It was nine in the morning as Dahlia sat alone on a long red wool and wood pew, five rows from the front of the chapel, five rows from where Abigail Daniels' body lay. Her eyes were following the patterned carpet, in an attempt to focus on something other than the current situation. Her best friend was dead. She'd been missing for two years before her body was found at the bottom of the lake. Tragic, drowning never seemed like the way Abi would've wanted to go. I always thought she'd have ended it herself in front of the whole town. An audience is necessary. She bitterly chuckled to herself, remembering how conceited and attention seeking she was. Dahlia was never very trusting of the Rosewood darling, she never knew if anyone was. The blonde