Murder Road Simone St. James
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ALSO BY SIMONE ST. JAMES
The Haunting of Maddy Clare
An Inquiry Into Love and Death
Silence for the Dead
The Other Side of Midnight
Lost Among the Living
The Broken Girls
The Sun Down Motel
The Book of Cold Cases
Ghost 19
BERKLEY
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Copyright©2024bySimoneSeguin
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LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationData
Names:St James,Simone,author
Title:Murderroad/SimoneSt James
Description:NewYork:Berkley,[2024]
Identifiers:LCCN2023022573(print)|LCCN2023022574(ebook)|ISBN9780593200384(hardcover)|ISBN9780593200407(ebook)
Subjects:LCGFT:Paranormalfiction.|Thrillers(Fiction)|Horrorfiction.|Novels.
Classification:LCCPR91994S726M872024(print)|LCCPR91994S726(ebook)|DDC813/6 dc23/eng/20230523
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccnlocgov/2023022573
LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccnlocgov/2023022574
CoverdesignbyLaurenHarms
CoverimageofroadbyMichaelDuva/GettyImages
BookdesignbyElkeSigal,adaptedforebookbyKellyBrennan
This is a work of fiction Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
pid prh 62 146382206 c0 r0
Cover
Also
by
Simone St. James
Title Page
Copyright Dedication
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-One
ChapterTwenty-Two
ChapterTwenty-Three
ChapterTwenty-Four
ChapterTwenty-Five
ChapterTwenty-Six
ChapterTwenty-Seven
ChapterTwenty-Eight
ChapterTwenty-Nine
ChapterThirty
ChapterThirty-One
ChapterThirty-Two
ChapterThirty-Three
ChapterThirty-Four
ChapterThirty-Five
ChapterThirty-Six
ChapterThirty-Seven
ChapterThirty-Eight
ChapterThirty-Nine
ChapterForty
ChapterForty-One
ChapterForty-Two
ChapterForty-Three
ChapterForty-Four
ChapterForty-Five
Acknowledgments
About the Author
For anyone who was told they’re weird because they read too much. Because you ’ re not, and you don’t.
CHAPTER ONE
ThatJulynightseemedfullofpossibility,withtheemptyhighwaystretchingoutbeforeus Ihadjustwokenupfromanapin thepassenger seat,myheadfoggyas Irememberedwherewewere.Itookoffmyflip-flops andpulledmybarelegs up, crossingthemandrunningmyhandsthroughmyhair.Thedigitalclockonthedashsaiditwastwointhemorning,andtheroad didn’tlooklikethesameroadwe’dbeenonwhenIfellasleep Iwonderedwhereweweregoing TherewasnowayIwould fallasleepagain
“We’relost,”Isaid.
Eddieglancedoveratmefromthedriver’sseat.“Idon’tthinkso.Wetookawrongexit,that’sall.I’llgetusbackonthe interstate”
Ilooked outthe window atthe narrow countryroad, lined withdarktrees, and thoughtwe were definitelylost butthe truthwas,Ididn’tcare.IwasridingatnightinEddieCarter’sPontiac,whichhadafrontseatlikeasofa.ItwasJulyof1995 and I was twenty-six years old I was here because Eddie and I were on our honeymoon We had been married just over twenty-fourhours.
WewereheadedforamotelthatwasaclusterofcabinsontheshoreofLakeMichigan.We’dbudgetedenoughmoneyto stayexactlyfive nights We planned to swim, playScrabble, barbecue burger patties onthe rustycharcoal grill, drinkhalfwarmbeerfromacooler,swimsomemore,thengotobed.
Repeatfivetimes,andthenwe’dmakeourwayhometothesmallapartmentwerentedtogetherinAnnArbor,andEddie wouldgobacktoworkfixingcarsandI’dgotomyjobatthebowlingalley.We’dbothgotoworkeveryday,thenwe’dcome homeandhavedinnerthatwasprobablyoneofsixkindsofsandwich,andthenwe’dgotobed Repeateveryday,forever IglancedoveratEddie.Hewasfrowning,concentratingontheroad.Hisbrownhairhadgrownoutsinceheleftthearmy, thoughhe still keptitshort. He was wearinga lightgrayT-shirtand wornjeans. He wasn’ta huge man, buthe was sleekly muscled, and his biceps were hard under the sleeves of his T-shirt, his physical presence at odds with his quiet, studious expression.Attwenty-sevenhewasayearolderthanme,thoughheseemedmuchmoremature.AsIlookedatthosebiceps,it hitmeyetagainthatIhadmarriedamaninsteadofaboy.
