Page 64 of Such a Quiet Place
Javier Cora:Lol
Preston Seaver:He’s just being honest. There can’t be anything else. A lawyer will take that and try to cast doubt, twist the story around so that it’s someone else instead. Anyone who might’ve stepped outside. Suddenly you’re the other suspect. Just saying.
Chase Colby:He’s not wrong.
Tina Monahan:It’s obviously her.
Charlotte Brock:Delete this.
This exchange had barely appeared on the message board before Chase went back and deleted it. But it was enough. And Ruby had it.
The post that had kicked everything off. The focus on her time line that ultimately led to her conviction, yes. But also her release. The screenshot that found its way to the lawyer months after the trial, that started the internal investigation into the police. That got her conviction overturned.
Ruby had a copy of it, and as with a list of suspects, she was watching them all.
The paper shook in my hand as I scanned through the names. My neighbors, people who once were my friends. It had seemed so innocent then: an idea slowly gaining momentum—evidence conforming toward its support.
I had thought everyone had good intentions. But maybe I was wrong.
The people of Hollow’s Edge, subconsciously conspiring against her, to end her. To put her in her place. To show:Here—look what we can do. That we, as a collective group, were powerful. And once we began, it was a steamroller gaining momentum, and there was no stopping it.
She had come out of prison on a mission. Had lied and broken into this house; followed us, watched us. Taunted us with what she knew.
This neighborhood may have become something different in the time since she’d been gone, but oh, so had she.
I wasn’t sure if she would’ve done this before or whether prison had changed her. Or if everything that had happened before had changed her view of the justice system. What was the point of playing by the rules if you were the only one? If the system had failed you?
Not that I was ever sure Ruby had played by the rules. She’d had these keys, after all.
But two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been here. I wouldn’t have dug up the keys and let myself into this home that did not belong to me.
Turned out, we were all so close to criminal. All you needed was a good enough motive.
I TOOK THE JOURNALwith me. Had no intention of staying in this house any longer than necessary. Wasn’t sure how Ruby had managed—in the oppressive heat, with the stifling scent—knowing all that had happened here. I couldn’t lock the back door, since the key didn’t work, but I retraced my steps, out the patio gate, back through my own, and then sat on the edge of my couch, trying to make sense of Ruby’s notes.
