━━━━━━━━┛ ♱ ┗━━━━━━━━

𝙑𝙊𝙇𝙐𝙈𝙀 𝑰.  ──────────  RUIN!

❛ an innocent      little thing. . . ❜
─── chapter two! ❫

002.  ╱    ❝ i looked around in a 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉-
𝖘𝖔𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖌𝖔𝖜𝖓, and i saw something
they can't 𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞. . . ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

TW  /   please read below :
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
implied child abuse         mentions of
blood, murder + death               heavy
references to religion  +   christianity.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

﹙ 𝕿HURSDAY ━ 𝕹OVEMBER 1ST, 1984 ﹚

     THE EARLY MORNING SUN STRUGGLED TO BREAK THROUGH THE THICK FOG THAT BLANKETED DOWNTOWN WEST LINN, CASTING AN EERIE, DIFFUSED LIGHT OVER THE BUILDINGS AND ROADS. It was Thursday, just two days after the horrific events that occurred off of Hillsborough Street, down in the woods. It was the biggest tragedy the city had seen in decades and a tragedy that shattered Carson Crest's world.

     The seven-year-old sat silently in the passenger seat of Mayor Olivia Hart's SUV, her tiny frame almost swallowed by the vehicle's plush leather interior. Not a word had come from her since yesterday when the police were at the hospital questioning her.

     Olivia glanced at Carson, her heart aching at the sight of the little girl she'd known since birth. Carson's long brown hair hung limp around her face, her brown eyes—once half-full of life—now dull and unfocused while she stared out the window. The fresh white bandage on her left hand stood out starkly against her pale skin, a cruel reminder of the abuse she denied she endured long before that night.

     As they pulled into the parking lot of the West Linn Police Station, Olivia took a deep breath. "Carson, sweetie," she said gently, "we're here. Are you ready?"

     Carson turned slowly, her face a mask of exhaustion and grief. She nodded once, a barely perceptible movement.

     Once the car was parked at the front of the parking lot and turned off, the Mayor exhaled slowly. She can do this. With a determined expression and set jaw, she grabbed her purse and exited the SUV. One foot in front of the other, she walked to the other side of the car and opened the door for Carson.

     Hand in loveable hand, they headed to the front doors of the station. The closer they got, the tighter Carson's grip was. It didn't take a genius to know she was scared.

     "I'm right here. We're doing this together, yeah?"

     Another barely perceptible nod. The grip relaxed slightly.

     Olivia's mind raced as she opened the door for Carson, letting her go inside first. Their fingers stayed overlapped. How had it come to this?

     Mary Crest had been Olivia's best friend since childhood. They'd shared dreams, inside jokes, secrets, and so much laughter. When they went to college, however, Mary became increasingly devoted to her new boyfriend's faith. Quickly, her life revolved around the church and its teachings. Cyrus Crest, her college boyfriend turned husband, had always been fervent in his beliefs and eventually moved to West Linn.

     Despite the changes and Olivia not being religious, the two stayed friends. They planned on their children being friends and them dying old together with their husbands.

     Olivia still remembered the last conversation she had with Mary, just a week before the murders. Mary had spoken about sin and redemption, her eyes bright with an almost feverish light. It was always present when she spoke about God.

     "We must purify ourselves, Livie," she had said. "We must cleanse our souls and the souls of our children, lest we be found wanting in the eyes of the Lord."

     Now, Mary and Cyrus were gone, along with their son Malcolm. The only survivor was this fragile little girl, entrusted to Olivia's care by a will neither of them ever expected to be needed.

     The irony wasn't lost on Olivia, though. Three years ago, it had been Carson who'd survived when Olivia's world had been torn apart. The car crash that claimed the lives of her husband and daughter—Brian and Cadence—had left Carson as the sole survivor. She was in the backseat with her daughter, the two of them asleep after seeing a ballet in the city when the car ran off the road. Rainstorm, broken windshield wiper, a deer in the road. The car crashed into a tree. Now, fate had cruelly reversed their roles.

     Carson was, yet again, the survivor, but now her family was gone.

