Chapter 39 - The spiral

Chapter 39 - The spiral

CLAIRE

By now, I knew the road to the Brody farmhouse like the back of my hand. The turns, the dips, the way the forest swallowed the light the deeper you went. It no longer felt like a maze to me now

Funny. The first time I came here, my heart had been pounding for all the wrong reasons trying to convince Lila to talk about Mason. The second time, it had been a race against time and blood. Now… it was quiet. Almost peaceful.

Almost.

The forests were quiet in that strange way Grayhaven always carried. And sometimes, that eerie familiarity was the only kind of safety this town ever offered,the comfort of knowing the danger you’d already met.

My phone buzzed against the passenger seat.
It was an unknown number.

I frowned. Nobody ever called me anymore,not from numbers I didn’t recognize. For a second, I considered answering, but something about it made my skin prickle. So, I let it ring until it died out.

A few minutes later, the house came into view. And I slowed to a stop at the edge of the trees.

The Brody farmhouse stood there like it always had, but smaller somehow. The paint had completely peeled away and Weeds had claimed the yard completely crawling through the fence and spilling over the porch steps.

It didn’t just look abandoned this time. It felt forgotten.

I stepped out of the car, pulling my bag over my shoulder. I took a long breath, staring at the house that had seen too much.

“Let’s get this over with,” I muttered.

The front door creaked when I pushed it open. Dust floated in and the air had that closed-in smell of a place that hadn’t been lived in.

Only this time, it wasn’t just dust. Drawers had been ripped open, furniture overturned. Someone had torn through the place like they were searching for something.

I froze for a moment, scanning the chaos. The same photo frame on the mantle caught my eye the one of Mason and Lila as kids, grinning at the camera with their mother behind them. It was still there. A little broken but untouched.

“Guess he didn’t need memories,” I whispered.

I bent down picking up a few fallen books and setting them back on the table, though it didn’t make much difference. There was no saving the mess.

Upstairs, the air was colder As I made my way down the hall to Lila’s room. The door hung slightly open. I pushed it with my fingertips.

The smell hit me first - old blood. The dark stains were still there. The window where the masked man had escaped was still the same.

I stood there for a while. The image of that night replayed Lila’s scream, the crash, the blur of movement in the dark.

It felt wrong standing here without the chaos.

I took a slow breath and finally let my eyes move around the room. It was smaller than I remembered. The shelves were lined with plush toys, a few family photos, and postcards. A poster half-peeled off the wall read “Dream Big” in faded gold.

For the first time, I really saw it the kind of space a twenty-year-old made when she still believed home could keep her safe.

I spotted a medium tote sized bag in the corner. It would do. I opened Lila’s closet brushing away cobwebs, and began to pack quietly some clothes some body care items she owned,along with a few framed photos of her and her family.

Then, without really thinking, I reached for a tiny plush fox sitting on her bed and tucked it gently on top. It felt right.

When I was done, I slung the bag over my shoulder and stepped into the hall. There were six doors up here, most closed tight. But one at the very end stood slightly ajar.

Something about it pulled at me. My gut told me before my brain caught up. It was Mason’s room, maybe.

I hesitated fingers brushing the edge of the doorframe. Then I pushed it open.

The room caught me off guard.

Unlike Lila’s bright cozy space, Mason’s room felt dark and heavy. The curtains were half closed, letting Everything was darker navy sheets,curtains, old black band posters peeling off the walls. Mason didn't seem to like color.

Pinned above the desk were scraps of old receipts, repair slips, and fishing licenses, dates running back years. Lila had mentioned been doing everything he could to keep them afloat. Odd jobs, long nights. And It was very obvious now.

I let out a slow breath. Lila and Mason were twins, but so different. With the little I knew of Lila she was hopeful , while he’d grown up hard, fighting to survive.

Still, it was clear how much he cared for her. You could see it in the small things. Like a drawing pinned to the wall showed a girl standing on a pier Lila. Beside it, in his rough handwriting, he’d written: Don’t forget to keep swimming.

It made my chest ache.

My chest tightened.Because I could still see him how I’d found him.

His body spread over the jagged edges and his limbs twisted unnaturally. Clothes shredded, soaked and seaweed tangled around his arms and legs. I blinked hard forcing the image away.

He wasn’t just a case or another loss. He’d been someone with laughter once, probably with calloused hands and a twin sister who probably came in here daily just to feel close to him again. The thought made my chest ache.

I turned toward the hallway, ready to leave, when something stopped me. I heard the sound of metal rattling against wood. I frowned, stepping back into the room. The sound had come from near the bed.

Crouching, I peered underneath. Nothing but dust, an old shoe, and a fishing reel. Then I noticed the loose strip of fabric hanging from the underside of the bed frame. I tugged at it lightly, and a wooden panel shifted. It was hidden.

I hesitated then I pried it open.

Inside was a narrow opening barely wide enough for my hand. A leather book rested inside. The cover was rough to the touch and it was completely carved with those same spirals. The same ones that had haunted this investigation and the symbol burned into the mask of the attacker .

My stomach turned cold.

Beneath the book lay a folded envelope, And In Mason’s handwriting, there was one word: Lila.

Beside it, a small velvet pouch. I opened it carefully. Inside was a silver locket, tarnished from age. Four faces stared back at me Mason and Lila as children, their mother smiling faintly behind them… and a man’s arm around her shoulders. Their father.

My throat tightened. Whatever Mason had hidden here, he’d meant for Lila to find it maybe as a message, maybe as a goodbye.

I closed the locket carefully, and slipped it and the envelope into my bag.

I stood in the doorway, taking one last look at the room at the pieces of his life frozen in place, waiting for someone who’d never return.

“Rest easy, Mason,” I whispered“I’ll make sure she gets it… and I’ll find out what really happened.”