Married Ihadtotoss the phrases aroundinmyhead,tryingtogetusedtothem I married him We got married Eddie married me I am his wife We are a married couple
Thewordsstillfeltstrange.
“Doyouwantmetopullthemapfromtheglovebox?”Iaskedhim “IthinkIknowwhereweare,”Eddiesaid “Roughly,atleast Somethingaboutthisisfamiliar Ithinkwe’reheadingsouth Thereshouldbeaturnofftogetbackontheinterstate.”
“Areyoutired?”
Thequestionseemedtoamusehim “No”
Right.He’dsleptinall kinds ofweirdplaces,atweirdtimes,while he was overseas.Ididn’tknow the details ofwhat he’ddoneinIraq hedidn’ttalkaboutitmuch.ButI’dseenEddiesayhewasgoingtosleepforexactlyonehour,andthendo it,asifhisbrainhadatimer Itwasoneofhismysteries
Ileanedforwardandturnedontheradio,twistingthedial andwatchingtheneedlemovealongthenumbers Mostofthe stationsaroundherewereofftheairatthistimeofnight,andmuchofthedialwasstatic.Ifinallyfoundsomecountrymusic thatwavered inand outofexistence, like a ghostpassingfromroomto room. “Haunted cowboys,” Isaid as a man’s voice warbledpatchilyintothesilenceofthecar “Deadahundredyears,andstilltryingtodrinkwhiskeyandfindawoman” Eddiesmiled.HewastheonlypersonI’devermetwholikedmyjokes.
“Don’tworry,April,”hesaid,whichwasalittlestrange,becauseIwasn’tworried.OrwasI?
Ilookedoutthewindow again Itwaspitch-darkoutthere,notastreetlightor litwindow insight Athree-quarter moon hunglow and crisp inthe sky. Itwas the kind ofnightthatwasn’tsuffocatinglyhot, butifyousleptwiththe window open, you’d wake up withclammyskinand damp, chilled sheets. You’d staytucked inbed until sunrise, whenitstarted to gethot again
“There’snooneoutthere,”Isaid.“It’slikewelaunchedintospace.” “Nottrue.”Eddiepointed.“There’ssomeonerightthere.”
Sureenough,throughthetreesalightglowed.Low atfirst,thenbrighter,lightinginasmoothflow.Itwasn’ttheflipofa switchoraflashlight Ittookmeamomenttoplaceit,butitseemedmorelikesomeoneturningupakerosenelamp,makingthe flamegohigher.
Was itinside a house? Or someone outside inthe trees? Icouldn’ttell.Iwatchedthe lightas we passedit,turningas it shrankbehindus Ishouldhavefeltcomforted,butIwasn’t
“Whatwasthat?”Iaskedasthecountrymusicontheradiochangedtunes,thenwaftedoutofrangeagain. “Beatsme,”Eddiesaid.“Look,we’llgiveitanothertenminutes.Ifwedon’tseeasign,we’ll Oh,Jesus.”
Iturned backto face front, and Isaw whathe saw Inthe beamofthe headlights was a manatthe side ofthe road A teenager, maybe. He wore a baggyjacketand was walkingslowly, his head down. As our headlights hithis back, he didn’t turn.
Eddieslowedthecarsowedidn’tpasshim,butkepthiminourheadlightbeams “Drunk,doyouthink?”heaskedme Iwatchedthefiguretakeanotherslow,carefulstep Hestilldidn’tturnourway,thoughwemusthavebeentheonlycarto comedownthisroadforalongtime.Onsecondlookhewassmallforaman,andInoticedjeansthatflaredatthebottom. “Ithinkthat’sawoman,”Isaid.
“Couldbe”Eddiekeptthecaratacrawl,inchingbehindher Therewassomethingstrangeaboutthewayshedidn’tturn, buttherewasalsosomethingpatheticaboutit.“Shecouldstillbedrunk,”Eddiesaid.
“Maybe,”Isaid.
“Shemightneedhelp Shouldwestop?”
Ithoughtaboutthelightwe’dpassedbehindus,andsomethingcoldtouchedmyspine.“Ithinksheneedshelp.”