     At the front desk, Detective Sara Reeves stood there, waiting to greet them. Her kind eyes filled with sympathy when she saw Carson's head bowed. If she could spare the girl from further questioning, she would but the F.B.I. was now knocking at the door. And she wanted to catch the son of a bitch who murdered Carson's family, so she was going to take all the help she could get.

     "Good morning, Mayor Hart, Carson," she greeted warmly, offering a welcoming smile. "Thank you for coming in. The F.B.I. is here and has a couple of questions for Carson. Is that okay?"

     Immediately, Olivia stood taller. "My assistant didn't notify me of the F.B.I.'s involvement or presence. Neither did you or the Captain."

     "It was last minute," Reeves quickly explained, holding a hand up. "Two field agents from the Behavioral Science Unit are here to help construct a profile of the person who..." Her eyes flashed to the silent child.

     "Is it necessary for Carson to speak with them?" Olivia asked, feeling Carson sink against the side of her leg.

     Reeves shook her head. "No, it's not. It'll help, though. She provided a brief walk-through yesterday of what occurred, but..."

     It didn't need to be said that the statement from yesterday was next to nothing. Carson was barely able to get a full sentence out, only jumbled words and the mention of the Willamette Wraith. The doctors informed the police and Olivia that she was in shock, and might be for the next few days. It was normal for children her age.

     "The agents are waiting in one of our interview rooms."

     Olivia held in a sigh. "Carson," she whispered, lowering until she was at eye level with her. Their hands were still held together. "Are you willing to answer some questions?" There was an unspoken question in Carson's eyes. "I'll be there the whole time. So will Detective Reeves, right?"

     Blinking, Reeves nodded. "Yes. We'll both be present."

     A verbal response wasn't given. Instead, Carson nodded the tiniest bit.

     In her mind, her logic was that if she forced herself to talk, people would leave her alone. All she wanted was silence yet those around her kept demanding she speak. Perhaps this would give her what she wanted.

     "Follow me."

     The group of three rounded the front desk and walked by the desks occupied by officers. As they moved, Olivia couldn't help but catch the sideways glances of pity and hushed whispers. She shot a haste glare, and people looked away.

     The murders had shocked the small city to its core, and rumors were flying. Luckily, none of them included Carson. As far as the city was aware, Carson had nothing to do with it nor was she responsible. Nonetheless, nobody believed the story of the girl who cried Willamette Wraith. People were chalking up the murders to a psychotic homeless stranger who stumbled upon the Crest home in the woods.

     Corridor after corridor, they finally reached the children's interview room. The door's outline was painted yellow, causing it to stand out in the muted police department.

     "After you."

     Carson felt a soft tug on her hand, and she blinked. Olivia stood a foot away with their arms outstretched. Behind her, Reeves held the door open. It hadn't occurred to Carson that she'd stopped walking.

     "Come on, sweetie," Olivia smiled, trying to provide the reassurance needed.

     From where she stood, Carson could see most of the room. It was small and bright, designed to be as non-threatening and soothing as possible. The window blinds were open, allowing the morning sun to debut. Colorful drawings adorned the walls. An ocean-blue couch was positioned against one wall with a stuffed teddy bear in the center. Off to the side was a table for coloring and games, four plastic chairs tucked underneath. In two of the chairs sat men she didn't recognize.

     There was another tug. This time, Carson responded and begrudgingly entered.

     The two men stood as Reeves stepped in and closed the door. Their presence was a testament to the gravity of the situation, something Carson didn't fully understand.

     A man with dark brown, almost black hair with eyes to match stepped forward with a polite smile. "I'm Agent David Rossi and this is Agent Jason Gideon. We're from the Behavioral Science Unit at the F.B.I.," Rossi said, introducing himself and his colleague. He wore a black suit with a white button-up underneath. His tie had thick brown and golden stripes on it.

     Gideon walked toward the door and crouched to Carson's level while Olivia introduced herself. His kind eyes crinkled at the corners when he offered the girl a small smile. "Are you Carson?"

     The softness in his voice put her at ease, and her hold on Olivia loosened. The man had brown curly hair that reminded her of Malcolm—a comforting thought. He wore a red flannel underneath a v-neck navy blue sweater with a tan coat on top. Carson blinked.

