Chapter 45
Forty-Five
Gemma
I follow the edge of a smaller road, one that traffic rarely goes down because it tails off and leads to nothing more than a field of sheep.
As I reach the end of the road, the den comes into view.
My heart palpitates at the sight of it. The snow has thawed slightly but from what I heard, we’re heading into the mother of all storms tonight, so I need to hurry back.
Morgan, Cora and I are leaving. Whatever Ethan chooses to do is no longer my business because I’ll never forgive him.
I gasp as I stare at the den. I can’t move. It’s like the snowy carpet underneath my feet is made of glue. My heart bangs until it’s beating in my throat. I’m putting stress on Beanie. The doctor said light walking was fine, but here I am, trudging through woods that terrify me.
I throw my bag over my shoulder and place a protective hand on my stomach. My cervix is inflamed, which led to the bleeding. I now know why it stings to pee and why my lower back has been aching. I take a few deep breaths and think of Beanie. Breathe in and breathe out.
I stare ahead and tremble. The past haunting me isn’t something I can breathe through. The den calls me. It wants me to go in and face my past, but my feet feel like lead. I stumble slightly as I spot several pink ribbons tied around a tree.
Back then, Jasmine kept hanging around here but it was our den, mine and Quinn’s. It used to only be one shed, and it belonged to a man who died of alcohol poisoning. I notice that it has more parts to it now and it creeps me out that Morgan was in the woods the other night.
I need to go home. My arms ache to hold my children and I have to pack before the storm takes hold, but my legs take me closer to the den.
I open the first door. A gust builds up and the wooden panels rattle. On stepping into the windowless plywood section, I’m plunged into darkness.
Lightheadedness sends me off balance. I place a hand on the wood to steady myself.
How do I get into the main shed? I pull out my phone and shine my torch app around.
I flinch as my arm gets caught in a huge cobweb.
There’s a box on the floor. I know there’s a third shed so I move it out of the way.
There’s a gap in the wood that reaches my waist. I place my bag down and kneel onto the rotten floor then I shuffle through, careful not to catch my head on the jagged wood or exert myself too much.
On standing, I see that there is nothing in the tiny end room but a dark curtain.
I don’t remember there being a window in the den but maybe I was wrong.
As I tug the material, I gasp as it drops to the floor, exposing a whole wall full of clues.
There are notes on some of the letters that have been sent to the neighbours, including the one that I took from Quinn’s post box.
Worst of all, I recognise some of the writing.
It’s Morgan’s. The whole board is titled ‘Detective Morgan and Detective Harry’s Investigation into the Case of the Clover Lane Poisoner’.
This is what Morgan has been up to when she’s been ‘at Harry’s’ or ‘walking the dog’.
Jasmine’s name is scribbled in the bottom corner. How does my daughter know of Jasmine?
I try to make sense of the board. All this time, I’ve been confused, my suspicions bouncing around between Ray and Tessa, but looking at this, I feel it has to be Quinn.
She knew when I left her house that day that I might check her post box, because why wouldn’t I?
Everyone had received horrible letters. It would be a natural thing to do.
It could have been her way of telling me about her and Ethan.
I run that scenario. She writes letters to everyone, making it look like I have it in for them and she also writes letters to herself, so that we don’t suspect her.
She’s trying to make me look unstable so that everyone hates me.
Why would she do that when she’s meant to love me? I don’t understand.
I’m shaking, knowing that my daughter has been here.
I told her she wasn’t allowed to come into the woods, but she lied and came here regardless.
This shed is closing in on me. I need to get out.
I crouch and as I do the light catches another letter, stuck to wood, just above the hole.
It’s on the same type of paper and the note is written in the same black ink capital letters.
JASMINE WOZ ’ERE!