Ember X (Death Collectors) - By Jessica Sorensen Page 0,32
tells the woman.
The woman leans on the counter. “Can you just check again?”
Mrs. Finnelly sighs and types something on her keyboard. She rolls her chair back to the corner filing cabinet and takes out a thin manila folder. “Here you go, Beth, but I don’t see how her file is going to help. In fact, she’s right here, so it might be better just to talk to her.”
Beth turns around and her blue eyes promptly darken with abhorrence. “Ember Edwards, I’m detective Crammer.”
My lips twitch. “Okay.”
She motions to the counselor’s office door. “Why don’t we go in here so we can talk more privately.”
I follow her into the counselor’s office, which is packed with plants and family photos. There’s a bag hanging on a coat rack in the far corner and the air smells like pumpkin and spice. Detective Crammer takes a seat in the office chair and I sit down in front of the desk.
She opens the file with my name printed on it. “You excel in English… but your math grades look a little weak.” She takes off her glasses and tosses them on the desk. “Well, I’ll get straight to the point since we only have the office for a few minutes.” She rolls forward in the chair, and overlaps her hands on top of the desk. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, Laden Miller disappeared last night. Now, the last place he was seen was a party you were at. Is that correct?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “But a lot of people were.”
“Just a simple yes or no will suffice,” she says snidely. “Now, as I’m sure you’ve also heard, Laden Miller’s car was found down at the bridge in a very similar situation as how your father’s car was left after his disappearance three years ago. You were the only one ever investigated for his disappearance—the police never had any more leads.”
I brazenly cross my arms. “The charges against me were dropped.”
She pulls out a small notepad from the pocket of her jacket. “I pulled up your father’s case and it said that they got a call right before your dad disappeared. The call was from you and you said he was going to be murdered.”
“No, I said he was going to die. There’s a huge difference.”
“Huge difference or not, it’s highly suspicious. And then you ran away right after.”
I opt for silence, knowing from experience that fewer words mean fewer opportunities to twist what I say around.
Her eyes narrow at me and then she jots something in notepad. “It’s such a strange case. Raven feathers, an hourglass, the bright red X on the road. And of course there’s the blood.”
“They’re all symbols of death,” I say. “I told the police this last time.”
Her eyebrows furrow as she reads over her notes. “Hmm… no one ever made a note of that.”
I shrug indifferently. “Well, it’s true. Except for the X, they all represent death. You can Google it if you want. It’s pretty common knowledge.”
“Did you do that before or after your dad disappeared?”
“After.”
She reddens with frustration, fighting to keep her cool. “You know, I find it highly suspicious that you were at a party Laden Miller attended and then he disappeared. And there were witnesses that said they saw you peeling off in your car right after Laden drove away with another girl.”
Witnesses? “I had somewhere to be… my mom… she needed me home for something,” I lie, but not very well.
She sifts through the notepad. “Actually, if I read the note in the file right, your mother’s been a pretty inactive parent. In fact, she gave up her custody of you and sent you to live with your father when you were four.”
“Inactive or not, she asked me to be home early that night because she needed my help with something.” I make an effort not to fidget, or she’ll use it against me.
Her eyes scrutinize me. “Where were you between the hours of two to four a.m. on Saturday?”
Crashing into a lake, drawing crazy notes on my wall, blacking out. Shit! “I was with Asher Morgan.” It slips out of me and I instantly regret it.
Her eyebrows arch. “And he is?”
“A friend of mine.” I’m digging myself a giant, coffin-sized hole. I grip onto the armrest, hoping she doesn’t notice my uneasiness.
She writes Asher Morgan down at the top of the notebook and then tucks it in her pocket. Then she hands me her card. “We’ll be in touch.”