     "I'm Jason. It's nice to meet you." He held his hand out to her to shake and immediately, out of respect and habit, she took his hand and shook it. A textured fabric rubbed against his palm, and Jason glanced to see part of Carson's left hand covered with a bandage.

     According to the case files and Detective Reeves, Carson wasn't injured during or after the murders.

     Turning his head, he caught Rossi's eyes. Rossi noticed, too.

     "I heard you like birds," Jason mentioned, turning back to Carson and letting go of her hand.

     The comment caused her ears to perk. A flicker of interest broke through her guarded expression. She nodded almost imperceptibly but remained silent.

     Jason smiled encouragingly. "Mine's the blue jay. Want to know why?" he asked, watching her eyes search his for something. Whatever she was looking for, she seemed to find and nodded again. "They're clever and brave, just like you."

     Carson wanted to smile at the compliment, but she couldn't. Not when she knew the truth. She wasn't clever or brave. She was foolish and a coward. The remains of her family were proof.

     "Would you like to sit down?" Rossi asked, taking another step closer.

     That wasn't a question, it was more of a suggestion. At some point, she would have to sit down and she knew that. Reluctantly, she let go of Olivia's safe and violence-free hand and went to the ocean-blue couch. She jumped up and sat in the far left corner, pushing herself as far back into the cushions as she could. Her feet dangled above the floor.

     Meanwhile, Rossi shared a knowing look with Olivia and Reeves. They all understood the delicate nature of what was to come.

     "Did you sleep last night?" Rossi pulled a chair closer to the couch. Jason did the same. They took a seat.

     Silence.

     "You look a little tired," Jason observed, pointing at Carson's eyes. She only blinked. "I promise we'll be quick. That way you can leave and get some rest."

     More silence.

     This was proving to be challenging thus far.

     "Carson..." Jason began softly, leaning forward and placing his arms on his thighs. "Can you tell me what you remember about that night? What did you see when you woke up?"

     Nothing.

     Rossi stifled a sigh. The kid was likely still in shock and wouldn't answer any of their questions today.

     The interview room was quiet with the adults patiently waiting for Carson to answer in her own time. A couple of minutes passed until the stillness was broken.

     Carson's voice, when she finally spoke, was barely above a whisper. "Blood..." Her eyes filled with tears, and images of blood flowing from the prayer room played in her mind. Blinking rapidly, a tear broke free and trailed down her cheek. "Mr. Flopsy was on the floor, hurt. Bibles... There was broken glass... and water."

     At the unfamiliar name, Rossi glanced back at Olivia and Reeves for clarification.

     "Her twin brother's stuffed rabbit," Olivia whispered, and he nodded.

     "That's good, Carson," Rossi said, returning his attention to her. "But can you tell us what happened? What you saw?" His tone was kind but firm.

     Jason raised a hand, silently telling him to back off. He turned back to Carson, his voice gentle. "It's okay if you don't remember everything. Did you hear anything during the night?"

     Carson shook her head, her hands fidgeting in her lap. For a moment, she began to pick at the chipped nail polish on her fingers, but then abruptly stopped. She pulled on the sleeves of her jacket, covering her hands entirely.

     Nobody missed the action. Nobody commented on it or the bandage she wore.

     "Carson," Rossi tried again, his tone softer this time. "Was there anything strange you noticed in the days before? Anything out of the ordinary?"

     Again, she shook her head, eyes downcast. There was a pile of words on the tip of her tongue that she wanted to release, but she knew how the other women in the room would react. It would be identical to how it went at the hospital yesterday.

     Perhaps the F.B.I. would believe her.

     She looked up and darted her gaze between the adults nervously. Her small fingers curled around the edges of her sleeves. "We... we did the ritual," she rushed out, almost choking on the air leaving her. "For the Willamette Wraith. It was just a game. We didn't think..." She trailed off as her eyes filled with tears.

     The effect was immediate.

     Olivia stiffened, her features flashing with a mix of concern and frustration. Detective Reeves let out an audible sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was an innate reaction.

