Chapter 2 #2
“You don't understand what it's like. My mother will spend the entire weekend asking me when I'm going to settle down, have children, or move back to Illinois.
My father will make passive-aggressive comments about my 'little podcast hobby' and ask if I've considered teaching again, since it's a 'more stable career path for a woman. They’ll compare me to Celia and, of course, to Rob, the golden child who can do no wrong.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling chilled despite the warmth of the kitchen. Was it terrible that she was hoping for a bout of pneumonia or maybe getting hit by a taxi so she’d have a good excuse not to go?
Something flickered in Amy's eyes, a mixture of sympathy and frustration Kelly had seen before.
"Tell them to pound sand. Seriously, fuck 'em, Kelly. Celia is a suck-up, and your brother. Shit, I don’t even have the vocabulary for that pompous little prick. He’s a man-child, and I feel sorry for his wife and kids.
How your parents overlook all of his issues, I have no idea. He’s a walking red flag.”
Kelly simply shook her head at Amy's bluntness. Her roommate's family dynamics were completely different from her own. Amy's parents treated her like a treasured adult, not an eternal disappointment.
"It's not that simple," Kelly protested. "They're my parents, and they’re a little old-fashioned. I love them."
Most of the time. But she didn’t always like them very much.
"Old-fashioned is using cloth napkins at dinner," Amy countered. "Your parents are mean, opinionated, and they play favorites between their kids. That's not old-fashioned. That's just crappy. I’m sorry to say it, and I know how I sound right now, but honey, we don’t want them to hurt you again."
Too late.
Kelly took in a shaky breath before she replied.
“They're the only parents I have."
The resignation in her own voice made her wince. When had she accepted that this was just how things were? That this was all she deserved? Looking back, it had been years ago, to be honest.
She stared down at the counter, absently tracing a pattern in a droplet of spilled coffee. Her shoulders had hunched forward, her body physically curling in on itself as if to protect her heart from the truth of her roommates' words.
"I know you love them," Amy said, her voice softening. "But love shouldn't come with conditions. Parents are supposed to support their kids, not tear them down."
Kelly nodded mutely, unwilling to open her mouth for fear of what might come out. Maybe a sob. Maybe decades of bottled frustration. Neither option seemed appropriate at the moment.
The truth was, Kelly couldn't remember the last time her parents had praised her for anything.
Her podcast about cold cases? "Not a real job."
Her apartment in New York? "Throwing money away on rent."
Her college achievements? "If only you'd applied yourself more.”
They seemed to delight in criticizing her life choices, from her hairstyle to her career to her boyfriends.
"It won’t be so bad this time," Kelly said, without much conviction. "It's Celia's wedding. Everyone will be focused on her."
Her friends didn’t believe that for a second, and neither did she. But damn, she almost sounded like it might be true. Perhaps if she wished hard enough…
And I find a four-leaf clover, and a unicorn flies through the air on a rainbow.
"We should probably get going," Amy said, glancing at her watch. "The movie starts in forty minutes, and you know how Dina is about missing the previews."
"They're the best part!" Dina protested, already gathering her purse and jacket.
Kelly remained seated, shaking her head when they asked again if she wanted to join. They’d been pestering her all week about it, but all she wanted was some quiet time to herself.
"I've got some work to catch up on. You guys go ahead."
"We'll bring you back some Junior Mints," Amy promised. “And SnoCaps. We’ll bring those, too.”
Sugar and chocolate could never be wrong.
"Text if you change your mind," Dina added. "We can always catch the later showing."
Kelly smiled and nodded, but they all knew she wouldn't. Kelly was determined to get some work done.
The front door closed behind her roommates with a soft click, leaving her alone in the suddenly quiet apartment. Without Amy's laughter and Dina's gentle teasing, the space felt emptier, the silence highlighting the intrusive thoughts she had been trying to avoid.
But could never get away from.
Kelly sat at the kitchen island for several minutes after the door closed, listening to the apartment settle into silence.
She traced the rim of her empty mug with one finger, the conversation about her family still echoing in her mind.
Her roommates weren't wrong about her parents, but understanding a problem and fixing it were two very different things.
With a sigh, she pushed away from the counter and headed down the hallway to her bedroom, which doubled as her home office and recording studio. She had work to do. Real work, not the hobby her father dismissed with such casual cruelty.
A single desk lamp cast a pool of warm light across her recording equipment, a professional-grade microphone on a swing arm, headphones hanging from a hook, and the sleek laptop she used for editing.
The walls were covered with corkboards that not only muffled sounds but were also filled with notes, timelines, and photographs connected by colored string.
To an outsider, it might have appeared to be the work of someone unhinged.
To Kelly, it was organized chaos, each pin and string a deliberate connection in cases that had gone cold.