“Allright.Rolldownyourwindow.”
IcrankedthewindowdownasEddiepulledupbesidethefigure Heleanedacrossmeasthecarslowlyrolled,hisvoice soundingfriendlyandauthoritative “Hithere Doyouneedhelp?”hecalledoutmywindow
Forthefirsttimethefigurepausedandliftedherhead.Itwasawomanwithbrownhaircutshort,exposingherearsandthe backofherneckwhilebangsfelloveroneeye.Herskinwaspale,andIcouldseeafaintsprayoffrecklesacrossthebridgeof hernose
Shestoppedwalkingandturnedourway,squaringhershouldersasifshe’djustnoticedus.Shedidn’tspeak.
“Doyouneedsomehelp?”Eddieaskedagain.“Wecandropyousomewhere.”
The womanlooked atme Igave her a smile and a wave Ihoped itmade her feel better Alotofpeople thoughtIwas pretty theyusedtheword pretty,not beautiful.Iwashighschoolyearbookkindofpretty,notthekindofbeautifulthatmade mencrazy.Still,beforeEddieI’dbeenaskedoutallthetime.There’snoaccountingfortaste.
“Youcangetin,”Itoldthewoman Orgirl?Itwashardtotellinthedark “We’renicepeople,Ipromise”
Thegirlhadfixedhergazeonme,asifEddiewasn’tthere.“Ishouldn’t,”shesaid.Hervoicewassoftandlow,likeshe wasmakinganeffort.
Ofcourseshewaswary.Itwasthemiddleofthenight.Thegirlwoveinplace,andIputmyhandonmycardoorhandle, thinkingImightgetoutandhelpher Eddieputhishandonmyknee,haltingme Ilookedathim.Heshookhishead.
Stayingwhere Iwas,Iturnedbacktothe girl.“We’re headingfor the Five Pines Resort,” Isaid,givingthe name ofthe cheap motel Eddie and Iwere goingto “We tooka wrongturnoffInterstate 75 I’mApril and this is Eddie Eddie Carter
We’remarried Justmarried”
Whetherthegirltookallofthisinornotwasanyone’sguess.Shewasstilllookingatme asifshe’dseenmebefore,or maybe as ifshe was memorizingme for later. She was wearinga jacketthatwas too bigfor her and fell pasther hips, the sleevestoolong ItmighthavebeenArmygreen Shepulledittighteraroundherandlookeddowntheroadbehindus
Ifollowedher gaze,leaningmyheadoutofmywindow.There was noone else onthe road,butIthoughtIhearda soft sound.Leavesshufflingalongtheground.Theairwasoddlycold.Iblinkedintothedarkness,tryingtomatchamovementto thesound Therewereleavesstirring,liftingasifinabreathofwind AndyettherewasnowindthatIcouldfeel “Areyouokay?”EddieaskedthegirlasIstaredattheleaves.“Areyousick?”
Thegirlkepthergazefixedontheroad.Maybeshewaswatchingtheleaves;Icouldn’ttell.Hervoicesoundedlikeitwas comingfromtheotherendofatelephoneline “No,I’mnotsick”
Theleavessettled,andIturnedbacktoher.“What’syourname?”
The girl paused again. She still seemed reluctant, butitwould be wrongto justdrive awayand leave her. She was all aloneanditwasthemiddleofthenight.Wherewasshegoing?
IthoughtIheardtheshuffleofleavesagain,faintontheroadbehindus IwassuddenlygladIhadn’tgottenoutofthecar Strandedgirlornot,Ifelttheurgetoleave,todriveasfastaspossible.Iwantedtogetoutofhere.
Thegirl’sfingerscurledintothefabricofhercoat,clutchingittighter.Shebitherbottomlipbriefly,stilllookingdownthe road,andthensheseemedtocometoadecision “I’lltakearide Thankyou”
Sheopenedthedoortothebackseatandgotin.Shemovedslowly,likeanoldlady,andIwonderedifshewashurt.She didn’t have a bagor evena purse. She leaned into the backseat and brieflyclosed her eyes, as if she’d beenonher feet forever
“What’syourname?”IaskedheragainasEddiepulledofftheshoulderandontotheroadagain.
“RhondaJean.”
“That’sanicename Whereareyougoing?”