     At the sudden shift in the atmosphere, Jason and Rossi exchanged puzzled glances.

     "The Willamette Wraith?" Jason inquired gently, his curiosity piqued.

     Before Carson could respond, Reeves cut in, her voice tight with barely contained irritation. "It's nothing. Just a local legend. Not relevant to the case."

     Olivia shot her a warning look before pivoting to the FBI agents. "It's an old ghost story," she explained, her words carefully measured. "About a spirit that supposedly haunts the Willamette River. But it's just a tale, nothing more."

     Carson's head snapped up, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and defiance. "It's real," she insisted, her voice stronger than it had been all morning. "I saw it. Outside the front window after..." She was unable to finish the sentence. Flashes of Malcolm's contorted body played, and she choked back a sob.

     The tension in the room ratcheted up several notches. Olivia and Reeves exchanged exasperated looks, a silent conversation passing between them. Jason and Rossi locked eyes, their thoughts running parallel.

     "Sweetie..." Olivia said softly, walking to the couch. "We talked about this at the hospital, remember? The Wraith isn't real. It's just a story."

     "But I saw it!" Carson's volume rose, a hint of desperation creeping in. "Why won't you believe me?!"

     Detective Reeves stepped forward, her patience wearing thin. "Now, Carson, we've been over this. The officers and I told you there's no such thing as—"

     "Detective," Jason interrupted smoothly, his tranquil aura cutting through the mounting tension. "Perhaps we should hear Carson out. Even if it's not real, it's clearly important to her."

     Rossi nodded in agreement. "Sometimes, legends can provide valuable insights, even if they're not literal truths."

     The local officials bristled at the intervention, but neither could deny the logic. It made enough sense.

     Taking a deep breath, Olivia nodded. "Of course," she said, giving Carson an encouraging smile. "Carson, why don't you tell the agents what you saw?"

     Even though the Wraith wasn't real, the details provided likely were and could assist the investigation.

     "In the woods, where the Willamette and Tualatin rivers meet, a shadowy creature lives there. It waits to be summoned," Carson began shakily, trying to ignore the skepticism and concern surrounding her. "Those brave enough to perform the ritual will be visited at night. The Wraith sneaks inside their home through a window to see them. Some kids at school say the Wraith is a monster that will haunt and destroy your life. Well, Tommy Jean said that..."

     "So you did the ritual?" Rossi presumed, raising an eyebrow.

     Carson nodded. "Me and Malcolm," she murmured, leaving out how they ultimately did it in hopes it would protect them from Mother and Father.

     "And the Willamette Wraith killed your family?"

     "I saw it," she repeated for a third time. "T-The window in our room was open when I woke up. It climbed inside and stole Malcolm. Downstairs, i-it killed Mother and Father and hurt Mr. Flopsy. Then, after it killed Malcolm, it snuck out through the front window. I looked outside and saw it."

     Jason listened intently, his kind eyes never leaving Carson's face. He understood that in the world of trauma and fear, reality could often become distorted. Whether the Willamette Wraith was real or not, it was clear that for Carson, it represented something vital—a way to process and comprehend the unthinkable tragedy that had befallen her family.

     "What does it look like?" Jason asked, giving the girl a nod to keep going.

     Clearing her throat, Carson felt a spark of divine hope ignite in her chest. Someone believed her. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper.

     Olivia's eyebrows furrowed together. "Sweetie, what is that?"

     Everyone watched the brown-haired girl unfold the paper and smooth it out on her legs. Then, she held it up once it was flat enough to her liking.

     There, staring back at the adults, was a drawing of a black, cloaked figure. It didn't have hands or feet and floated above a patch of grass. Underneath the hood, it had a face that sent chills down everyone's spine. For a seven-year-old, Carson's drawing skills were remarkable. It was clear she spent time on the face with all the details it held.

     A jagged, uneven oval mask was drawn with black eyeholes and an agape mouth with no teeth or tongue. It was a white and grey smeared, writhing mass of shadows and mist. On each side, there were scratch marks and a few red dots. Jason and Rossi supposed those were supposed to be specs of blood.

