In the nightmares I had when I finally realized she was gone, I could see fine crescent echoes of fingernails on her smudged and caved-in neck. But the truth is there were no fingernail marks, because the Magpie Man was careful not to leave DNA, only fabric from the kind of cheap black gloves you can buy at any store.

After he strangled her, he carved the number 1 into her chest. Then he went home.

He has done it twelve more times since then.

What if the thing the newsreader isn’t telling us, that the police aren’t revealing, is that the monster has killed again?

Chapter 81

He carved the number 14 into her chest. The news leaks online, and by the end of the day, it’s everywhere.

My notifications intensify, and my face is all over the news because of the show. I’ve learned to avoid the comment sections.

Danny texts, asking if I’m okay, and I type at least twenty different replies before settling on: Not really.

Hanna and Emily come over, and although I don’t want to leave the house, they won’t take no for an answer.

Outside, Sara has been joined by an army of professional shouters and expert elbow shovers, all of them desperate for a comment from the girl who woke up a nightmare.

Emily’s mom is waiting in the car, and she smiles at me in the mirror but doesn’t speak. They’ve planned this, and I’m grateful for my friends.

We drive to Harmony, and Hanna bangs on the window of the ice-cream parlor until her dad waves his arms from inside.

“I’m coming!” he yells. Then, almost in a whisper, he says, “Hello, Jessica.”

I’m not used to him being quiet. But sympathy changes people.

We sit by the window, and Hanna’s mom brings us three giant hot chocolates, rubbing my shoulder as she leaves.

My two best friends smile at me, but I can’t smile back. When I try, it cracks at the edges and makes me want to cry.

He usually kills every nine months, but not this time. Is it my fault that he has struck early? Is he rattled or happy to play the game?

Hanna picks up my phone and says, “This is a weapon of mass destruction. You’ll make yourself paranoid reading all the hate on here.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Hanna exchanges a look with Emily. “Yes, Jess. It is fucking terrible. They’re saying it’s your fault.”

“I didn’t want him to kill again,” I whisper.

I wanted the whole world to remember how dangerous he is, to be watching for the slightest clue from the people they love or the people they have always suspected. I wanted my story to be everywhere you looked. But I didn’t want this.