Abigail.
My stomach dropped. I didn’t want to believe the report but hearing Meemaw’s panicked voice only told me the reports were right all along. A lone tear streaked down my cheek and I wiped it off angrily.
"Why wouldn’t you tell me?" I demanded, clamping down the anger rising through my veins.
"What’s wrong?" Gramps’ voice boomed in the background. "Marissa, what happened to Abigail?"
"She knows," Meemaw whispered, "She knows about Hugo and Isabella."
I pressed my palm against my mouth, trying to muffle the sob clawing up my throat. Annette’s hand gripped my shoulder.
"Why? Why did you tell me it was an accident? Why did you fucking lie to me for fifteen years?"
"Oh, Mellia," Meemaw sighed, her voice growing thick with tears. "We had to. We had to, baby."
Heat flared in my chest. "You had to let me think they died because Dad was speeding? I blamed myself for surviving when they didn’t, Meemaw. I... God, I still can’t believe you would lie about your son’s death!"
"Because we would have lost you too!" she cried.
I blinked rapidly, eyes meeting Annette’s who leaned closer to hear the conversation. "What?"
"Give me the phone, Marissa." Gramps grunted. "Abigail, darling, listen to me. During the investigation, we received threats."
My breath hitched. "Threats?"
"Someone called the house," Gramps continued, "They left notes in the mailbox and told us if we kept pushing for answers, if we didn’t let the case die..." He paused. "They said we’d lose you too."
"Let me get this straight," I said bitterly. "They killed my parents then threatened to kill me too?"
"We had just lost Hugo and Isabella," Meemaw sobbed in the background. "We couldn’t... we couldn’t lose you too. I couldn’t survive it. That’s why we had to move."
"We had to stop the investigation to protect you," Gramps said quietly.
I bit back a dry laugh. Whoever had killed my parents had some nerve. Threatening to kill me? I gritted my teeth, clenching my hands into fists.
"We hated it." Meemaw sobbed. "We hated lying to you. Every time you asked about the accident, every time you had nightmares, every time you blamed yourself, it killed us. But what else could we do? How could we risk you..."
Her voice trailed into cries. Tears fell hotly down my cheeks and Annette pulled me against her side, her arm wrapping around me.
They were trying to protect me. Someone threatened to kill me if they investigated. They murdered my parents and got away with it.
Not anymore.
"I’m sorry," Meemaw whispered. "I’m so sorry, Mellia. Please forgive us."
"We did what we thought was right," Gramps added. "Maybe we were wrong. Maybe we should have fought harder, or- or found another way. But we couldn’t lose you, you were all we had left. You are all we have, darling."
My hand trembled against the phone. "I’m not mad at you."
I wasn’t. I was furious, but not at them.
No, whoever did this, whoever killed my parents and then threatened my grieving grandparents into silence, they thought they could get away with murdering my dad and mom?
"Maybe." I wiped my face with the back of my hand. "But what if they’re not? What if whoever sent this has evidence or some sort of information, Annie? What if they can help me find who did this?"
Annette bit her lip. "Abby..."
"I have to try." My voice hardened. "I have to know who killed them. Why did they kill them? I have to make sure they pay for what they did."
"What if whoever threatened your grandparents comes after you?"
"Then they come after me." I met her eyes. "I’m not some nine-year-old anymore, Annie. I’m not going to hide."
She groaned. "I want to say, fuck yeah, let’s do this, but we’re not freaking James bond, Abby." Yet as she spoke, she sighed and grabbed her laptop. "Okay. Then let’s find out who sent the damn box."
It took Annette less than thirty minutes to get the address.
"Got it," she announced, spinning her laptop toward me. "The package was sent from a PO box, but the payment for that box traces back to an address on the outskirts of the city."
I leaned forward, reading the screen. "That’s like an hour away,"
"An hour and fifteen in traffic." Annette was already standing, grabbing her keys. "Come on."
"Wait, now?"
"Let’s just do this before I lose my courage," she grumbled.
Fair point, I thought with a dry smile and rose off the couch. When we arrived at the address an hour thirty minutes later, the door was wide open and what we saw had us shaking down to our toes.

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