     Behind the agents, Olivia and Detective Reeves exchanged worried glances. Their earlier frustration was giving way to a shared anxiety about where this line of questioning might lead or how fixated on this myth Carson might become. Yes, she was a child, but clinging onto a story of the make-believe could cause her further harm in the future.

     "This is who killed Malcolm," Carson said, wetting her lips. "My family."

     Reeves bit her tongue yet shot the Mayor a look that told her she needed to rectify this in some way or another. It might not be today or tomorrow, but the Mayor needed to convince Carson that the Willamette Wraith wasn't real. The real killer was out there, not this made-up creature.

     A heavy silence fell over the room. Nobody commented or replied to the girl.

     Rossi, sensing the need to redirect the conversation, cleared his throat and turned to Mayor Hart and Detective Reeves. "I'd like to ask you both a question," he said, his tone professional yet gentle, mindful of Carson's presence. "Did the Crest family have any enemies? Anyone who might have wished them harm?"

     Instantly, Olivia shook her head emphatically. "No. No, the Crests were well-respected and well-liked. Mary and Cyrus were pillars in the nearby church, always the first to volunteer for charity events or help a person in need. Mary ran the city's primary soup kitchen and homeless shelter, and Cyrus was a co-pastor and worked as an accountant. They were known for their kindness and generosity."

     Reeves nodded in agreement. "I've been over this angle thoroughly," she added. "Interviewed neighbors, colleagues, and fellow church members. Everyone speaks highly of the Crests. They were the kind of family others aspired to be."

     "Mary was my best friend since childhood," Olivia shared, staring at Carson fondly. Her eyes were covered in a thin layer of tears. Neither agent missed the look. "She had a way of touching people's lives, of making everyone feel valued. And Cyrus, for all his reserved nature, was known for his integrity and selflessness."

     "And Malcolm was well-liked at school, too," Reeves interjected, her voice softening as she glanced at Carson. "Teachers described him as a bright, quiet yet friendly boy. Popular with his classmates."

     Inhaling deeply, Rossi nodded and took in the information. "And Carson?" he asked, looking at the small girl who sat silently, her eyes fixed on her hands.

     "Just the same," Olivia said, reaching out to gently squeeze Carson's shoulder. "A sweet, bubbly child. Well-behaved and kind, also popular with her classmates."

     While the adults spoke about her family, Carson remained still with her expression unreadable. Gideon watched her closely, noting the slight tension in her shoulders, and the way her fingers curled tightly around the edges of her sleeves. Olivia's touch was gone.

     "It just doesn't make sense," Detective Reeves said with an ounce of frustration evident. "A family like the Crests... Who would want to harm them? And why?"

     The question hung in the air with an ungodly amount of weight, unanswered. The brutal reality of the Crest family's fate stood in stark contrast to the glowing picture painted by the mayor and detective. It was a paradox that deepened the mystery surrounding that tragic night, leaving everyone in the room grappling with the senselessness of it all.

     Jason and Rossi exchanged meaningful looks. They had encountered cases like this before, where the picture-perfect facade concealed deeper, darker truths. But for now, they kept those thoughts to themselves, aware of the delicate balance they needed to maintain in this case. After all, the religious fervor that had defined Mary and Cyrus Crest's lives seemed to color every aspect of their family's murder and it appeared much of the city was heavily religious as well. And as many people know, it is best to approach any religion in a gentle, respectful manner. Pointing fingers and making assumptions never did anyone any good.

     As the conversation about the Crest family's standing in the community drew to a close, Rossi shifted in his chair with his hands clasped together on his lap. He exchanged a loaded glance with Jason which earned him an almost imperceptible nod.

     Clearing his throat, Rossi turned his body. "Detective Reeves, Mayor Hart..." he began, the women's names low and measured, "Could I speak with you both privately for a moment?" His fingers drummed once, twice on the surface of his thigh before he stilled them. It was a habit he'd developed over countless interviews.

     Olivia's reaction was immediate. Her spine stiffened, the crisp lines of her tailored emerald green suit accentuating the movement. She leaned forward, one hand instinctively moving to rest on Carson's small shoulder again. The protectiveness of a mother bear radiated from her every pore. "I'm not comfortable leaving Carson alone," she objected, her voice tight with tension. Her sharp eyes locked onto Rossi's. "She's a minor, and as her guardian, I need to be present during any questioning."

