Beneath Her Skin, Gregg Olsen [ereader with android .txt] 📗

faint, downy, and blonde. It was lunchtime, or maybe dinner.

“That’s Hayley on the right. Taylor’s on the left,” she said, touching the screen to indicate which girl was sitting in which blue high chair. Savannah was on the video too, looking quite lovely with dark hair and no wrinkles.

“Look at what they are doing,” Savannah said, her eyes fixed on Moira.

“Eating pasta?” Moira leaned closer, but she still didn’t see what could possibly be the big deal.

Savannah pointed to the screen. “See how Taylor is reaching into her sister’s bowl and looking at the camera?”

“Yes, I see it. But I think if I had a twin sister I’d be battling her for more food all the time.” Moira was surprised by her disclosure because it was so very, very true.

“Hang on,” Savannah said. “It was a lot easier to see when I was in the room. I zoomed in. Watch now.”

Someone nudged the camera and it went a little blurry before being refocused.

The girls were eating alphabet pasta in a light tomato sauce. Both were looking at the camera as it panned down to the tray in front of Hayley.

Moira looked up, her eyes wide as she took it all in. “It has to be some kind of trick,” she said.

Savannah turned off the VCR and faced Moira. She was expressionless now. She’d shared something that had traveled from place to place with her wherever she went. It was a tape that she’d watched countless times. It was something she considered both wonderful and frightening.

“It wasn’t and it isn’t,” she said, her eyes landing above the TV.

Moira looked up at several photographs. They were pictures of Savannah when she was younger, maybe the same age Moira was right then—early twenties. The girl next to Savannah was blonde and blue-eyed.

“Is that… ?” she asked.

Tears came to Savannah’s eyes. Just the mention of her sister brought back a stabbing pain.

“My sister, Serena. Yes, that’s her.”

“What… what happened to her?”

Savannah shook her head. She wasn’t going to go there right then. She didn’t think she had to. “You already know, don’t you, Moira?”

Moira stood. She felt the air suck right out of the log house. It seemed to happen so fast. All of a sudden she felt like she was going to faint. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“Does anyone know about this?” she asked.

Savannah pushed PLAY on the recorder again and the old machine clunked into action.

“You mean does anyone else know about it?” she asked.

A second or two passed and a fourteen-years-younger Valerie Ryan came into view.

“That’s the mother,” Savannah said. “Valerie Ryan.”

Moira knew that already. She’d seen her at the pizza place in Poulsbo, but she didn’t say so. “I see,” she said.

On the screen, Valerie picked up the plastic pasta bowls and paused, her eyes meeting the camera fleetingly. As she moved the bowls to take them to the kitchen, she dragged Hayley’s across the tray, leaving a red smear and a clump of pasta.

Moira had seen enough. Her heart was pounding. Hard. She started to leave, fumbling for her purse, her car keys.

“I quit the university after it happened,” Savannah said.

Moira knew that the it referred to what happened to Serena, not the message on the tray.

“You won’t write about this, will you?”

“Are you serious? If this is real, this changes everything.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by everything, but, yes, it is real. But you can’t write about it.”

Moira didn’t even answer Savannah as she started for the door. She felt scared and elated at the same time. Her info was true. She hadn’t believed the source at the time, but Savannah Osteen had confirmed it. She was onto something big—bigger and far more dangerous than she really knew.

Chapter Forty-One

Hayley and Colton were sharing a Portobello sandwich—her favorite—at the Port Gamble General Store after school. They’d been talking nonstop about missing Hedda and Taylor’s jealousy over the time they spent together. But mostly about Starla, what was on Katelyn’s computer and who had sent her the messages. Before Katelyn died, they’d have talked about going to a movie in Silverdale, what they were reading, the merits of the Like It size at Cold Stone or the latest lame musical trend.

Important stuff? No. Such topics, however, fueled the kind of conversation that allowed them to be critical, even snarky, about things that weren’t really important to anyone.

All of that changed when Katelyn Berkley was espressoed to death in her bathroom.

When Hayley’s phone buzzed, she reflexively reached for it.

It was a text message. Her eyes widened and she spun her phone around so Colton could read it.

Beth: Jake got fired from Bellevue schools 4 what he did w/a kid. Wz asking abt Starla’s family & heard it from some1 who told some1 else whose dad used 2 work w/him.

“Holy crap!” Colton’s eyes darted back to Hayley’s.

“No kidding,” she said.

Hayley remembered Starla once saying that Jake was a janitor before he became her mother’s personal handyman.

“What did Jake do with a student?” Colton asked.

“I have no idea,” she said.

“Something disgusting, probably. Guy’s a total creep.”

“I’m going to find out what Jake did,” Hayley said. “Google the number for the Bellevue School District.”

Bellevue was a suburb east of Seattle that was known for its gargantuan mall and an endless stream of luxury cars. It was also Jake’s home before he slithered over to Port Gamble.

“Done,” Colton said, pulling it up on his phone. “But they can’t tell you anything about a fired employee.”

Hayley dialed the number and was quickly routed through to the human resources department. A woman with a chirpy voice who identified herself as Karen took the call.

“My name is Brenda Monson,” Hayley said, turning away from the din of the restaurant and facing the mill through the window. “I’m doing an employment backgrounder on a former district employee.”

“Name?”

“Jake Damon, D-A-M-O-N.”

“Hold on,” Karen said, typing his name into a computer. “Yes, he worked here.”

So far so good.

“Can you tell me the circumstances of his departure?”

“I’m sorry, we’re not able