RhondaJeanseemedtopause,asifthinkingaboutthisorchangingherfirstanswer “ColdlakeFalls”Sheclosedhereyes again,restingherheadagainstthebackoftheseat.“It’safewmilesahead.”
“I’veheardofthatplace,”Eddiesaid.“Ihavenoideawhere,though.”
Iopened the glove boxand pulled outthe map, foldingand refoldingthe complicated squares and squintingatitinthe darkness.“IsitonthewaytotheFivePinesResort?”IaskedEddie.
“Noidea,butI’msuretherewillbesomeonetheretoaskfordirections.”
“Dependshowbigatownitis,”IsaidtoEddie,stillturningthemapinmyhands “It’slate Maybenothing’sopen Ifwe getlucky,we’llfindagasstation.”
“Idon’tthinkit’sthatsmall,”Eddiesaid.“Therehastobesomething.”
“There’sahospitalthere,”RhondaJeansaid
EddieandIbothwentsilent Ifeltatrickleofalarmmoveupmyspine Ilookedatthegirlinthebackseat.Shewasmotionless,hereyesstillclosed.Herhandsclutchedherjacketshut. “Didsomeonehurtyou?”Iaskedher,myvoicelow.
RhondaJeanwincedatthat,thoughshedidn’topenhereyes “I’msorry”
Inthedriver’sseat,Eddie’svoicewasaslowandcalmasmyown.“Doyouneedadoctor,RhondaJean?”
“Idon’tknow.”RhondaJean’seyesblinkedopen,andforasecondtheywereunfocused.“Idon’tthinkadoctorwillhelp.” Iletthemapslidefrommyhands,downtomyfeet Ikeptmygazeonthegirlinthebackseat Everythingbecameclearand still inmyhead.Iknew now thatthiswaswhyshehadlookedatmeatfirstlikesherecognizedme.Itwasbecauseshedid. We’dneverseeneachotherbefore,butwerecognizedeachother.Womenlikeusrecognizedeachotherallthetime.
Two things happened atonce WhenIthoughtaboutitlater, Iwas sure aboutit The timingwas veryclear Boththings happenedatthesametime,likeaswitchhadbeenflippedinmylife,changingitforever. ThefirstthingwasthatIreachedintothebackseatandtouchedtheedgeofRhondaJean’sjacket.Igentlypulleditopen.It wasunfastened,onlywrappedaroundherlikearobe,andhergripwaslimpnowandunresisting.
Insidethejacket,onthefrontofhershirt,Isawtheblackwetnessofblood
Atthesametime,apairofheadlightsappearedoutthebackwindow,acarontheroadamilebehindus,lightpinpointsin thedark.
IlookedfromthebackwindowtoRhondaJean’sface Hereyeswereopen,focusednow,andshewasstaringatme
CHAPTER TWO
Forasecond,IjustlookedatRhondaJean’spaleface,seeingthepainandexhaustionetchedthere.MaybeIshouldhavefelt surprised.Ididn’tknow.IonlyknewthatIbypassedsurpriseandfeltthingsIdidn’tknowexistedclickinmybrainatthose words
I’m sorry He’s coming.
“April?”ThiswasEddieinthedriver’sseat.Hisvoicesoundedstern,armystern.Heknewsomethingwaswrong.
“Rhonda Jeanis injured,” Itoldhim,still turnedaroundinmyseatandlookingatthe girl “Reallybad Under her coat She’sbleedingeverywhere.”
Eddieswore,justtheoneharshword,andthecarspedup.“Shesaidthere’sahospitalupaheadinColdlakeFalls.”
MygazemovedpastRhondaJeantothebackwindowagain Theheadlightswerestillthere Theyweregettingbigger,as ifthecarbehindushadaccelerated.“Eddie,gofaster.”
“Thecarbehindus?”
“Yes”
We sped up evenmore, Eddie fastand careful inthe pitchdark, lookingfor the signs for Coldlake Falls The blood on Rhonda’schestandstomachwasmoving,soakingthicklyintothefabricofhershirtanddownward.Icouldseeitstainingher jeans.
Noneofthiswasreal Itshouldn’tbereal ButIknewitwas I’dbeeninthepassengerseatofacaroncebefore,beggingthedrivertogofaster. Please, faster. Along,longtimeago. “Whoishe?”IaskedRhondaJean.
“Idon’tknow,”shesaid,hervoicearasp “Howdidyougettothesideoftheroad?” “Iwalked.”
