Thornbird

Chapter Five Looking for Bones

five

Looking for Bones

Instead of going straight home after school, my cousins take me into Starling. Jasmine wants to show me around town, although she warns me not to get my hopes up. “It’s so small you’ll die of boredom,” she says in what I’m starting to recognize as her signature dramatic fashion.

The afternoon sun feels warm on my face as I step off the school bus, squinting into the light.

My cousins are already charging ahead, Jasmine talking a mile a minute about cheerleading.

I should be paying attention, showing interest in her interests, but my mind’s elsewhere. It usually is these days.

“Ryan, come on,” she grumbles, waving at me from the sidewalk.

I blink out of my thoughts. “Sorry,” I say, picking up the pace to catch up with them.

She wasn’t kidding about the size of the town.

It’s literally one street. The end. Downtown consists of a clothing boutique, a Starbucks, some bars and restaurants, a pharmacy, and a handful of other storefronts.

At the very end of the street there’s a clock tower with a white facade.

Beside it is a palatial redbrick building that might be a courthouse or city hall.

Connor points in that direction, his eyebrows shooting up. “What the hell’s going on over there?”

I follow his gaze to the small square, which is packed with people. Reporters holding cameras and microphones line up in front of a makeshift podium, and there’s a nervous energy crackling in the air. It makes me uneasy.

“Oooh, looks like a press conference or something,” Jasmine says. “Let’s check it out.”

I hesitate. “Maybe we shouldn’t. It’s probably a—”

Before I can finish, she’s already dragging me forward by the wrist. Connor trails us with a shrug. As we get closer, I can see the faces of the people gathered around. Pale, solemn, some teary-eyed.

“Oh shit,” Jasmine hisses. “Abort.”

“What is it?” I whisper in alarm.

“It’s the families. Of his victims.”

Oh shit is right. I shouldn’t be here.

I really shouldn’t be here.

But it’s too late for us to flee. The crowd hushes as a man in a police uniform approaches the podium. If we tried to make our escape now, it would be too noticeable.

“Thank y’all for being here,” the officer begins, his voice steady but grim.

“As y’all know, it has been nearly a decade since Gabriel Thorn was arrested for his unspeakable crimes, but the town of Starling, and the families of his victims, have not given up hope of finding answers.

Today they have an important announcement to make. ”

My stomach drops. This can’t be happening. I glance at Jasmine, whose face has paled.

“I’d like to introduce Benjamin White,” the officer says. “His mother, Anabel, was Gabriel Thorn’s fifth victim.”

A guy in his mid-twenties walks up to the podium.

I immediately recognize him from the articles and news clips about the case.

He’s been interviewed a lot. If I’m remembering correctly, after Benjamin graduated from college he made a ton of money from a tech start-up that he sold.

Now the Whites are worth hundreds of millions.

Benjamin steps up to the microphone, his shoulders tense. He stares out at the crowd for a moment before he finally speaks.

“I want to start off by thanking everyone for being here this afternoon. It’s been twelve years since my mom was taken from us, and not a day goes by where I don’t think about her. About what happened to her. About how we still don’t know where she is.”

His voice shakes, and I can tell he’s struggling to hold it together. The crowd is silent, hanging on every word.

“My family,” he continues, “and the other families who have suffered—we’ve been waiting.

Waiting for answers, waiting for some kind of closure.

But it hasn’t come. The Starling police and the FBI did a great job putting the culprit behind bars where he belongs, but the investigation into the location of the remains has stalled… ”

He trails off, shaking his head. I feel sick.

“A death sentence is not enough for us,” he says, and the small group standing behind him nods in agreement.

Their faces are hard, expressionless. Especially the young woman at the end. She has deep brown skin and thick black hair, and she keeps wringing her hands together, her lips set in a tight line.

“We need to know where our mothers are.” Benjamin pauses, his eyes sweeping over the crowd.

He looks so tired. “And that’s why,” he says, his voice gaining strength, “we’re offering a new reward for anyone who can give us the information we need to find the remains of our loved ones.

The current reward of one hundred thousand dollars was already one of the largest in the country—today we are upping that amount to one million dollars. ”

The crowd murmurs, and I feel dizzy. When my hands start to shake, I shove them into my pockets to hide it.

Beside me, Jasmine gasps before covering her mouth with her palm.

Benjamin leans in, lowering his voice, but it’s somehow more intense, like every word carries the weight of all the years he’s spent without his mother.

