gloves and places safety glasses over her eyes.
She picks up the first photo, but then stops. Turning to look at us, she says, “Before I go through with this, I’d like a little more explanation on why these pictures are so important.”
“Phoebe, just trust us when we say it’s important,” I reply.
“So, let me get this straight. You have no idea what’s on these, yet they’re important?” she asks.
“Yes,” Parker and I say.
“Okay, okay. I get it. It’s important. I’ll get on it,” she replies with a slight laugh.
Chapter Thirty One
I watch as Phoebe starts the developing process. Laying the picture in the first tray, she moves it around, causing the photo to slide about in the solution. After a few moments, she removes it with a pair of tongs and places it in the next tray. The image gradually begins to appear as she jostles the tray back and forth, making the picture swish around in the liquid. The anticipation is killing me.
“Is that an arm?” I ask when Phoebe pulls out the picture with the tongs.
“Yeah, I think so,” she answers, tilting her head while studying it. She attaches it to the line with a clothespin, letting it drip-dry. “Where did you say you got these pictures?”
“We didn’t,” Parker responds, saving me the hassle of trying to make something up. “Believe me, the less you know, the better.”
“All right, what’s that supposed to mean? Are you guys in trouble or something?”
“It’s complicated, and like Parker said, it’s better you don’t know, okay? You probably wouldn’t believe us if we told you, anyway,” I explain while handing her the next photo.
She takes the picture and tosses it into the solution before saying, “Try me.”
Parker and I look at each other and he nods. It’s probably for the best that we tell her. Phoebe can be pretty persistent.
“Okay…condensed version. There’s someone killing people in our town and they’re using me, and now Parker, as pawns. Those pictures you have are a part of this whole effed-up scenario,” I say, and then realize how ridiculous it must sound.
I can tell it’s taking a few seconds for it to sink in, but when it registers with her, it registers hard.
“Wait, what? You’ve got to be kidding me. Is this some kind of Halloween prank or something?”
“No, she’s telling the truth. Gunnar, Mr. Whitman, Janice—all murdered and not accidents,” Parker interjects.
Her eyes are huge. “You’re not joking, are you? And this killer is still out there stalking you? And then you came to me? Holy shit.”
“And this is why we didn’t want to tell you. We really need to see what else is on those pictures.”
She draws in a deep breath, probably to calm her nerves, before she turns to face the tray again. “Congratulations. You two have successfully freaked me out.” I see her hand shaking as she moves the picture over to the next tray. The moment I turn to talk with Parker, Phoebe whimpers behind me. “Oh my God! It’s a guy’s head. It’s Kevin’s head. The picture is of Kevin’s fucking head!” she shouts, bending down toward the ground while taking in a few deep breaths.
I rush over to look at the photo. A gasp escapes my mouth before I can cover it with my hand. Staring back at me from the tray is a picture of Kevin from the neck up with his eyes closed.
“No. Kevin,” I whisper. I feel Parker touch my back and begin to rub side to side.
“I’m sorry,” he says, moving his hand up to rest on my shoulder. “I don’t think you need to develop any more pictures, Phoebe. I’m pretty sure we've seen what this psycho wants us to.”
“We need to take these to your dad ASAP,” Phoebe chimes in after regaining her composure. She scrambles to collect them all and stuff them back into the folder.
A phone’s ping fills the small room. I look down and see the light from Parker’s phone shining through his pocket. My stomach drops at the mere thought of what the message says.
He takes the phone from his pocket and reads the message out loud. “Three go in…only two get out.”
“Who the hell sent that? Are they talking about us?” Phoebe asks in a squeaky voice, rejoining us after collecting the pictures.
“We just need to calm down and stick together, okay? It’s three against one,” I say, hoping I sound confident. On the inside, I’m scared senseless.
“Isn’t there an exit door down the hall from this