Chapter 12
She moves quickly through tunnels of scaffolding before continuing to push through the crowded sidewalks lined with various illuminated shop fronts and restaurants, flickering neon signs beckoning her in.
The lingering scent of rain on the pavement mingles with the smell of barbequed meat, and her stomach rumbles.
She checks her watch, annoyed at herself for being late.
She lost track of time earlier, as she often does now—sucked down the Harlow hole, as she’s started to call it, unable to think of anything else.
Her research has only fed her new obsession, though, and the more she’s learned, the more engrossed and conflicted she’s become.
While it’s impossible to ignore the various mentions of graves and blood and death, especially across Harlow’s two most recent albums, there’s still nothing else that points to her being a vicious murderer.
No actual evidence that Naomi has seen that makes Harlow seem any more likely to kill than other musicians who write and sing about the same dark themes.
But hopefully she can get some more insider information from Leo tonight.
She follows the sound, eyes darting to and from the abundance of Korean and English advertisements, and finally sees the yellow sign for the restaurant.
“Woah, careful!” Someone yanks Naomi back to the sidewalk just as she steps out into the road. A taxi speeds past, horn blaring.
Naomi looks up at Leo, heart racing. “Shit, thanks,” she laughs nervously. “I must have spaced.”
“You scared me. I thought I’d be skipping dinner for a trip to the hospital for a second.” He tries to laugh it off, but she senses a hint of worry. He offers his arm to her. “I think you better take this, for safety reasons.”
Her face flushes red, but she smirks as she loops her arm through his.
After safely making it across the street this time, Naomi and Leo walk into the bar, which looks more like a video game than a restaurant.
The entire ceiling is lit by LED lights in the shape of a maze and the walls are lined with green hanging plants.
But better than the atmosphere is the smell of simmering sweet barbeque sizzling on hotplates as they pass smiling patrons on their way to the bar.
Leo pulls out a stool for Naomi and takes a seat next to her.
“So how’s everything going?” he asks as they wait for the bartender, currently serving a group of early-twenty-year-olds in the corner.
She turns back to Leo. “Honestly, you’ve been such a help. I really owe you.”
He nods. “Yeah, no problem. I’m kind of intrigued myself, not gonna lie.” He puts his finger to his lips. “But shhh, don’t tell anyone.”
“You’re a fan of Harlow Hayes?” She laughs.
“I didn’t say that. Even though her songs are pretty catchy.” Leo starts singing the chorus to “James Dean.”
“Oh my god, I’m not going to karaoke with you, ever.”
“What? I can sing!”
Naomi shakes her head in disagreement.
Leo smirks, eyes lingering on hers, before nodding at the bartender to make his way over. “I’ll take a Terra.” He looks over at Naomi, giving her a chance to order.
“Same,” she says, before turning to Leo. “What, no fancy wine this time?”
“Gotta have beer with Korean fried chicken.” He holds his hands out as if he had no choice and then turns back to the bartender to order the food. Naomi salivates at the thought of it.
“So how was work?” She hopes this prompts him to remember the text she sent earlier.
“Not too bad, thanks. You?”
“Interesting.” She laughs, crossing her arms. “This case isn’t straightforward, that’s for sure.”
It’s hard to believe the arraignment only happened earlier today.
With the way she’s been uncharacteristically fixated on Harlow and her alleged crimes, Naomi feels like she’s spent weeks rather than days looking into everything.
“Oh, and once again, thank you SO much for…” She lets her words trail off, not wanting to say it out loud.
“No worries, it was about to be made public within the hour anyway, so thought I’d give you a sneaky head start.”
“Well, it’s much appreciated. You didn’t happen to find out anything else, did you?”
Leo shakes his head as he takes a sip of his drink. “So I couldn’t get you anything official—only the detectives have access to the actual evidence and other official documents…” He places his beer bottle on the bar. “But I did ask around. Word is they have some type of video.”
“Video evidence?” Naomi gasps. “Do you know of what? Of who?” Naomi imagines footage of Harlow slaying Colton or Jade.
Leo shrugs apologetically. “No idea, sorry. But,” he holds a finger in the air.
“Here’s where things get interesting… One of the other cops said he was working in the Bronx when Jade’s body was found.
He said they didn’t make the connection until last week, after Colton Scott’s death.
Said it was a weird case at the time because while she clearly had needle track marks, there were also bruises around her neck… ”
Naomi raises an eyebrow. “Bruises?”
“Yeah, like she was strangled—that’s what he said, at least.” Leo nods knowingly at Naomi, whose eyes are now wide with horror. “The guy said he pushed for it to be investigated but that it never was.”
“What? That’s—” Naomi opens her mouth and closes it, fumbling over her words in disbelief. “Her family didn’t push for a full investigation?”
“Apparently not. He said he was told to stop wasting time looking into it.”
Naomi scoffs, shaking her head. If she was told Faye had strangulation bruises, she would never have let that go, pushed until she had answers and found out who hurt her and why.
But maybe they were never told, she thinks, feeling unsettled.
The thought is galvanizing and she’s even more motivated now to get answers. Not just to satiate her own curiosity, but for Jade and her family too, who no one really seems to care about.
*
Naomi tries to fall asleep but can’t, thinking of Leo and his bombshell that Jade could have been strangled—a fact that was clearly covered up.
Could sweet, fragile Harlow really have choked someone to death? Physically holding her hands around Jade’s neck until she died? It’s difficult to imagine; although, it fits with the “jealous rage” theory—still the most popular one among internet sleuths.
Naomi reaches for her phone, wanting to read some more of the fan conspiracies with this new information in mind.
As she scrolls through the Harlow Hayes hashtags on social, she views posts ranging from plausible, to unlikely, to completely ridiculous, including one from a user convinced that “Harlow is a robot who malfunctioned and killed.” There’s another one that’s also far-fetched, but Naomi can’t help but be intrigued by the prospect that “Harlow is a serial killer.”
After watching ten ridiculous videos on this theory, Naomi is about to write it off completely until she stumbles upon a user called @BobTheFlopppp.
He has a boyish face that suggests he’s in his late teens or early twenties.
His curly, unkempt hair is crying out for a barber and his pale skin is praying for some sunshine.
Appearance aside, @BobTheFlopppp makes a very convincing argument.
The crux of his theory hangs on the fact that in between the death of Jade and Colton, another one of Harlow’s enemies died under mysterious circumstances.
A third murder, which, if proven, would indeed classify Harlow as a serial killer.