“Fromwhere?”
Sheseemedtofadeoutalittle,thenbackinagainbeforesheanswered.“Idon’tknow.”
“Hefoundyousomewhere?”Iaskedher.Igesturedtoherbody.“Andhedidthis?”
RhondaJeanshookherhead,butIwasn’tsureifthatwasaresponsetomyquestion.“Itdoesn’tevenhurt,”shesaid.“Is thatweird?”
Theheadlightsbehindushadreceded,thencomeforwardagain.Asifthecarhadseenusaccelerateandhadaccelerated tomatchus.Wewerealreadyspeedingthroughtheblack,emptynight,butEddiemusthaveseenwhatIsaw intherearview mirror,becauseIheardthePontiac’sengineopenmoreaswewentfaster
Ireached backand grasped Rhonda Jean’s hand. Itwas ice-cold, slickwithblood. “We’re takingyouto the hospital,” I said.
Herexpressiondidn’tflicker “Sure,okay” “Buttellmewhathappenedtoyou.Stayawakeandtellme.”
Her hand moved faintlyinmine, but I gripped harder and didn’t let her go. “He’s followingus,” she whispered, as if someonecouldoverhear “HeknowsI’minthiscar”
“Who?Whoishe?”
“ColdlakeFalls,”Eddiesaidfromthefrontseatasasignflashedpastourspeedingcar.“Fiveminutes,tops.”
Rhonda Jean’s hand twitched in mine again, and her chest moved up and down. Breath gasped fromher throat, and I realized she was startingto panic “Calmdown, baby,” Isaid to her, the termofendearment springingfrommylips out of nowhere.“Justbecalm.We’reaheadofhim.We’regettingtothehospital.We’regoingtowin.”
Shedidn’tbelieveme.Partofherwantedto,butshedidn’t.“I’mnotgoingtomakeit,”shesaid,gasping.
“Youare It’sjustalittleblood They’llsewyouup,goodasnew Holdonandtellmewhathappened”
But she shook her head. There was something inside her mind, something immense that cast a giant shadow over everything,likeamonsterinahorrormovie.
“Isthisreal?”sheasked
“It’sreal,baby,”Isaid.“It’sreal,andwe’regoingtogetthroughit.Justholdon.”
Incredibly,theheadlightsbehindusweregainingonus,theirbrightnessbeginningtofloodthecar.“Jesus,thisguyisfast,” Eddiesaid.
Theheadlightsgotbrighter,brighter Isquintedintothem,tryingtoseethevehicleorthemanbehindthewheel AllIsaw waslightandpartofagrille hewasinatruckofsomekind,highofftheground. “Eddie,”Isaid.
“Iknow Theturnoff’supahead”
Anothersignflashedpastus COLDLAKEFALLS andwithoutdroppingspeedEddietooktheturn,flyingusoffthetwo-lane road.Heglancedbackatthetruckandsworebeforeturningbacktotheroadagain.Forthefirsttime,helookedshaken,pale. I’dneverseenhimlooklikethatbefore
StillgrippingRhondaJean’shand,Iturnedandwatchedthroughthebackwindowasthetruck itwassomekindoflarge, darkthing,gleaminglikeabeetle spedpasttheturnoffandintothenight.Thenitwasgone. Secondslaterwewerebathedinlightagain,thistimefromthestreetlightsofColdlakeFalls
He was avoiding the light,Ithought He let us go because he didn’t want to be seen in the light What did Eddie see? Igrippedthecold,bloodyhandinmine.“We’realmostatthehospital,RhondaJean.Hangon.” Therewasnoanswer.Thegirlinthebackseathadpassedout.
—
Thehospitalwassmall,afour-storybrownbrickbuildinglitwithfluorescentsbeneathaconcreteoverhang Iraninsideand beggedthepersonattheemergencydesktosendsomeoneoutas EddiepulledRhondaJean’s unconscious bodyfromthe car. He picked her up beneaththe shoulders and the knees, like Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind. When the EMTs took RhondaJeanfromhimandputheronastretcher,thefrontofhisT-shirtwassmearedwithgore
Iwasbloody,too.ThehandthathadgrippedRhondaJean’swascoveredinblood,andinmyhasteI’dsmeareditonmy olive green shorts and my white tee. The bloody handprints looked like I’d wrestled someone to the ground. I had blood darkeninganddryingundermyfingernails Myflip-flopswerestillonthefloorofthefrontpassengerseatsomewhere,andmy feetwerebare.
