Robin Jenkins and Christina Clark find the dead body of Violet Hayes in their apartment. They strike an investigation of their own and enlist the help of their neighbor, Finn Dallas.
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THE TRIO WAS PERCHED OVER FINN'S PHONE SCREEN, waiting for google maps to pinpoint the exact location scribbled on the piece of paper.
"It's an hour and a half away by train," Finn informed once the results loaded.
His fingers pinched the screen to zoom out, and Christina swallowed the heavy lump in her throat once she caught where it was.
Right across the river.
"That's Darwin," she pointed out with a slight shake of her voice. She could feel the thrill tightening her muscles, humming deeply within her bones at the arising clue. "Look." She pointed at the river, her eyes catching the six red pins scattered in Darwin around the edges of the ocean.
She located Burlington station.
But the location was next to it.
She clicked on the pin.
Crest Hill station.
She stood straighter, a heavy breath escaping her lips.
Finn let out a low whistle. "Shit..."
"Yeah." She swallowed, her chest slightly heaving. Her eyes skipped to the crumbled piece of paper that lay on the counter before them. She thought this through. Violet left them that message for one purpose only- "We have to go there."
Finn was leaning on the counter, and he snapped his head up to face her. "You're serious?"
"Look." She held the note, reading it, again and again.
I thought I had more time
I thought I was careful
49 Bomen Street
NO POLICE
"She left it in Robin's whistle." She took the nearest hair tie she could find and gathered her hair up in a tight ponytail, finding relief in removing distraction. "It looks like it's been written in haste. Or her handwriting is usually messy." She turned to Robin for confirmation.
The latter snapped out of her trail of thoughts. Her features had been set into somber expression. "Hm?"
"Violet's handwriting," Christina repeated, "is this how it usually is?"
"No. Her handwriting is neat. This is rushed." She would know, seeing the many times she watched her scribble on a deadline.
"Rushed..." she echoed. "Robin." Her mind whirred with possible explanations, and it was making the atmosphere around her grow hotter; almost suffocating. She headed to the window, pulling it open in desperate need to cool down. "Robin, did you have your whistle, that night? Did you have it?" She stood in front of the two on the opposite side of the counter, feeling restless.
