and she nearly shoves him back, shooing him angrily. She glares down at his feet and he instantly understands his mistake.

Respecting another’s custom, he removes his shoes and Daiyu places them on the shoe rack along with the others.

She looks up at him with genuine contentment. “Please.” Granting him full entry.

“Detective, are you not hot in that long jacket?”

His lips sneak a smile. “No, ma’am.”

He walks inside with nothing on his feet but striped socks. Cast under his tall shadow, Daiyu is a speck beneath him as she brings him along to the dining room.

The table is already set with a teapot wafting steam, surrounded by tea cups and an array of baked goodies. Daiyu ushers him inside like a waitress, urging him to sit. Russo takes a seat at the head of the table.

“Opal is just practicing for her recital.” She points behind her. “I’ll go fetch her.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Chiang.”

She leaves him alone for several moments. Detective Russo takes the teapot and opens the lid to sniff at the tea, inhaling the herbal scent. Curious, he pours himself a cup and blows on it before sampling a taste.

The warm tea spills across his tongue, changing in his mouth: fresh peppermint to a zingy lemongrass, a honey-sweet chamomile to a sweet-sour hibiscus.

Soon, Daiyu walks in with her tall, svelte daughter.

Opal takes in the scene with a breath and settles on the other head of the table.

“Since Opal is still seventeen and legally a minor, I would prefer to be present.”

“By all means,” he says, gesturing to the open seat as if it is his house.

Daiyu eases down on the flank, reaching for the teapot, but his eyes are trained on Opal. She has a true aristocratic bearing with a regal posture and a face veiled by a glassy mask.

She will not break easily.

“Detective Russo, I truly don’t know what you think you can pry out of me,” she begins with proficient passivity.

“Many tried when Erin vanished. We were prodded and poked like we were exotic creatures, needling us for truth despite being bled dry. Frankly, I’m over it.”

Russo holds his long-lasting neutrality. “I’m sorry that trying to unearth what has happened and locate your former friends has been such an ~inconvenience~ for you.”

Opal’s eye twitches. “That is not what I meant. And you know it.”

“~Zūnzhòng~,” her mother rebukes.

Opal’s gaze drops instantly, a splinter in her mask.

“History has a cruel way of repeating itself, Miss Chiang.” Ready to get into business, Russo continues, “Did you and your old friends like to play in the woods as kids?”

“Every kid did,” she answers snappishly.

“Yes or no,” he says with equal contempt.

“Yes.”

“What did you like about the woods?”

“What do you like about your job?”

His eyes constrict, restraining his frustration. “I love my job.”

“We loved the woods.”

“Why?”

“What do you think?” Insolence irresistible to her nature. “We were kids, we played there, and did role play. Do you require the details?”

“I will proceed to ask you a litany of questions.” Frustration infringing on his hard-wearing neutrality. “After, I will leave.”

Opal breaks into an exaggerated smile. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

“I want to perform a trauma-focused cognitive behavioral technique. In order to do that, I need you to close your eyes.”

Opal nearly suffocates on a retort. She groans and closes her eyes.

“Breathe in and breathe out for me.”

Opal breathes in and out, lengthening both inhalation and exhalation.

Russo observes her, watching her chest rise and fall serenely, her face softening.

“Recall to me your strongest core memory of Erin: sight, smell, sound. What do you see?”

Opal’s mind is a supercomputer that sifts through her memory files methodically.

“Aries’s anti-birthday,” she says quickly. “He was being a jerk about Erin throwing him a surprise party and blew us off for an entire week.

“Erin made things right at his ~anti-birthday ~party, dressed in black with disgustingly delicious hotdogs that Aries loved—all for Aries.”

“And why is that significant to you?”

“Because it showed all of us how far Erin would go, and we would for each other.” Though her eyes are closed, they dart around. “What we had was…unmatched.”

“What is your favorite group memory?”

“Sleepovers at Mia’s house. We’d get the mattresses out in the living room. Girls on the floor, the boys on the couch.”

“What drew you all to each other back then?”

Opal’s cheeks scrunch up.

“Erin. I met her first, and she introduced me to the others. One day at school, I lost my hairband. And I’ve just always had long hair so…” her one hand disappears behind her head to pull out the navy ribbon seamlessly.

