Chapter 14
Once home, Naomi heads straight for her laptop, not even taking a break to eat.
She’s too fixated on getting answers to bother with anything else.
So she dives back into her research, choosing to focus first on the Bill Lever connection and the serial killer angle.
Bobby seemed to think the idea was ludicrous, but Naomi isn’t so sure.
Two days ago, she thought the idea of Harlow murdering anyone was ludicrous, but she’s since been accused of murdering two people—so why not three?
Naomi reads the comments on the video by the TikToker who presented the theory in the first place, fascinated once again by how polarizing the star is.
So many people in the comments seem to loathe Harlow.
And sure, if she is a murderer, maybe she deserves it, but as Naomi stumbles across the Harlow Hayes hate-train, sifting through tons of articles, videos, and social media posts full of disdain for the star, she can’t help but feel it’s all a bit unfair.
Harlow Hayes is a talentless industry plant
Harlow Hayes makes a mockery of the music industry
Don’t let your children listen to Harlow Hayes
The devil in disguise: Harlow Hayes and the evil elite
Ten reasons why Harlow Hayes deserves none of her success
Harlow Hayes’ worst looks
A thread on Harlow Hayes’ cringiest lyrics
Why the world would be better off without Harlow Hayes
And those were the tame titles. Naomi can’t believe how incredibly mean some people are. She can’t fathom how someone could emotionally cope knowing people have so much contempt for them for just existing. How did Harlow deal with it all? Maybe she didn’t and it’s one of the reasons she snapped…
But then she recalls Bobby’s words. The songs she wrote tended to be very sad. Not angry. That’s why I was so shocked when I heard the news. If anything, I worried she’d try to harm herself. Not someone else.
One second, Naomi is sure Harlow is a cold-blooded killer. And the next, she’s feeling sorry for her. Either way, Harlow is all she can think about, and it makes Naomi want to rip her hair out. It’s maddening.
Feeling like her brain is about to short-circuit, she decides she needs to get out. Do something. Something that will help her get closer to the truth. As she looks around the apartment, she knows just the thing.
*
Naomi returns from her errand an hour later with red string, a giant pack of thumbtacks, five-packs of Post-it notes, painter’s tape, and some ink for Joel’s printer.
For the past week, thousands of thoughts and data points have been swirling around her mind, multiplying at an uncontrollable rate.
And while she’s been keeping track of them in Excel and Word, she needs a better way to organize them, a way in which she can lay her thoughts and theories out in front of her, alongside the facts.
First, she prints out photos of all the relevant people, along with any relevant articles, scanning her spreadsheets and lists for starred content to refer back to.
Then she moves the couch out of the way and rolls up the rug, so she can lay everything out on the floor, but it’s not working.
The papers slip out of place every time she moves something.
She needs a bigger space, a spot where she can step back and assess.
She stares up at the rectangular wall, where a huge canvas painting hangs.
It’s a modern piece, with streaks and splotches of different shades of red and black strewn across it.
Naomi doesn’t understand art. This looks like a crime scene to her.
She has a much better use for the space.
She’ll just carefully tape up all her documents instead of thumb-tacking them.
Joel will never even know. She carefully lifts the piece off the wall, holding her breath until she safely places it down in front of the TV.
She picks up Harlow’s photo from her pile of papers and tapes it to the center of the wall, the familiar sense of unease bubbling through her as she meets the alleged killer’s stare.
Naomi continues taping various other photos and pieces of paper to the wall, connecting some by string and adding Post-its wherever necessary.
She’s in the zone, feeling lighter with each and every thought she transfers from her brain to the wall.
She keeps writing, scribbling her thoughts as fast as possible, practically feeling the paper fly out of her fingertips.
The thoughts pour out of her like a waterfall, her hand almost unable to keep pace.
She writes and tapes, writes and tapes, until finally her brain is empty.
She collapses into the couch and stares at the wall.
Instead of feeling exhausted, she’s invigorated.
Ready to finally start connecting some of the puzzle pieces.
She feels a sense of pride as she steps back to assess her creation.
A photo of Colton hangs from the top-left corner of the wall, in line with a photo of Jade in the top-right—both victims dangling above Harlow’s photo dead-center.
Articles and Post-it notes, detailing everything from their respective dates of death, relation to Harlow (or lack thereof, in Jade’s case), and other relevant information or theories surround each of their photos.
Both photos are connected to Harlow with a red string. String also connects Jade and Colton’s photos, with a Post-it with a big question mark in the middle of it.
Another line connects Colton and Harlow, with a few Post-its summarizing their relationship history.
Also surrounding Colton are notes with names, including his ex-fiancée Meghan Rhodes and those of his immediate family, plus his uncle, Senator Kenneth Scott—an uncle in politics always makes the murder board.
Similar Post-its also surround Harlow’s photo, detailing people she has or had ties to: Ex-boyfriends, rumored flings, rumored enemies, and friends.
It surprises Naomi at how little she’s found about Harlow’s current circle of friends.
She used to be seen out all the time, but in the past few years she seems to have kept to herself.
Naomi remembers her aunt claiming she completely cut her family out of her life.
In 2021, she lost Colton, then cut ties with her family and her music team—Bobby included.
One person she is still connected to, however, is manager Sam Brixton, whose photo hangs between Colton and Harlow, red string connecting the three of them. From what Naomi gathers so far, Colton introduced Harlow to Sam Brixton when they first started dating and he helped skyrocket her to fame.
To the bottom-left is a section for Machinist Records, and beneath it a list of people associated with Harlow through music, such as label head Charlie Roy, producer Bobby Park, and other producers, songwriters, dancers, and collaborators (like Mama Money) who worked with Harlow over the years.
Adjacent to this section is a photo of Bill Lever, alongside a Post-it: “Another victim of H?”
The bottom-right corner is reserved for theories and “other,” and includes a printout of the Twitter thread of Harlow’s darkest lyrics, plus any potential relevant tabloids or other fan theories she’s come across.
Naomi studies the wall, eyes darting back and forth between the various Post-its and photos. She purses her lips, wondering for one brief moment if it’s a little over-the-top. She immediately shakes her head, though. There’s nothing wrong with being thorough.
She refocuses her attention, looking for something—anything—to stand out, until she notices a connection between two of the notes.
VMAs, 12 Sept 2021: Harlow falls down stairs during performance
Jade Dutton: Last seen alive on 11 Sept 2021. Body found in Oct 2021. Death deemed overdose, but rumored to be asphyxiation (source: Leo)
The VMAs incident was the day after Jade was last seen alive.
Naomi fumbles for her phone and brings up a video of the fall, her breath catching as she sees it. She replays the video, studying the exact moment Harlow messes up. Right before the fall, her backup dancer tries a dance move that involves putting his hands around her neck.
Naomi imagines the bruises around Jade’s throat.
It doesn’t take Naomi long to find Trevor Gray, the dancer in the video—now famous in his own right as a star on Broadway.
She clicks through to his Instagram. His profile is a picture of him in the middle of a pirouette.
His body, although tiny on the screen, is the epitome of human perfection, like he’s been manufactured in a lab.
Every lean, long muscle on full display.
She taps the message button on his profile and slides straight into his DMs.
Hi Trevor! My name is Naomi Barnes. I’m doing a story for C*Leb and would like to ask you a few questions about Harlow Hayes, if you wouldn’t mind sparing some time?
Naomi adds another string to the wall, connecting Jade to the VMAs Post-it. Her heart pounds with a weird excitement as she scrawls, Was Harlow’s mis-step a reaction to her having choked Jade Dutton to death the night before? onto another note.
“Holy shit,” she says after sticking it to the wall.