     Rossi held up a placating hand, his movements slow and deliberate. "I understand your concern, Mayor," he said softly, maintaining steady eye contact with her. "But I assure you, we're not going to question Carson further right now." He gestured to Jason with his other hand. "Agent Gideon will stay with her, and we'll be right outside the door. You'll be able to see her through the window at all times."

     Jaw tightening, Olivia inhaled through her nose. She didn't know these men and didn't trust them. Too much had already happened in such a short amount of time and she knew Carson didn't want to be here. Her eyes darted between Rossi and Carson, who sat motionless, her small fingers idly tracing the edge of the bandage on her left hand. Her eyes were shadowed by exhaustion.

     The legs of Jason's chair rubbed against the carpet. His tone was warm and reassuring when he addressed Olivia. "It's okay, Mayor," he tilted his head slightly to catch her eye. "I promise you, Carson will be safe with me. We'll just talk about birds some more, won't we, Carson?"

     At the mention of birds, Carson's eyes flickered up briefly. For a moment, they met Gideon's tender gaze before dropping.

     Olivia exhaled slowly, her chest falling with the breath. Her fingers flexed on Carson's shoulder, torn between the instinct to protect and the need to cooperate. The weight of responsibility pressed on her, visible in the slump that belied her usually perfect posture. After a long moment, she nodded reluctantly, her shoulders sagging slightly. "All right," she conceded, the response barely above a whisper. "But we'll be right outside, Carson. You can see me through the window, okay?"

     Carson gave a small nod. Her expression remained unchanged with her fingers still tracing the edge of the bandage. The repetitive motion seemed to be grounding her, a coping mechanism in a world that'd suddenly become terrifyingly unpredictable.

     As Olivia joined Detective Reeves by the door, Rossi stood smoothly. He gestured with an open palm, signaling for them to go first.

     Inside the interview room, Jason shifted his chair closer to the couch. "So," he started, leaning in with his elbows resting on his knees, "have you ever seen a red-tailed hawk? I've read that they're quite common around here..."

     Outside in the hallway, Rossi led the mayor and detective a few steps away from the door. Olivia immediately positioned herself so she could keep a clear view of Carson through the window, her body angled and feet planted firmly, ready to dash back into the room at a moment's notice. Her eyes flicked rapidly between Rossi and the window, never letting Carson out of her sight for more than a few seconds.

      Reeves slid her hands into her pants pockets. "What's this about, Agent Rossi?" she asked curiously, brows furrowed deeply.

     Rossi's countenance was grave as he looked between the two local officials. He ran a hand over his goatee that'd just begun growing. "There are a few more questions I need to ask you both," he sighed, hoping his hushed but intense tone conveyed this needed to be an honest conversation. This was pertinent to the case. "And I believe it's best if Carson doesn't overhear..."

     Nodding, Olivia's eyes glimpsed to the window again where she could see Carson and Gideon talking. Detective Reeves' stance relaxed and she was prepared to answer.

     "You mentioned the Crests were pillars of the local church," he brought up, rolling back his shoulders. "Were there any recent changes in their religious practices or beliefs that you noticed?"

     Olivia's brows formed a jagged line. "Not that I recall. Mary had been committed for years and Cyrus was always devout, always preaching their faith, but I didn't notice any significant changes. Why do you ask?"

     "Sometimes, sudden religious fervor can be a sign of underlying stress," Rossi explained. "Detective Reeves, did you find any religious paraphernalia at the crime scene that seemed out of place or excessive?"

     The detective shook her head. "Aside from what was found on Cyrus and Mary—each of them holding a bible along with Mary holding a knife—nothing unusual. Just typical items and decor you'd find in a religious household."

     Rossi nodded, processing this information and noting to himself that he and Gideon needed to do a walk-through of the crime scene. He then asked, "Were there any financial troubles the family was facing? Any large debts or recent major purchases?"

     "Not that I'm aware of," Mayor Hart replied, folding her hands together. "The Crests lived comfortably, but they weren't ostentatious."