With her eyes still closed, she dangles it in the air before dropping it on the table. “She gave me that to tie my hair…we were best friends ever after.”

“So she was like the leader of the group?”

Her one brow lifts. “I was part of no one’s entourage.”

“So whose idea was it to hang out in the woods? Yours?”

Opal’s eyes snap open.

Russo stares back at her with a look that demands an answer.

She returns such a look with a mute challenge.

Daiyu takes a long sip of her tea, suddenly parched.

Tolerance waning, he says, “Miss Chiang?”

Opal inclines her head, her expression aloof with a lordly gaze in her eyes. “I don’t remember. It was a long time ago, Detective.”

“Did Erin have any outside friends besides you and the others?”

“For someone who said they’re investigating Keila’s disappearance,” Daiyu says with mock thoughtfulness, “you’re asking a lot about Erin.”

“To ask about one is to inquire about the other,” Russo answers her, but his eyes drill into Opal. “I believe all roads lead to the missing girls.”

“And what roads are that?” Daiyu asks, her tone souring. “Are you referring to my daughter being one of them?”

“Exactly that,” he says sardonically. “All paths lead to them, and the truth traces back to the woods.”

He shifts forward to drop his elbows on the verge of the table, steepling his fingers.

“Do you know what the theory was at the time of Erin’s disappearance?”

Neither of them responds.

Daiyu is attentive, but Opal appears as if she may spill her guts at any given moment.

“Possible grooming,” he says forthrightly. “It was believed that another person, likely an adult, befriended Erin.

“How they got in contact with her is a mystery. But I presume their meet-ups would be in the woods, which is why she spent an uncanny amount of time in the forest. As did your daughter and the other kids.”

He throws his hand toward a dumbstruck Opal.

“It’s the only theory that would make sense as to why Erin would be lured out of bed in the middle of the night. If it wasn’t for any of you, it was for someone else. She left for a reason.”

Opal’s chin trembles, her mask fracturing with every word.

“The same reason that I believe Keila left,” he goes on, goading a reaction. “They were both lured out.

“Why them? I don’t know. But I find it interesting that the second disappearance, within the span of a decade, belongs to your former friend group. Are they targeting you, perhaps? Are you and the others next?”

Opal erupts from her seat with mania burning in her eyes. ~“Wǒ bùxiǎng zài hé tā shuōhuàle!”~

Russo glances at her calmly and looks at her mother for interpretation. “What was that?”

“She says she is done talking, Detective Russo.”

“For the best,” he says, seizing a form of triumph for the third time. “Thank you both for your time.”

“I will show you out,” Daiyu offers, glancing at Opal glaring holes into his chest.

Opal snatches her ribbon and hurries to her bedroom, closing the door behind her with the utmost care.

She leans her forehead against the door, too many emotions bursting from her heart to her throat, clogging up her airways. Breathing becomes strenuous.

Hyperventilating, she breathes fast and recklessly, dropping to her knees, overcome by ignored fears. Thick walls of hair curtain her face, wisps of hair flying up at every harsh exhale.

~Get yourself together~, her mind rebukes her.

Tears spring from her eyes and her face contorts into a sob. All those emotions of guilt, shame, dread, and anguish are never far gone.

They live beneath the fragile surface of an all-is-well facade. Lurking beneath like a prowling predator, just waiting to attack at any sign of weakness.

And Opal tries to show none of them.

She rises steadily, using the door as support.

Opal turns around and sees her phone lying on her open chemistry textbook. She stalks toward her desk and picks up her phone, remembering the recent addition to her contact list.

The desperation for comfort eclipses her pride to just endure her torment alone. But she isn’t alone. Before her mind can dissuade her from this rash course, she dials the number.

After several rings, it goes straight to voicemail.

“Hey, Aries.” Her voice is shaky.

She swallows and tries again.

More stable, she says, “It’s me, Opal, and to tell you the truth. I don’t know why I’m calling”—a nervous laugh pulses in her throat—“I’m just wondering if that offer for an early dinner still stands.

“Doesn’t have to be dinner, I just—I—” the words stammer out. “It would be cool to see you. I need to see you.”

Opal lowers the phone from her ear, eyes narrowing to something outside of her window. A car paused on the road. Detective Russo watches her from his car, seeing her startled frame edge toward the window fearfully.

Russo smiles to himself and drives on.