“To whoever is out there…if you know something, anything…please. Please come forward. Help us end this. They deserve to be found. My mom, all of them—they deserve peace. We deserve peace.”

At that, he steps back from the podium, his face a mask of barely concealed pain. The officer returns to the microphone, but I can’t hear him anymore. Everything feels too close, too loud, like my heart is pounding in my ears.

Jasmine grabs my hand, but it isn’t until the three of us are far enough away that she turns to us, buzzing with excitement.

“One million dollars! Did you hear that?”

“It’s a lot of dough.” Connor shrugs.

“Yes, Con, it’s a lot of dough,” she echoes, staring at him pointedly.

“What?” he says.

“They’re offering a million bucks for information about the bodies.” She gives him another are-you-stupid look. “We need to find the bodies.”

That gets her a loud bark of laughter from her twin. Me, I’m too stunned to laugh. She wants to find the bodies? As in, the remains of the six women my father slaughtered?

Hard pass.

“Jazzy,” Connor says, slinging his hands in his pockets. “Here’s a fun fact: We’re not detectives. We wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“We don’t have to be detectives. We just need to find out where the bodies are,” she insists. Her gaze snaps toward me. “You’re in, right, Ryan?”

“Um. No.”

“Why not?” She grits her teeth, and I’m surprised she doesn’t stomp her foot in a tantrum.

“Because she only got here a few days ago,” Connor answers on my behalf, “and she’s not gonna spend her free time digging for bodies. Like, literally digging.”

“They might not be underground,” Jasmine counters. “Come on, you guys. We could totally solve this.”

I force a laugh, though it feels jagged and wrong in my throat. “You’re nuts,” I manage to say, rolling my eyes at her. “We’re not going to solve a murder.”

“The murders were already solved,” she replies in a haughty voice. “We’re looking for bones.”

“You should leave it to the cops,” I advise.

Connor nods. “Agreed.”

She huffs. “You guys are both such cowards. Fine, whatever. Don’t help me. But don’t come begging for a handout when I’ve got a million bucks in my bank account.”

Her cavalier tone grates on me. I glance toward the town square where the crowd still lingers. People hoping for answers, for peace. And here she is, talking about finding bodies like it’s some kind of treasure hunt.

Guilt twists in my gut. I hate this. I hate him for what he did. For making me carry this secret.

“You are not snooping around on your own,” Connor warns his twin.

“Why not? It’s not like Uncle Psycho is going to murder me for asking questions. He’s already in jail. You really don’t want in on this, Ryan?”

I don’t respond. I can’t. My throat feels tight, my mind spinning. Benjamin’s words echo in my head: They deserve to be found.

“This isn’t some sort of game,” I say, frowning at Jasmine. “Those people back there lost their loved ones.”

“Those people back there,” she mimics, “are the ones offering money for answers. And as far as I’m concerned, we deserve that money.”

Connor snickers. “Uh-huh. All right, I’ll bite. Why do we deserve it?”

“Really?” she says, glaring at him. “You’ve forgotten about the years of rumors? The bullying? The nasty fucking comments we still get when we walk down the hall?”

“Oh, lay off it, Jazzy. You’re in cheer. I play football. We’re not some hopeless losers being bullied at school. So what if we got picked on when we were younger or if a dickhead or two make a rude comment about our uncle a couple times a month. We’re doing fine.”

I hide a smile. I’m starting to like Connor a lot.

But Jasmine is too stubborn to concede his point. “The Shipleys suffered just as much as those other families.”

Her brother snorts. “Your main character syndrome is out of control.”

“Whatever. C’mon. Let’s go to Starbucks.”

For a moment, I think Jasmine is going to let this go, but my relief is short-lived when she makes it clear she’s already hatching plans.

“We could at least start asking around, you know? See if anyone knows anything. There’s gotta be rumors about where the bodies are.”

“Jaz,” Connor sighs.

“You heard what Ben White said—they want closure. Well, I’m in the closure market now.” She smiles smugly. “For a million dollars, I’ll give ’em all the closure they want.”

We meet Maggie outside her real estate office on Main Street and catch a ride home with her.

At the house, Jasmine wastes no time opening her laptop to conduct “research,” so I sit in the dining room with Connor and we finish our homework out there.

Like me, he has no interest in joining Jasmine’s body hunt, although I’m sure our reasons are very different.

After dinner, I decide to take a walk, brushing off Dan’s offer to join me. I need to be alone. Living in a house full of people is not conducive to my solitary ways.

