the stoop. Pain arced across my chest until I heaved out everything that had been inside me.
Panting, I dropped down to sit on the stoop and fished in my bag for the bottle of water I always had on me. I rinsed my mouth out, then swallowed half the water in the bottle. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to take long, even breaths.
I wasnât cut out for this. I shouldâve stayed at the community center. The streets I existed on were leafy and clean, well lit and full of people. I had never been in a place that felt lonelier. I placed my hands over my heart and circled them. Sweetness , I thought. Sweetness . No warmth came this time. The cold concrete seeped under my skin, chilling me to the bone. I should just go home. Did I really need to know who this girl was?
The answer shattered through me so hard my eyes flew open. Yes . I had to know. I didnât care what Maureen or Grandma or anyone said. I couldnât move forward until I knew whose heart this had been. The Catch whispered in my ears, like Jane Doeâs voice guiding me. If you want me to belong to you , it seemed to say, you have to know who I used to be .
I picked myself up and stood for a moment, hugging myself against the cold. I wanted my life back. And if I had to visit the loneliest corner of the city to get it, then thatâs what Iâd do.
Outside the door was a row of mailboxes and an intercom. I buzzed next to the stuck-on label reading âLandlord,â but there was no answer. I glanced up at the windows again. I didnât want to buzz anyone else. Who knew what would come to the door?
I dug through my bag until I found a pen and a piece of paper. I scribbled a vague note asking about vacancies in the building, signed my name and cell number, and shoved it in the landlordâs mailbox. I checked my watch. I still had two hours before I was expected home. Shivering, I glanced up and down the street. If Jane Doe had come here to die, it made sense that this was a neighborhood where she hung out. Maybe a little exploration would yield a clue.
At the curb where the cab had dropped me, I looked left and right. Taking a guess, I turned left. The Catch got louder. I turned right at the next corner, then left again. Cold wind blew down the empty sidewalks, skittering a candy wrapper across my path. My footsteps echoed on the pavement. I glanced over my shoulder, but the street here was as lonely as back at 826 Emiline.
My incision started to ache. This was weird , knowing exactly where to go in a place Iâd never been, moving without thinking. My steps were usually so deliberate and measured, and now my unconscious mind propelled me forward. I rounded the corner onto a long stretch of dark road. Shabby brownstones, practically built on top of each other, lined one side of the street while a tall, wrought-iron fence ran along the other. I peered into the expanse beyond the fence. Rows and rows of uneven headstones dotted the hill that sloped away from the street. I took a step toward the cemetery.
The memory came so strong and fast that the wind was knocked out of me. A full moon rises above the cemetery gate, lightening the iron from black to gray. Headlights sweep the potholed street, pooling on the pavement as the car pulls to a stop. The door opens. Itâs dark in the car, so dark that I canât see who or how many people are in there. No one speaks, but I know that I have to get in. I know I have toâ¦but I donât want to⦠I donât want toâ¦
Air returned to my lungs. I gulped it in and straightened. My mind spun, trying to wrap around why Jane Doe was here, why the car had come for her. I crossed to the cemetery and pulled at the gate. A chain looped through the iron bars rattled, breaking the stillness of the street. An instant later, light swept across the length of the fence.
I whirled around. A silver sports car had turned onto the street. It slowed as it approached, just like the car in
Panting, I dropped down to sit on the stoop and fished in my bag for the bottle of water I always had on me. I rinsed my mouth out, then swallowed half the water in the bottle. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to take long, even breaths.
I wasnât cut out for this. I shouldâve stayed at the community center. The streets I existed on were leafy and clean, well lit and full of people. I had never been in a place that felt lonelier. I placed my hands over my heart and circled them. Sweetness , I thought. Sweetness . No warmth came this time. The cold concrete seeped under my skin, chilling me to the bone. I should just go home. Did I really need to know who this girl was?
The answer shattered through me so hard my eyes flew open. Yes . I had to know. I didnât care what Maureen or Grandma or anyone said. I couldnât move forward until I knew whose heart this had been. The Catch whispered in my ears, like Jane Doeâs voice guiding me. If you want me to belong to you , it seemed to say, you have to know who I used to be .
I picked myself up and stood for a moment, hugging myself against the cold. I wanted my life back. And if I had to visit the loneliest corner of the city to get it, then thatâs what Iâd do.
Outside the door was a row of mailboxes and an intercom. I buzzed next to the stuck-on label reading âLandlord,â but there was no answer. I glanced up at the windows again. I didnât want to buzz anyone else. Who knew what would come to the door?
I dug through my bag until I found a pen and a piece of paper. I scribbled a vague note asking about vacancies in the building, signed my name and cell number, and shoved it in the landlordâs mailbox. I checked my watch. I still had two hours before I was expected home. Shivering, I glanced up and down the street. If Jane Doe had come here to die, it made sense that this was a neighborhood where she hung out. Maybe a little exploration would yield a clue.
At the curb where the cab had dropped me, I looked left and right. Taking a guess, I turned left. The Catch got louder. I turned right at the next corner, then left again. Cold wind blew down the empty sidewalks, skittering a candy wrapper across my path. My footsteps echoed on the pavement. I glanced over my shoulder, but the street here was as lonely as back at 826 Emiline.
My incision started to ache. This was weird , knowing exactly where to go in a place Iâd never been, moving without thinking. My steps were usually so deliberate and measured, and now my unconscious mind propelled me forward. I rounded the corner onto a long stretch of dark road. Shabby brownstones, practically built on top of each other, lined one side of the street while a tall, wrought-iron fence ran along the other. I peered into the expanse beyond the fence. Rows and rows of uneven headstones dotted the hill that sloped away from the street. I took a step toward the cemetery.
The memory came so strong and fast that the wind was knocked out of me. A full moon rises above the cemetery gate, lightening the iron from black to gray. Headlights sweep the potholed street, pooling on the pavement as the car pulls to a stop. The door opens. Itâs dark in the car, so dark that I canât see who or how many people are in there. No one speaks, but I know that I have to get in. I know I have toâ¦but I donât want to⦠I donât want toâ¦
Air returned to my lungs. I gulped it in and straightened. My mind spun, trying to wrap around why Jane Doe was here, why the car had come for her. I crossed to the cemetery and pulled at the gate. A chain looped through the iron bars rattled, breaking the stillness of the street. An instant later, light swept across the length of the fence.
I whirled around. A silver sports car had turned onto the street. It slowed as it approached, just like the car in
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