Layla
Bailey stirs sugar into her iced tea, her eyes wide and skeptical. “How many more murders did Robert say were connected to the property?”
“He only said there may have been more, but those two…well, four, if you count Shelby Morsgate’s family, were the only murders with confirmed connections.”
“I’ve lived in this town my entire life and never knew any of this,” she admits, her eyes focusing on the ice clicking in her glass. “Do you think it’s true?”
“I don’t know what to think.” I rest my chin in my hand and stare blankly at the pitcher of iced tea between us, the glass surface frosted and sweating in the unforgiving heat.
Bailey’s on break, and I should be asleep, but I doubt I’m going to sleep at all for the next several years after the stories Robert told me.
How is it poss
