Locket full of Secrets Read Online Free

number of stab wounds and her quick exit out of the bathroom’s only window made all the police uneasy. Even more so, however, was the fact that there was no record of an Olena Kozak living in the United States. There were no records showing her arrival in from Russia, and no fingerprint record on file either.
    As I laid there in the hospital bed staring at the stark white ceiling I ran my conversation with Olena over and over again in my head. We had chatted about boys we used to have crushes on, the latest drama with the girls we hung out with back in middle school, and then it was over. She was gone, killing a man and leaving his body in her wake.
    “We got you some food,” my mom suddenly announced, coming into the room with my dad.
    I did my best to smile as they placed a tray before me loaded with fresh fruit, soup, chips, a sandwich, and classic hospital Jell-O.
    “I wasn’t sure how hungry you would be,” dad shrugged.
    “So he bought the whole cafeteria!” Mom laughed, but the worry lines stayed on her forehead like a stain.
    “Thanks, it’s perfect,” I replied. My stomach still felt like a brick, but I did my best to start putting food into my body. I could feel my parents watch each raise and lowering of my arm, willing the food to heal my body and emotions faster.
    “I spoke with the doctor,” mom said casually as she began tidying up the already clean room. “They want to get some more fluids in you and then they said you should be okay to leave.”
    “Great,” I managed through a mouth of Jell-O. It was already 2 in the afternoon, and the idea of being in my own bed felt wonderful.
    “Let’s put the game on!” Dad announced, grabbing the remote and flipping on the Cleveland Indians game. He was a caged animal in the tiny hospital room, wanting to run but not wanting to leave me alone with the big needles and constant questions about all I had been through.
    Doing my best to choke down more food while watching the game, I tried to pretend I was at home in our living room watching the innings play out. Baseball was always on in my house, so the familiar voices of the commentators helped me relax a little more. Mom took a seat at the end of my bed, one hand resting on my leg while she cheered on the team with dad and me. If it wasn’t for the shadowy figure of the police outside and the sterile smell of hospital chemicals invading my nostrils I might have actually enjoyed our moment.
    Taking the last bite of chips I could muster, I leaned back into my pillows. I closed my eyes and listened to the game. Before long, the game faded as I once again found sleep, despite the chaos around me.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

     
    I was woken up at the end of the second inning when a nurse entered to check my vitals. Dad took it as his cue to step outside while mom pretended to read a magazine to pass the time. Between questions from the nurse I could hear dad in the hallway chatting to Mr. Cimenti. It was hard to make out exactly what they were saying it, but the phrases I caught were less than comforting. From what I could put together it sounded like the dead body was unidentified, the only lead coming from the Canadian cash in his wallet.
    “I’ll be back in just a moment with release forms for you to sign,” the nurse told my mom before leaving the room
    “Well, let’s get you into something more comfortable.” Mom could not help but smile as she pulled my favorite flannel pajamas out of the tote bag she had sitting with her coat.  
    I smiled back at her, not forcing the action for the first time since arriving at the hospital the night before. Sitting up to get changed I tried not to think too much about where my other clothes were. I knew I would likely never see them again, since they were no doubt in an evidence bag somewhere still covered in blood from the bathroom floor. Shaking off the thought, I pulled on an old pair of tennis shoes just as dad