Three
When Bryce sat down at her sister’s laptop for the first time in months, she had hundreds of emails waiting for her. She’d really only opened the thing in the first place to see what people were saying about Isaac’s death, whether there would be a town funeral she could attend, whether there were any leads yet —andhad found her screensaver had been changed from the standard slideshow of landscapes and sunsets to a photograph of Harry Styles on the cover ofVogue.
Teenagers.
There hadn’t been much to see, so now she sat methodically deleting each email, most of them discount codes for clothing sites she might’ve bought something from once and never bothered with again. The PDF version of a community college prospectus sat there, too, untouched since she’d signed herself up onto the mailing list after graduation. There would never be enough time in a day to go back to school now, and even if she did, she had no idea what she’d study. Media, maybe. Film.
And then what?the stiff, pragmatic voice in her head that always kept her from dreaming too big snapped back at the thought.How are you going to pay for Liv’s college with only a diploma in watching things?
The answer was, she wouldn’t. Stone Grange wasn’t known for its successful, well-paid artists. It was known for hard workers, laborers, people just trying to scrape by in any minimum wage job they could find. That was all Bryce would ever have. It was better not to even hope, better not to dream.Thiswas her life. There was no changing it now.
An unfamiliar email snagged her interest away from her depressing reality for a moment. Somebody named Genevieve Cox, with the subject line: ‘Potential Job Opportunity from an Avid Fan ofPerfect Crimes!’
Brows furrowing, Bryce clicked open the email, noticing the avatar beside the name was the well-known, blood spattered logo of Horror Town Studios. Bryce listened to some of their popular podcasts and watched the odd YouTube video reporting unsolved mysteries, but it was Thea who raved about their graphic novels and short films. Though Bryce didn’t know why, her heart began to race.
‘Miss Nicholls,’ read the email. ‘I hope this finds you well. I am writing with an exciting job opportunity I thought you would be interested in. Horror Town Studios Ltd. are hoping to begin production on a new docuseries exploring some of the most horrific and intriguing crimes and mysteries around the United States. After listening to your podcast,Perfect Crimes(great name, by the way), I think you would prove a valuable asset and interesting presenter for the show. I hope it wasn’t too forward of me to contact you via email, but it was the only personal up-to-date information I could find on the podcast’s social media pages. I’m aware that you work with your co-presenter, Thea Curtis, but please note that this offer extends only to you. If you’re interested or have any questions, please contact me at your earliest convenience.
Regards, Genevieve.’
The color drained from Bryce’s face at the mention of Thea.The offer extends only to you.
Before she could even analyze what that meant, reason began to kick in; gloomy, cynical clouds dampening any bit of hope Bryce had. Ithadto be some sort of scam. There was no way someone who worked for one of the most widely-known horror providers in the country wouldlistento Bryce and Thea’s podcast, much less like it enough to offer Bryce (andonlyBryce) a job.
She sipped her coffee, letting the cheap, bitter, barely dissolved granules bring her back down to earth. No. No way was this email meant for her.
Even so, her fingers itched at the keyboard. She opened a new tab without thinking, typing Genevieve’s name into the search engine. A portrait of a red-haired woman wearing a pinstripe suit popped up, next to it, the exact same Horror Town logo as her avatar. All of the details — email, phone number, address — that had been pinned to the bottom of her email were the same here, too.
If it was a scam, it was a damn good one.
“Who’s that?”
Bryce slammed the laptop shut when Liv sauntered into the kitchen, shucking off her backpack and jacket. Bryce hadn’t even heard her come in, though she was so used to the regular, three o’ clock opening of the front door that it probably no longer registered.
“No one,” she said, turning her attention to her sister. “How was school?”
“Don’t tell me your latest celebrity crush is some badly dressed CEO.” Liv sat at the kitchen table and pulled the laptop toward her.
Bryce knew better than to even bother trying to stop her, though her features hardened to a glare. “Snoop. A CEO is better than a boy-band member, anyway.”
“If you were at all cultured, you’d know One Direction split up in 2016. Tragic as it is, he isn’t a boy-band member anymore.” Liv’s dark eyes narrowed, face awash in the silvery light of the screen. “Who’s Genevieve Cox?”
“Some producer. Hey, how do you know if an email is sham mail or whatever you call it?”
Liv snorted. “Spam?”
“Yeah, that.” Bryce waved a dismissive hand and poured her tepid coffee into the sink.
“You mean this email?”
Bryce peered over her sister’s shoulder as she switched tabs, back to the email that had sparked all this in the first place.
“This is from, like, three months ago,” Liv pointed out as she scanned over the message. “Don’t you read your emails?”
“No,” admitted Bryce, tucking her lip beneath her teeth anxiously. She hated how badly she wanted Liv to tell her it looked real. How badly she wanted it tobereal.
“Well, it seems legit. All the details are the same and they’re not asking you to click any sus links. Hey, you’re going to be famous before me.”
Bryce snorted at that, straightening when her back began to ache. “Yeah, right.”