     Reeves quickly added, "We're still going through their financial records, but nothing has stood out so far."

     The next question was more delicate. "I know this might be difficult to consider, but were there any signs of marital discord between Mary and Cyrus?"

     Olivia's eyes widened, her head shaking vehemently. "Absolutely not. They were devoted to each other."

     "And the children?" Rossi pressed on. "Any issues at school? Behavioral problems?"

     "None," Detective Reeves answered firmly. "Both Carson and Malcolm were good students, well-behaved."

     Pausing for a moment, the agent's gaze intense. "What about Carson's injuries? The bandage on her hand, the bruises I read about in the case file. Have those been fully explained?"

     A rigid silence fell over the women. Olivia and Reeves exchanged a quick, uncomfortable glance.

     "The doctors at the hospital said the injuries predated the murders..." the detective said slowly, choosing her words carefully.

     Oivia's face paled. "Are you suggesting...?" She couldn't finish the sentence.

     Rossi held up a hand. "I'm not suggesting anything yet. I'm just trying to get a full picture." He looked at both of them seriously. "Is there anything else, anything at all, that might be relevant? Even if it seems insignificant?"

     Each of them appeared deep in thought, the weight of the question hanging heavily in the air. A few seconds ticked by.

     "There is one thing," Detective Reeves said hesitantly, her weathered face creasing with uncertainty. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, a habit she'd developed over years of delivering difficult news. "It's probably nothing, but..."

     Rossi crossed his arms, his dark eyes intent. "Go on, Detective. At this stage, every detail could be important." His words were encouraging but carried an undercurrent of urgency.

     Reeves rubbed the back of her neck and a faint sheen of sweat formed on her forehead. "About a week before the murders, I got a call from Cyrus Crest. He seemed agitated."

     "Cyrus called you?" Mayor Hart's eyes widened, the crow's feet at their corners deepening with surprise. Her perfectly manicured nails dug slightly into her palms. "He never mentioned that to me." A hint of hurt crept into her voice.

     "What did he say?" Rossi asked, disregarding the mayor's comments.

     "He asked about increasing patrols near his house," the detective replied, her words coming faster now. "Said he'd seen some suspicious activity in the woods. When I asked for details, he said it was probably nothing, but he'd feel better with more police presence." Her hand moved to her belt, fingers tapping against her badge—a nervous tic she'd never managed to shake.

     Interesting.

     Rossi's eyebrows raised slightly, the only outward sign of his heightened interest. "And did you increase patrols?"

     She nodded, the overhead fluorescent lights reflecting off her red hair. "For a few days, yes. Ultimately, we didn't see anything out of the ordinary."

     "Did Cyrus mention this suspicious activity to either of you at any other time?" Rossi asked, looking between the mayor and the detective. His gaze was penetrating, searching for any hint of withheld information.

     Olivia shook her head, her perfectly curled hair hardly moving. "No, he never said a word to me. Mary didn't mention anything either." Her reply carried a note of disbelief as if she was still processing this new information.

     "And you didn't think to bring this up earlier, Detective?" There was a hint of reproach in the agent's eyes. His fingers drummed once against his thigh, a rare display of impatience.

     Reeves shifted uncomfortably, her police uniform suddenly feeling too tight around the collar. "Like I said, it seemed like nothing at the time. Cyrus himself brushed it off when I followed up with him a few days later."

     Rossi's mind was racing, connecting this new piece to the puzzle he was assembling. "Anything else? Any other calls or reports from the Crests that seemed unusual in hindsight?"

     "No, that was it," she replied, relief evident. "Everything else was routine. School events, church functions, volunteering, that sort of thing."

     "Thank you for sharing," he replied, nodding. "It might not lead anywhere, but it's important we have all the information available." He and Olivia glanced at the interview room where Gideon spoke animatedly to Carson. There was a slight smile on her face and she watched him attentively. "I think we've kept them waiting long enough. Let's head back in. But I'd like to follow up on these points later if you're available, detective."

     "Of course."

