The Thrashers(12)
There was a journal, and the police needed it for some reason.
There was a journal, and Jodi wasn’t sure they could trust what was inside of it.
Chapter Four
Her head spun as she walked from the bus stop with two grocery bags dangling from her arms. Were they brought into the police station because of something in Emily’s journal?
As she walked up to her house, the smell of paint fumes assaulted her nostrils. There was a tarp laid out on the neighbor’s lawn and a department store mannequin on top. It was spray-painted bright pink. Oliver Burns ripped off his protective mask and adjusted his septum ring.
Jodi used to say hello to him, but when he’d stopped saying hello back in freshman year, she’d stopped, too. Since then, he’d gotten a bit of a reputation for “drugs and drag,” as his Instagram bio and TikTok presence would say. He utilized the video app like a New Helvetia High gossip account with followers all over the Sacramento area. He’d tagged her in something Friday night—a mock-up of a mugshot, one for each of them.
He pushed his blue hair off his brow and pulled the bottom of his T-shirt up to wipe his sweating face. He was so thin—his hip bones popping out and his ribs like ladder steps. He hadn’t been that thin last year. When they were younger, Oliver actually had a little meat on his bones. She still remembered that adorable asthmatic boy who used to stage plays with her in his backyard.
His shirt dropped, and he met her eyes. When she passed him on the sidewalk, she could swear she heard him start whistling “Jailhouse Rock.”
Pushing open her front door with her shoe, Jodi quickly set down the bags in the kitchen.
“Jo?” Her dad’s voice called.
“Yeah, it’s me.” She unpacked one bag and tossed it into the plastic bag that held all other plastic bags.
Footsteps came toward the kitchen. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry, I got in late and didn’t get to go to Save Mart.”
Jodi tossed the frozen dinners in the freezer drawer and straightened. “It’s okay. I got it. How was Houston?”
Her dad was in his pajamas still, rubbing his face with a frown. “San Antonio.”
“I got Texas right.”
“It was fine. Quick. What time did you get in last night?”
The memory of the police station swam up. Jodi took a deep breath, preparing herself. “Around two.”
“That’s pretty late, Jo,” he said, leveling his stare at her.
“Well, let’s pretend I said eleven then.” She flashed a grin at him.
He sighed. “Look, I know I said we’d do Topgolf today…”
Jodi’s throat tightened. “Oh. No, it’s fine.”
“It’s just that I took a quick overnight for Reno.”
She nodded. “That’s great.” She shoved the cereal into the cupboard.
“You sure? Is there anything new with you?”
Jodi smiled weakly. She thought of Dad’s shift tonight, and how he would cancel it if she told him anything about the cops. How he took these shifts when he got stressed about money. How he drank when he was stressed about money.
“Nothing new,” she said.
She finished unpacking the groceries and let her mind circle the conversation with Maureen and what Detective Harding had in that journal.
* * *
On Sunday, Paige offered to help her look for new hair colors. The “Box-Dye” comment had been gnawing at Jodi since Friday, and Paige had sensed it. They grabbed lunch first at Burr’s, the local ice cream parlor and sandwich shop.
“I like that one you sent me last night,” Paige said, wiping her hands on her napkin. “It’s very Lana Del Rey.”
Jodi tore her gaze away from a flyer on the table, announcing an art contest for twelve-to eighteen-year-olds. The winner just got their art hung at Burr’s, but she still thought it was probably a long shot.
“Yeah, I just want it to look more natural.”
“Totally.” Paige pulled out her phone to take her “after” picture in her Instagram “before and after” foodie challenge. “Ugh, the hell is up with this?”
“What is it?”
“Every time I take pictures of food it’s good, but when I take pics of a person”—she lifted her phone for a quick snap of Jodi mid-bite—“there’s this freaking shadow.”
Paige turned her phone around. Behind the image of Jodi, there was a flare of light, like a reflection off glass. Jodi turned around, but there was nothing there. “Huh. You know, Lucy’s pictures had the same thing the other day.”
“Really?” Paige’s eyes snapped up to her. “Which ones?”
“From the Vallow party. There’s this flare…”
She flipped to the pictures and extended her phone to Paige.
Jodi pushed her thumb against her palm. She shouldn’t have mentioned it. Paige could fixate on small details like a conspiracy theorist. Her aunt saw a medium, so sometimes she thought she was an expert in “the weird.”
She watched Paige scroll through, the color draining from her face.
“That’s so creepy,” Paige whispered. She handed Jodi’s phone back, staring off over Jodi’s shoulder. After a moment she whispered, “Do you ever think Emily’s still here?”