Bittersweet Read Online Free Page B

find her. Why my great aunt or her lawyer would be hanging out in a place like this was only the first of my questions.
    â€œOh quit being such wusses.” Abby marched straight inside, disappearing in the fog of dust. Brianne and I stood there exchanging glares meant to force the other into entering next. I lost and reluctantly followed after Abby, who had disappeared down a long corridor.
    â€œNothing fazes that girl, it’s not normal,” Brianne muttered close behind me. The click and crunch of her heels on the chipped floor echoed around us.
    â€œCould you walk quieter?” I whispered.
    She huffed, but the clicking softened. A door at the end of the hall was slightly open, enough to see the stark white light pouring from the cracks beneath the frame. Holding my breath to keep from puking from the stench, I knocked softly.
    No reply.
    I entered.
    Brianne froze at the doorway, unable to make her feet go any further. “Okay.” She held up her hands. “It’s like a homeless drag queen threw up and then died in here.”
    The floor was covered with floral and paisley printed clothing in violent shades of fuchsia, orange and lime green. Tobacco stains and cigarette burns marred every surface and the room smelled like a giant ashtray. Abby picked up a small furry handbag and then dropped it with a squeal when it started to move on its own in her hand. “Who lives here?”
    â€œSeriously, I need to get out of this place. I did not agree to some kind of crazy insane suicide mission to the place Manson, Dahmer and Bernardo shacked up to compare body counts.”
    Abby sighed. “You watch way too much true-crime TV.”
    After walking past a dresser with every drawer opened and overflowing with more of the same hideous attire, I pushed open the door to the washroom and gagged on the stench. Foreign black stains splattered the ripped shower curtains and peeling mildewed wallpaper. And the sink looked and smelled like someone had mistaken it for a urinal. Jurassic-sized cockroaches scaled the crumbling tile surrounding the tub and hanks of reddish brown hair were resting on the floor, as though freshly cut from someone’s head. What had gone on in here?
    The door to the room slammed shut and Brianne screamed, clapping a hand over her mouth.
    â€œShhhhh. Do you want everyone to know we’re here?” I whispered, mostly because I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs to speak any louder.
    â€œWhat everyone ? This place is a friggin’ tomb.” She came up behind me to peer over my shoulder at the bathroom. Her other hand flew over her mouth and nose, since one evidently wasn’t doing an adequate job of keeping out the reek. “Well, now we know where the lovely aroma is coming from,” she mumbled through her fingers.
    Abby frowned. “Maybe you should call that guy back, the one you were supposed to meet here. My psychic sense tells me he’s going to be a no-show.”
    â€œYa think?” Brianne muttered. “And what guy? I thought we were looking for your aunt? Shouldn’t you call the cops or something?
    Sheriff Duncan? Davin’s uncle? Oh sure, I could just see him investigating something that involved supernatural forces. “It’s too soon for that. She might be totally fine,” I said. Though not one part of me believed that.
    â€œWell, maybe you wrote the address down wrong.”
    I ignored Brianne and hit redial on my phone. It beeped and redirected to a recorded message. Tossing it back in my bag, I looked at Abby. “The number’s been disconnected.”
    â€œThen I say we take off,” she replied. “Obviously there’s nothing here that has anything to do with Camilla.”
    â€œCheck this out. The drag queen heroine junkie actually owns a non-neon scarf.”
    We turned in unison to see Brianne holding up another piece of clothing, very different from the rest. It was a simple