Where Is Araminta Green? (ONC 2024)

Chapter 3: Conspiracy Board

When looking at the board in front of him—filled with scribbles and arrows—Jordan felt like Charlie from "Always Sunny in Philadelphia" in that gif frequently posted when someone makes outrageous claims of conspiracy. He'd borrowed the whiteboard from his little sister Darcy's room, as she'd used it when learning to write all the letters of the alphabet. But at eleven, Darcy knew the alphabet very well and had jumped at the opportunity to open up space on her walls for more K-pop posters. The only letters that mattered to her these days were BTS.

The board was filled with scattered notes. Jordan had hoped that scribbling down the clues he had would make something click, but so far no breakthrough had happened from staring at the wall. It just looked like a misguided attempt at drawing a spider, as black arrows stretched out from the attached town map at the center, where Araminta's house and the route toward the cemetery were marked.

"Grave?" was jotted down right above the cemetery to remind Jordan that he needed to try to find the grave Rhonda had mentioned. The one Araminta used to place lilies of the valley on.

"Howard" read another note, recalling the name of the cemetery receptionist as someone to track down. Because while Jordan found Rhonda trustworthy it was Journalism 101 to always talk to the source of a claim.

"Woods" was encircled to emphasize the importance of checking out the path toward there. The lore intrigued Jordan and he imagined it would have piqued Araminta's interest as well. And it was in the woods behind the house he sometimes thought he saw glimpses of her. While Jordan didn't think Araminta lived out there as some kind of cavewoman, the wilderness beyond the town felt connected to her disappearance somehow.

That was all he had uncovered so far. Although the board also had some yet-to-be-investigated leads highlighted, so he wouldn't forget.

"School" was the first entry, and his high school was where Jordan would go the next day to continue following the trail of Araminta right as she vanished. No one of their classmates went there anymore, but Jordan had never seen Araminta be friendly with any of them anyway. Once, he'd seen her speaking to Valeria, the head cheerleader, in hushed tones, like they had a secret together, so perhaps he should try to find her. Although Valeria, with her high blonde ponytails and crop tops, struck him as even more intimidating than Araminta.

"Family" was written below. Jordan had tried to find contact information for Araminta's family, as he felt like an interview with someone related to her was necessary, but so far been unsuccessful. In desperation, he'd sent a Facebook message to a woman called Christine Green, who suspected was a relative of Araminta's (based on her being the only one with the same last name as Araminta whom she was friends with on the platform, although that was probably a flimsy connection seeing that the last name was common).

"Police" was the last note, reminding Jordan that he needed to try to find out what the official investigation into the case had revealed. Although he didn't think anyone at the police station would be willing to talk to a nosy journalist student. Which was probably just as well, since Jordan got nauseous at the mere thought of interacting with police. Their questioning of him after Araminta's disappearance had been prying, rude, and lengthy. At least he had submitted an inquiry to get the public records of the case mailed to him. Hopefully, that would contain some new clues.

A ping from his computer made Jordan look away from the board. A comment had been entered in the discussion server set up by the university. It wasn't mandatory to participate in discussions there but highly encouraged since partaking in each other's work as it was created was beneficial for their understanding of the process. This particular comment came from the channel bearing Jordan's name, where classmates could drop their reactions to his podcast. Although no one had. Until now. With bated breath, Jordan clicked on the comment. He'd noticed that his first episode had 12 plays by now, of which a few were probably his own, but didn't know how the material had been received by listeners.