The walk doesn’t help clear my head like I hoped it would, and an hour later I push open the mudroom door and kick off my shoes.

My mind’s still racing with everything that was said at the press conference. One million dollars. They deserve to be found. The words are stuck on repeat in my brain, mixing with the awful truths that I’ve been trying to bury for so long.

I hear voices coming from the living room—Jasmine’s laugh, along with someone else’s I don’t recognize. I walk through the hallway, past all the family pictures of the Shipleys, and stop at the edge of the room.

“Finally!” Jasmine says, spotting me in the doorway. “Look who finally decided to come back.”

I lift a brow. “I didn’t realize you were waiting for me.”

“Well, we were. Nikki came over to meet you. She wasn’t at school today.”

I step deeper into the room and catch sight of the other girl. She’s sprawled out on the couch, legs crossed, looking like she owns the place. Her dark hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she wears a smirk that makes me uneasy.

“So you’re Ryan,” she says.

“Yep.”

“She’s already met your brother,” Jasmine tells her friend. “Like, within five seconds of getting to Starling.”

“Ev gets around,” Nikki drawls before lowering her gaze to her phone. Her fingernails tap against the screen. They’re bright red and pointy.

“Hey, Ry, grab me a Coke?” The request comes from Connor, who sits in the armchair, his usual relaxed self, with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. He’s fiddling with a video game controller.

“Um, sure.” I guess I’m Ry now.

As I turn toward the kitchen, Jasmine surprises me by hopping off the couch and joining me. “I want snacks,” she announces. She glances over her shoulder. “Nik, you want anything?”

“Nah.”

When we’re alone in the kitchen, my cousin grabs my arm before I can open the fridge. “Don’t say anything about the reward,” she whispers in my ear.

I wrinkle my forehead at her. “Huh?”

“The million-dollar reward. Don’t say anything about it in front of Nikki.”

“Why not?” I can’t hide my amusement. Jasmine doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who keeps secrets from her friends.

“Because I don’t want her to know. This is a family mission.”

I tip my head. “Is it? Did Connor agree to help you?”

“Of course he did. Con does whatever I tell him.”

I grab a Coke for my cousin and a glass of water for myself, while Jasmine pillages the pantry for a bag of chips.

“Jazzy!” Maggie’s muffled shout comes from the direction of the home office she shares with her husband. “C’mere a minute.”

“Ugh.” Jasmine thrusts the chips at me. “Be right back.”

When I return to the living room, I instantly feel Nikki’s eyes on me. I hand Connor the soda can and chips, then stand in the doorway sipping my water.

“Oh my God, sit,” Nikki orders.

After a beat of hesitation, I sink onto the edge of the couch, keeping as much space between us as possible.

“So what’d my brother say to you?” She’s still scrolling through her phone, those long nails making clicking sounds, but she glances up with a sly smile that puts me on edge.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you get the Mr. Perfect act? The aw-shucks smile?”

I blink, unsure of what to say. Everett seemed genuine enough. Cocky, but genuine.

“Yeah,” she continues, “Everett loves putting on that whole ‘golden boy’ routine—charming, polite, helpful. Everyone falls for it. I bet you’ll fall for it.”

“And you think it’s an act?” I finally find my voice.

“It’s exhausting, that’s what it is.” Nikki swings her legs off the couch and sits up. “Trust me, I’ve lived with it my whole life. It’s exhausting watching someone pretend to be flawless all the time. I say, embrace the flaws.”

I shift uncomfortably. The jealous little sister syndrome in this one is strong.

“Perfect’s no fun. It’s boring, right, Con?” she calls toward my cousin.

He doesn’t take his gaze off his video game. “Sure, Nik. Whatever you say.”

There’s something in the way she looks at me now, like she’s daring me to agree with her. I cross my arms, feeling defensive even though I don’t want to be. “I don’t know. I don’t think being a good person is boring.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “You gotta loosen up your cousin, Con. She’s too tense.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Or you could quit grilling someone you’ve known for, like, five seconds.”

Nikki shrugs, unbothered, then hops to her feet. “I’m gonna go find Jazzy.”

Once she’s gone, Connor glances over with a faint smile. “Ignore her. She’s mostly harmless. She just likes pushing people’s buttons.”

“Mostly harmless doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Nah, we’ve known her forever. She likes to act tough, but she’s all talk. Trust me.”

“Okay,” I say, even as it’s becoming glaringly obvious that I can’t trust a single person in Starling.