Chapter 2 - Shadows on Maple Drive
The sterile fluorescent lights of Memorial General’s intensive care unit hummed a monotonous tune that grated against my raw nerves. Behind the heavy glass doors of Room 412, Violet lay motionless in a nest of white hospital sheets, her face obscured by an oxygen mask and surrounded by a silent symphony of intravenous drips, heart monitors, and rhythmic ventilator breaths.
I sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside her bed, my hands locked together, staring at the purple bruising blooming across her jaw and temple. The doctors had stabilized her intracranial pressure, but she remained trapped in a medically induced coma to let her brain swelling subside.
The door clicked open softly, and Detective Miller stepped inside, holding a manila folder under his arm. He looked down at Violet for a long moment before turning his attention to me.
“We brought Harper in for questioning about an hour ago,” Miller said quietly, pulling up a chair opposite mine.
My head snapped up, a cold spike of adrenaline hitting my veins. “Where is she?”
“Downstairs in interview room two. Her parents showed up with a family attorney about twenty minutes after we notified them, looking like they’d been struck by lightning,” Miller replied, opening the folder to reveal a printed student directory photograph of a smiling teenage girl with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “They had no idea Harper wasn’t asleep in her own bed last night. According to them, she sneaked out around midnight.”
“Did she admit to giving anyone the code?” I demanded, leaning forward, the muscles in my forearms tightening.
“Not yet. Her lawyer is doing all the talking,” Miller said, sliding a printed text-message transcript across the table. “She claims she gave the code to a guy she met online—some college dropout named Tyler Vance who goes to the community college across town. She swears she only gave him the numbers because he promised to help her pull a harmless birthday prank on Violet for her sweet sixteen. Says she had no idea he was planning anything violent.”
I stared at the transcript, my eyes burning as I read the casual, chillingly casual texts between Harper and this unknown ghost.
Harp: She’s having a party this weekend, but her dad's coming home early unexpectedly. If you're gonna drop off that package, do it before 4.
Tyler: Got it. You sure the code works?
Harp: 4892. Just don't wreck the place. And don't let her see you.
“A prank,” I muttered, the word tasting like bile in my mouth. “She sold out her best friend for a package.”
May you like
“What kind of package, Mr. Callahan?” Miller asked, his eyes narrowing. “Because our initial sweep of your daughter's bedroom didn't turn up any drugs, stolen cash, or obvious valuables. But we did find something hidden behind the false bottom of her desk drawer—a flash drive locked with military-grade encryption.”
---
