To Tell An Altswood Lie (The Altswood Saga #3)

Chapter 20 - Shard

By now, there was nothing to lose by telling the absolute truth.

My words had startled Gabriel, who didn't think I would admit so much, but they seemed to have the desired effect on Crystal. She blinked in shock, then chewed over the severity of my plea.

She opened her door slowly.

"Come in then."

We followed Crystal through a narrow hallway, flattening plush carpet underneath our feet. I guessed she lived alone by the way she walked—she wasn't concerned about her heavy footfalls waking anybody else within the house.

"You kids go make yourselves comfortable," Crystal said warily, nodding towards the lounge. Meanwhile, she continued forward, into what looked like a small kitchenette. "I'll make some tea."

Gabriel and I stepped into the lounge hesitantly. Though it was cozy, it was a mess, with scattered clothing piled in one corner. The TV was playing on mute, broadcasting a late night talk show with participants who looked dead behind the eyes.

I scanned the walls, finding pictures of a younger Crystal with two people who looked like her parents. The grandfather clock continued crawling into the late hour, its ticking the only noise in the room as we sat down on the larger sofa gingerly.

I eyed the heavy blanket on the rocking chair and the dirtied bowl on the table that looked week-old. Before I could point out these worrying aspects, Crystal returned, balancing three cups of tea on a tray.

"You didn't have to," I said.

Crystal smiled tiredly as she sat down on the seat to our left. She passed us our cups.

"You look like you need it," she sighed. "Now, what is this about Beatrice?"

I hesitated, taking a long gulp of the tea, not knowing where to start. Gabriel noticed, and took over.

"It's a really long story," he said, his voice low, "and we can only ask you to believe us. Someone killed Beatrice Willis and Maire Reeve, and now they're after us. They're threatening to hurt us unless we can find them."

Horrified, Crystal's eyebrows drew tight, her head tilting to the side. "Pardon me?"


"I know it doesn't make any sense," I said, leaning forward. "But we need to piece together what happened in the summer before Beatrice died. We were hoping you would know."

Crystal blinked, setting her teacup down. She seemed to need a moment to absorb my request.

"I believe you," she finally said, "and I would certainly help if I could, but I'm not sure what you're asking here. I hardly associated with Beatrice or Maire that summer."

"Really?" I asked.

Crystal looked to the ground.

"We know about the Poetry Club," Gabriel said slowly. "We know about the drug dealing. Crystal, what happened at those meet-ups?"

The first sign of fire entered Crystal's manner.

"Okay, fine," she relented. "I did see them a few times for the exchanges. But I stand by what I said—there was nothing suspicious happening at those meet-ups, and honestly, I'm not sure what has gotten you convinced there was. We showed up, we got what we needed, and we left."

Then why was the killer under the illusion that something had happened?

"No one was angry?" Gabriel asked. "No one started any fights?"

Crystal tried to think, but it looked like she was stuck.

"Look," she said. As she slouched, the lighting on her face shifted, and her under-eye shadows suddenly became more pronounced. "I'm not the best person to ask about this. I was, at best, acquaintances with Beatrice and Maire."