Chapter 5 "The Scarlet Woman"

DETECTIVE SARAH MONROE

Sarah watched Catherine Brett's face carefully, noting every micro expression. The woman had recognized something about that mark. Sarah was sure of it.

"Mrs. Brett," she said gently, "I'd like to hear about this folk tale. Even if it seems irrelevant, sometimes old stories have grains of truth."

Catherine hesitated, glancing at her husband, who was still focused on Tyler's body.

"It's called the Scarlet Woman," she said finally. "My grandmother grew up here, in Hollow Creek, back in the 1950s. She said the story had been around for as long as anyone could remember at least since the early 1900s."

"What's the story?"

"A woman was accused of adultery and witchcraft. The town or maybe it was a specific family, I don't remember cursed her. After that, any man who... who was intimate with her would die. And they'd all have the same mark. A scarlet rose on their forehead."

Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. "What happened to the woman?"

"She killed herself, according to the story. Hung herself after her lover died. But my grandmother said some people believed the curse didn't die with her. That it could... I don't know, pass on somehow. Live in other women." Catherine laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I'm sorry, this is ridiculous. It's just a ghost story."

"Maybe," Sarah said neutrally. But she was already making mental notes. Folk tales often had historical roots. If there really had been a woman in the early 1900s who'd been accused and cursed, there might be records. Church documents, newspaper archives, something.

And if multiple men had died the same way back then...

"Is there anyone else who might know more about this story?" Sarah asked. "Anyone who studies local history?"

"The Ashcroft Historical Society," Catherine said. "Margaret Crane runs it. She knows everything about Hollow Creek's past. But Detective, you can't seriously think"

"I'm just being thorough," Sarah assured her. Though privately, she was already planning to visit this historical society. Because that mark on Tyler Brett's forehead was too specific, too unusual to ignore. And if there was even a chance that something similar had happened before, she needed to know about it.

David Brett finally straightened, wiping his eyes. "Can we have a few more minutes?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Of course," Dr. Waters said. "Take all the time you need."

Sarah stepped out into the hallway, pulling out her phone. She had a toxicology report waiting, and now she had a new line of inquiry to pursue.

The Scarlet Woman.

It sounded like something out of a bad horror movie.

But Sarah had been a cop long enough to know that truth was often stranger than fiction.

EMBER

By seven PM, it seemed like the entire university had gathered at the fountain.

Ember stood near the back of the crowd, Maya beside her, watching as students lit candles and passed them forward. The sky had finally made good on its promise a light rain was falling, forcing everyone to cup their hands around the flames to keep them alive.

A makeshift memorial had sprung up around the fountain's base: flowers, photographs, a basketball jersey with Tyler's number, handwritten notes that were already bleeding in the rain.

"This is so sad," Maya whispered.

Ember nodded, unable to speak. The candle in her hand flickered, casting dancing shadows across her fingers. All around her, students were crying some openly sobbing, others silently streaming tears.

She recognized some of Tyler's teammates, their faces stricken. A group of girls who must have been close to him, holding each other. Even students who probably hadn't known him personally looked shaken.

Death wasn't supposed to touch people their age. They were supposed to be immortal, invincible, with their whole lives ahead of them.

The university president stepped forward, his voice amplified by a microphone. "We're gathered here tonight to remember Tyler Brett a son, a friend, a valued member of our community. Tyler's loss reminds us of the fragility of life and the importance of cherishing every moment we have with those we love..."

The speech washed over Ember. She stared at the candle flame, mesmerized by its dance. The rain was falling harder now, but somehow her candle stayed lit.

Around her, she could hear fragments of conversation:

"can't believe he's gone"

"just saw him Friday night"

"what if it was drugs? What if there's bad stuff going around campus"

"his poor parents"

Ember's head began to ache. The voices seemed to multiply, overlapping, until they became a roar in her ears. The candlelight grew too bright. She swayed on her feet.

"Em?" Maya's hand on her elbow. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just dizzy."

"We can leave if you want."

"No, it's fine. I'm fine."

But she wasn't fine. Something felt wrong. Not wrong like sick wrong like displaced. Like she was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, watching something she had no right to witness.

The ceremony continued. Students came forward to share memories stories about Tyler's sense of humor, his dedication to basketball, the way he'd helped a struggling freshman with math homework. Each story painted a picture of someone kind, someone good.

Someone who didn't deserve to die at twenty years old.

Ember tried to feel sad, tried to access the grief that everyone else seemed to be drowning in. But all she felt was that wrongness, growing stronger with every passing minute.

When the ceremony finally ended, the crowd began to disperse slowly, reluctantly. Students placed their candles around the memorial, adding to the sea of flickering lights. Some lingered, not ready to leave, not ready to return to their normal lives and pretend everything was okay.

Maya placed her candle among the others. "Come on, let's go."

Ember moved to do the same, but as she bent down, her eyes caught on one of the photographs propped against the fountain.

Tyler Brett, smiling at the camera. Basketball uniform, confident grin, whole life ahead of him.

And in that moment, Ember remembered.

Not everything. Not the blank spaces. But a fragment a flash of memory so vivid it nearly knocked her over.

A hallway. Tyler's face. His hand on her elbow.

"My room's just down here. You can sit for a minute..."

The memory vanished as quickly as it came, leaving Ember gasping.

"Em?" Maya was staring at her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just" She couldn't explain. Didn't want to explain. Because if that memory was real, if Tyler Brett had taken her to his room Friday night, then

No.

No, she would remember something like that. She would know.

"I'm tired," Ember said, her voice hollow. "Let's go home."

They walked back to Sterling Hall in silence, the rain falling steadily now, extinguishing the candles one by one.