The Girl From the Woods
36
"What are you talking about?" Brandt asked, his tone skeptical.
"Here," I said, handing him the pen.
He gripped it, began to write, then stopped. He looked at me. "Quinn." His voice was low. "What did you do?" His expression seemed to change then, became somewhat relaxed; his eyes glazed over slightly, and his body stiffened.
"I'm showing you Rachel's final moments," I told him.
Then his eyes shut, and I remembered what I saw.
Her eyes fell on the boy beside her. He handed her a cup of liquor, told her his name was Victor. Then he smiled.
He told her to run.
Branches cut her face as she ran. The night was quiet, except for his voice, calling her name. He said he wouldn't hurt her, but she knew he was lying.
Rachel fell, into the mud, on her wrist. Pain raced up her limb, but she picked herself up and kept going. Gasping, she stopped, grabbed a tree for support, and closed her eyes.
A hand pressed down on her shoulder, and she screamed.
"No," he whispered against her back as he pulled her close. "Good girls don't make noise." He brushed his lips along her ear.
When the knife plunged into her body, she jerked and cried out weakly. Her knees buckled, but he held her still. And drove the knife in again. Over and over, until she stopped struggling. Until she stopped breathing.
And then he let her crumble to the wet earth, and disappeared into the trees.
"What the hell was that?" Detective Brandt ground out. He blinked a few times, presumably trying to clear his head and erase what he'd seen. "Quinn?"
"Rachel showed it to me," I answered calmly. "Now you know the person who killed her wasn't me, like I've been telling you all along."
"That was awful," he said. "But I still don't understand how she managed to crawl all the way from the woods to your back deck."
"She wasn't ready to die yet," I replied. "She wants you to find him, Detective. She needs peace; her family needs justice for what was done to her. And I'd like it if you cleared my name so I could live a normal life."
Brandt rubbed his temples, looking disoriented. "I'll do everything I can to find the bastard who did this."
"I hope you do."
"Here," I said, handing him the pen.
He gripped it, began to write, then stopped. He looked at me. "Quinn." His voice was low. "What did you do?" His expression seemed to change then, became somewhat relaxed; his eyes glazed over slightly, and his body stiffened.
"I'm showing you Rachel's final moments," I told him.
Then his eyes shut, and I remembered what I saw.
Her eyes fell on the boy beside her. He handed her a cup of liquor, told her his name was Victor. Then he smiled.
He told her to run.
Branches cut her face as she ran. The night was quiet, except for his voice, calling her name. He said he wouldn't hurt her, but she knew he was lying.
Rachel fell, into the mud, on her wrist. Pain raced up her limb, but she picked herself up and kept going. Gasping, she stopped, grabbed a tree for support, and closed her eyes.
A hand pressed down on her shoulder, and she screamed.
"No," he whispered against her back as he pulled her close. "Good girls don't make noise." He brushed his lips along her ear.
When the knife plunged into her body, she jerked and cried out weakly. Her knees buckled, but he held her still. And drove the knife in again. Over and over, until she stopped struggling. Until she stopped breathing.
And then he let her crumble to the wet earth, and disappeared into the trees.
"What the hell was that?" Detective Brandt ground out. He blinked a few times, presumably trying to clear his head and erase what he'd seen. "Quinn?"
"Rachel showed it to me," I answered calmly. "Now you know the person who killed her wasn't me, like I've been telling you all along."
"That was awful," he said. "But I still don't understand how she managed to crawl all the way from the woods to your back deck."
"She wasn't ready to die yet," I replied. "She wants you to find him, Detective. She needs peace; her family needs justice for what was done to her. And I'd like it if you cleared my name so I could live a normal life."
Brandt rubbed his temples, looking disoriented. "I'll do everything I can to find the bastard who did this."
"I hope you do."