     The atmosphere of the interview room shifted palpably when the group of three re-entered. Carson, who had been leaning towards Gideon, her small face gradually animating the longer he talked to her, immediately stiffened. Her eyes, wide and wary, darted between the returning adults before settling on her hands.

     Jason looked up, his kind eyes quickly assessing the situation. "We were just talking about the various birds native to this area of Oregon," he said, his voice warm and casual. "Carson is very well-versed on the subject."

     Mayor Hart moved swiftly to Carson's side, her heels somehow clicking sharply on the carpet. She placed a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder. "That's wonderful, sweetie," she said, straining for normalcy. Lingering comments of the previous conversation had yet to leave her mind. "Maybe you can tell me a bit about that later?"

     Nodding silently, Carson's fingers tightened around her jacket sleeves.

     Detective Reeves cleared her throat, shifting her weight uncomfortably. The tension from their conversation outside seemed to cling to her like a shroud, too. "Everything okay in here?"

     "Just fine," Jason replied, offering a reassuring smile. His gaze, however, was fixed on Rossi, silently questioning.

     Rossi moved to his previous seat, the chair slightly rubbing against the carpet as he sat down. His face was a mask of professional calm, but there was a new intensity in his eyes. "Carson," he said gently, "we appreciate your patience. We just had a few things to discuss."

     The girl's eyes flicked up to meet his for a brief moment before dropping. Her small shoulders hunched a tad as if she were trying to make herself smaller.

     Olivia, still standing protectively near Carson, looked between Rossi and Jason. "I think that's enough for today," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "Carson needs rest."

     "Of course," Rossi agreed, his countenance softening. "We've made good progress today." He turned his attention to Carson, his following words delicate but direct. "Carson, thank you for talking with us. You've been very brave."

     There was no response from her.

     Jason leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees again. "Remember what we talked about with the birds? The blue jay?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "How they're resilient, clever, and brave? That's just like you."

     For the first time since the adults had re-entered the room, Carson looked up to meet Jason's stare. A ghost of a smile flickered across her face, there and gone in an instant.

     Detective Reeves, who'd been hovering near the door, stepped forward. "I'll escort you out," she said kindly, wearing a polite smile.

     As Mayor Hart helped Carson to her feet, the girl's small hand slipping trustingly into hers, Rossi and Jason exchanged a significant look. There was more to discuss, much more to investigate, but for now, the well-being of the traumatized child before them took precedence.

     The group of five moved toward the door, the air heavy with unspoken questions and barely contained emotions. When they filed out of the room one by one, Carson glanced over her shoulder and met Jason's eyes. In that brief moment, a flicker of something—trust, perhaps, or the faintest glimmer of hope—passed between them.

     Then the door closed, leaving behind an empty room save for the lingering echoes of confessions made, secrets hinted at, and a tragedy still swathed in mystery.

━━━━━━━━┛ ♱ ┗━━━━━━━━

╱ 𝕬UTHOR'S 𝕹OTE. . .

⁰¹ 𝕽𝖀𝕴𝕹. . . RUIN !
━━━━━━ ♱ ━━━━━━
written by CARDIIAC © 2024.
破滅 . ݃♱ .

     jason + carson are my favorite unofficial duo.

     what is everyone thinking so far? any theories as to what's really going on? i'd love to hear everyone's thoughts!

     i love this book so much and i will go to my grave proclaiming that. it is so so special to me, and i cannot wait to dive further into it.

     i hope you enjoyed chapter two! and i hope you have a beautiful week!

     thank you for reading <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˒⠀𝑹𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹. . . ▬⠀⤸

Thank you all for taking the time out of your day to comment on this story. It means a lot and helps the story be spread to a broader audience &&& allows me to grow as an author. All I ask is that people vote on each chapter, please. As a creator, it takes time to write and develop stories. So please, vote on every chapter. It means a lot more than I could ever express.

Don't forget to vote & comment!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˒⠀𝑪𝑶𝑷𝒀𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻. . . ▬⠀⤸

❝ All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be
reproduced, distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, including
photocopying, recording, or other
electronic or mechanical methods,
without prior permission of the author,
except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical reviews and
other noncommercial uses permitted
by copyright law. ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━