Her podcast, “Buried Cases,” had a modest but dedicated following.
She received dozens of emails weekly from listeners suggesting cases or offering information.
Sometimes, rarely, those tips led somewhere useful.
Usually, they were well-intentioned but ultimately unhelpful.
Kelly didn't mind. Each message represented someone else who cared about justice delayed.
She settled into her desk chair, the familiar creak of its springs a comforting sound in the quiet room.
For a moment, she considered opening her laptop and beginning work on her next episode script.
Instead, her hand moved involuntarily to the bottom desk drawer, hesitating just briefly before pulling it open.
She knew better, but now that her trip home was coming up, it was all she could think about.
The folder inside was worn at the edges, its once-crisp manila surface softened by years of handling. Unlike her other case files, which were neatly labeled and color-coded, this one bore no external markings. It didn't need any. Kelly knew exactly what it contained.
She lifted it carefully, as though it might crumble in her hands, and placed it on her desk. The weight of it seemed disproportionate to its physical size, heavy with memories and unanswered questions that had haunted her for more than a decade.
For a moment, she just stared at the closed folder, gathering her courage. Then, with a deep breath, she opened it.
Inside were the artifacts of a life cut short.
Newspaper clippings, yellowed with age. Notes scribbled in Kelly's own handwriting, added over the years as she’d revisited the case.
Photographs, some official, others personal.
A map of Bergen, Illinois, with locations marked in red.
A list of names that Kelly had memorized long ago.
On top was a group photo of the Bergen High cheerleading squad from Kelly's senior year.
Eight girls in identical uniforms, their faces bright with youth and confidence.
Kelly's gaze found her younger self immediately, with longer hair, a happy smile, and eyes unclouded by the knowledge of what was to come. She looked so innocent. They all did.
Her finger moved across the glossy surface, coming to rest on the face of a beautiful blonde girl in the center of the front row. Lori Powell. Homecoming queen. Prom queen. Sweet Corn Festival queen. The unofficial princess of Bergen, Illinois.
They’d been the best of friends. Like sisters.
"I'm not giving up on you," Kelly whispered, her voice unexpectedly loud in the quiet room.
She remembered how Lori had laughed, her head thrown back, no concern for how she looked or sounded. How she'd insisted on splitting her French fries with Kelly when Kelly forgot her lunch money. How she'd loaned Kelly her favorite sweater for a date, saying it brought good luck.
It had, too.
How she'd promised to meet Kelly at the mall that Saturday in October, but never showed.
Kelly's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath the skin as she fought to control the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. Her breathing slowed, deliberately measured, a technique she'd learned years ago to manage the panic that sometimes accompanied these sessions with Lori's file.
Behind the cheerleading photo was a copy of the autopsy report.
Kelly couldn't bring herself to look at it again today.
She knew what it said. Knew the clinical description of handprints around Lori's neck.
The defensive wounds on her hands. The time of death, estimated between 2 and 4 PM, was when she should have been trying on clothes with Kelly and their other friends at the mall for the upcoming Homecoming Dance.
Kelly's fingers curled into fists on the desktop, her nails digging into her palms, the small pain grounding her in the present. She forced herself to breathe evenly, in through her nose, out through her mouth.
It wasn't just any cold case. It was the cold case. The original.
It was her first. This was the reason she'd started the podcast, the reason she'd left teaching to pursue this full-time. The reason she sometimes woke gasping from nightmares was that she imagined what Lori's final moments must have been like.
The police investigation had gone nowhere.
There had been suspects. There was Lori's boyfriend at the time, a teacher who'd shown inappropriate interest, even a drifter passing through town.
But nothing solid, nothing that led to an arrest. The case had gone cold within weeks, filed away with promises to revisit that never materialized.
The small town had moved on with uncomfortable speed, eager to forget the darkness that had briefly touched their idyllic community.
They stopped saying Lori's name. They took down her photos from the school trophy case.
They pretended it hadn't happened, or, worse, suggested that perhaps Lori had somehow invited danger through her beauty, her popularity, or her very existence.
Kelly couldn't forget. Wouldn't forget.
She carefully closed the folder, her movements deliberate and controlled.
The file went back into the drawer, but never far from her thoughts.
Very soon, she would be back in Bergen for Celia's wedding.
Her family obligations would take precedence, but Kelly had no intention of wasting the opportunity to be in her hometown.
She would visit places. Ask questions. Perhaps find someone who remembered something they hadn't thought to share before.
Kelly turned to her computer and opened a new document.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for just a moment before she began to type, a list of people she needed to speak with in Bergen.
Whatever her parents thought of her career, however much they dismissed her work, this wasn't just a hobby or a podcast. This was a promise to a friend.
A promise she intended to keep, no matter what it cost her.