“Can you learn more about them from other visions?” Phoebe asked.

“I haven’t gotten visions of other murders- I’ve got a lot of ones where people are just going about their daily lives, but none that I can definitely link to any suspect. If they were a kid when they killed Bower, their body type probably changed as they aged. And it’s hard to identify someone based on what groceries they buy.”

“Sorry.” Since her suggestion hadn’t led to any breakthroughs, Phoebe turned her gaze towards the window.

“What about Connell?” Julia changed the subject.

“Grant’s been attempting to find a lead using the hitmen and the cars he hired for the attack, but hasn’t been successful. I’ve already called every hospital and clinic within a 50-mile radius of the train derailing. Nothing. Assuming he was injured when he jumped out, this supports my idea that he’s been operating under false identities. Or that he uses bribes to keep people quiet. Or that he knows someone who treated him under the table.” Cat, too, went back to staring out the window.

Phoebe watched thickets and farmland whiz past while music thumped, felt the uneven vibration of the car’s wheels on the gravel road. Julia slowed and swerved around a frog, which led to a lighter conversation between the three of them about catching tadpoles and grasshoppers as children.

“So I came home covered in mud, and then-”

A piercing cry cut over the music, interrupting Julia's story.

Image: A side view of Julia from the shoulders-up. She’s staring straight ahead with a tense, shocked expression and the feathers on her head are raised slightly. End description.

Phoebe’s ears perked. She and Cat sat up, both facing forward. The car’s speed decreased again, this time slowing to a stop, and the crying became louder and clearer. Someone was calling for help.

“Something in the road.” Julia turned down the volume. Not a frog. Phoebe squinted, trying to find what her friend was talking about. The thing—the two things—were clawing and waving near the side of the road. They were low to the ground and disappeared into thick grass. In spite of the desperate calls, she couldn’t see any blood or dirt; they were unnaturally clean. It was a pair of human arms. Julia hissed, “Shit.”

Image: A head-on view of two pale arms emerging from the grass and bushes on the side of the road. The hands are digging into the gravel as if something is pulling itself forward. Whatever the arms belong to is obscured in the foliage. End description.


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