"A Good Girl's Guide to Murder" by Holly Jackson, Part One

But it wasn’t haunted by ghosts, just three sad people trying to live their lives as before. A house not haunted by flickering lights or spectral falling chairs, but by dark spray-painted letters of “Scum Family” and stone-shattered windows.

This was corroborated by the police in a press conference on Tuesday, April 22: "Footage taken from a security camera outside the bank on Fairview's Main Street confirms that Andie's car was seen driving away from her home at about 10:40 p.m.’’

1% of people who disappear are never found. And just 0.25% of all missing persons cases have a fatal outcome. So where does this leave Andie Bell? Floating incessantly somewhere between 1% and 0.25%.

“How were your days, then?” her dad asked, setting Josh off on a graphic spiel about the soccer games he’d played earlier.

Police are not looking for anyone else in relation to Andie’s disappearance at this time, but our search for Andie will continue unabated.

Eighteen months later a court order was filed and Andie Bell was declared dead in absentia, based on the circumstances surrounding her disappearance.

After the ruling the district attorney said: "The case against Salil Singh would have been based on circumstantial and forensic evidence. It is not for me to state whether or not Salil Singh killed Andie Bell; that would have been a jury’s job to decide."

“Another Pip quote for the books.” Cara feigned writing it down in midair.

“So, on to boys from this decade,” Cara said, prodding Pip on the shoulder. “Did you go see Ravi Singh yet?” “Questionable segue. But yes, and I’m going back to interview him tomorrow.”

For reasons I don’t even know how to explain to myself, I want Sal Singh to be innocent. Reasons carried with me since I was twelve years old, inconsistencies that have nagged at me these past five years.

To be honest I think he’s a poor journalist, and I’m pretty sure the Singhs could sue him for defamation and libel about a dozen times over.

To be honest I think he’s a poor journalist, and I’m pretty sure the Singhs could sue him for defamation and libel about a dozen times over.

There are certain exemptions to disclosing information under the FOIA, like if the requested material relates to an ongoing investigation or if it would invade an individual’s privacy by divulging personal information.

Naomi smiled weakly, twisting the ends of her tawny hair.

It felt strange being there, like walking through some kind of crime-scene reconstruction; it looks just the same as it does in those Facebook photos they took on that fateful night five years ago.

Max still looks the same too: tall, blond floppy hair, mouth slightly too wide for his angular face, somewhat pretentious.

The woman scanned the milk, staring at Ravi with cold, noxious eyes.

I've already gotten character assessments from Sal’s friends and brother, but I thought Cara's dad might have some further, adult insights.

That’s when she remembered what she was wearing: denim overalls and a white T-shirt with the words TALK NERDY TO ME emblazoned across the chest.

At the end of the driveway, they crossed the road and headed into the stippled shade of the woods opposite.

The actual killer is still at large.

Pip gave the phone one last wistful look before handing it back.

Look, I know I've been flippant about her—and yeah, she had her flaws—but she was still my best friend who got murdered.

“Um, Cara,” Pip said tentatively, “you know this isn’t a tent you brought, right? It’s a canopy with sides.”

“Dismantling the patriarchy, one tent at a time.”

And Connor Reynolds, who Pip and Cara had met in middle school, gangly and ever eager to be the class clown.

His shaggy blond hair had fallen into his eyes, and his hands were full, carrying a cooler with Zach, so he inadvertently walked into a low-hanging branch.

“Connor!” she screamed again, chasing the only sign of him up ahead, a streak of light in the stifling darkness.

“Do you think this is funny?” Pip said, looking down at them as she brandished the note.

Pip ignored him, clambering into her sleeping bag, using her scrunched-up sweater as a pillow.