May 9, 2017
ASHFORD: What happened in the dark?
Sara doesn’t answer. She hunches her shoulders, sitting almost sideways in the chair to point her body away from him.
ASHFORD: That’s what you wrote, at the end of your statement. “What happened in the dark?” But you were there, Sara. You’re the only one who was there for all of it. You’re the only one who knows for certain.
SARA: But I don’t. I can’t remember.
ASHFORD: I understand, Sara.
SARA: You do? Because I don’t. Why can’t I remember? I can’t remember what happened, and I can’t remember Nick, and I—there was something I forgot, and then I remembered, and now it’s gone again, but I told you, didn’t I? I told you?
Her voice is pleading.
ASHFORD: You mean Miranda.
She lets out a sigh, shuts her eyes.
SARA: Yes. Miranda. I—there’s something important. Something she told me.
Her fingers tap on the table.
ASHFORD: When did you write those words on your arm, Sara?
She looks down at her arm, pushes the sleeve up a few inches, frowns at the writing on her flesh.
SARA: I don’t remember.
ASHFORD: Do you remember why you did it?
SARA: I was trying. To remember.
ASHFORD: But you don’t remember what you were trying to remember.
Sara lets out a hysterical giggle and rakes her fingernails over her scalp.
ASHFORD: There’s no need for that, Sara. I want you to look at me a moment.
She lifts her eyes to his reluctantly.
ASHFORD: You’ve been tapping out a pattern. You repeated it verbally earlier, when you said you wanted to tell me about Miranda. And you’ve written it on your arms.
Sara is stock-still, breathing thinly between her teeth.
ASHFORD: I’ve been going through your testimony, Sara. I noticed what you said to Mel in the lighthouse. “Count the crows.” I think I may know what it means. What that pattern you keep tapping means.
SARA: Don’t.
ASHFORD: I want you to think about school, Sara. I want you to think about sitting on the back steps, the day the message arrived. I want you to think about what you saw.
SARA: I saw Vanessa.
ASHFORD: Before that.
SARA: Trees. And—
ASHFORD: Yes?
SARA: I don’t know. A crow.
ASHFORD: Yes. Try to fix that image in your mind, Sara. Now I want you to think about your dream. The dream you had of Miranda. What did you see in the sky?
SARA: Birds.
ASHFORD: Crows. How many of them?
SARA: Five.
Her fingertip taps out the number against the tabletop. Ashford nods encouragingly.
ASHFORD: Good. And then—
SARA: After the gate. After the dark. There was a crow screaming. And then—and then in the town. The crow that attacked that man.
ASHFORD: One and five and one. One and four and three. What were the four and the three, Sara?
SARA: There were so many, after the flood of dark. But—but then they flew away, and there were four left. And the crows flew up from the trees in the lake and there were too many to count, but then there were three on the gate, waiting. I’m sure. There were three on the gate.
Her knuckles rap three times, sharp and steady against the table, and she locks eyes with Ashford.
SARA: One and five and one. One and four and three. And two crows in the eaves of the house. And five crows when I ran to save Kyle. And two—and two crows—
ASHFORD: Where did you see two crows, Sara? Think. Remember. Please.
SARA: The gate before the beach. After Jeremy and Trina. I went down to the gate by the beach, and I sat down. The sun was setting. The light was red over the water. I remember thinking it looked nothing at all like blood. Jeremy’s blood was darker. It was thicker. And two crows landed on the gate. And then—and then—
Her fingertips twitch. Ashford slides a pen and paper toward her.
ASHFORD: One and five and one. One and four and three. Two and five and two. You can do it, Sara. You can remember.
She begins to write.