Throughthe glass doors we could see a nurse behind the emergencydesk, staringatus. She picked up the large brown handsetofherdeskphoneandstartedtodial,hergazeneverleavingus
ThatwaswhenIrealized:EddieandIlookedlikemurderers.
“Shit,” Eddie said, lookingdownathimself. He glanced atthe car, whichwas still running, thenlooked atme. “April, shouldwerun?”
“What?”Theshockmusthaveshownonmyface Notbecauseofwhathe’dsaid,butbecauseIwasthinkingthesamething WecouldgetintothePontiacanddriveawayasfastaswecould.Wecouldfloorit.Whowouldcomeafterus,andhow longwouldittakebeforetheystarted?Howfarawaycouldwebebythen?
“Forgetit,”Eddiesaid,misreadingmyexpression “ForgetIsaidanything”
“It’sfine,”Isaid,butmymindwastickingover.Wecoulddrivefarther upthepeninsula,thendoublebackdowntoAnn Arbor.Wecouldbehomebythetimethesunwasup.Noonehereknewournames.We’dhavetocleanthecar,orbetteryet, getridofitaltogether
That would be wrong,Itoldmyself.Becausesomeonehadkilledthatgirl,RhondaJean.Thepersoninthetruckhadkilled her.Iwassureofit.
Butallmypanickedbodyknewwasthatthekillerwasn’tme IlookedatEddieagain.Hewaswatchingme,hisgazeintent,andIhadnoideawhathewasthinking.Iopenedmymouth, butIdidn’tknowwhatIwasgoingtosay. Itdidn’tmatter,becauseitwasalreadytoolate Thepolicewerepullingin
CHAPTER THREE
IneverthoughtI’dgetmarried.Mychildhoodwasa1970snightmare,filledwithdark,garishcolorsanddeepshadows,like Rosemary’s Baby.OnceIgotoutofthatchildhood,Ineverlookedback.Bytwelve,Iwasbasicallyanadult,lookingoutfor mymotherandme AtfifteenIlearnedtowearthesamehairstylesandthesamemakeupthatalltheothergirlswore Iblended in,exceptforthefactthatIknewhowtopackeverythingIownedinasinglebagwithinforty-fiveminutes,knewhowtogetto thebusstationinthemiddleofthenightifIhadto,knewhowtointroducemyselfunderanewname.
Ateighteen,Iwasalone.
Evenwithout Mom, Istill moved around, never stayinglongenoughinone place to be too noticeable SouthCarolina, Illinois, Michigan. I got jobs waiting tables and answering phones. Restaurant managers had no problemputting me at the hostessstand,becauseIhadthekindoffacethatwasperfectforit.Pretty,pleasant,mostlyforgettable.Idated aprettygirl myagewasexpectedtodateorshewouldattractattention butIneverletanyonegettooclose Iwasn’ttheclingygirlfriend, askingwhetherwewereserious,askingwhetherhewantedmetomovein.TherewereamillionofmeinAmerica.Idoubted eventheboysIdatedrememberedmeafterawhile.
All I wanted was to survive I certainly never dreamed of finding a husband or children, of settling down in a house somewhere Iwantedtobeleftalone,expectedit
InAnnArbor,Igotajobatabowlingalley,servinghalf-coldhamburgersandstalechipsatthesnackbar.Imovedinwith roommates Ifoundinthe classifieds,inanoldhouse thatwas rentingfor nexttonothing.The place smelledlike potsmoke, Doritos, and beer, and the local pizza place knew our order byheart Roommates rotated through, accompanied byvarious boyfriends, girlfriends, and other hangers-on. The TVwas almost always on, withsomeone sittinginfront of it. Late-night movies, Sesame Street,rerunsof The Rockford Files,rerunsof Knight Rider, Baywatch, The X-Files,andmorerecently,the O J Simpsontrial inall ofits endless droning whatever was on,someone was watching,halfpayingattention The house hadadissociatedlackofcaring,acompleteennui,thatsuitedmeperfectly.Nooneeveraskedmequestionsorwantedtohang out.
OneSaturdayinFebruary,myroommatesweregoneandIhadthehousetomyself Dressinginmybedroom,IrealizedI’d leftmyfavoriteT-shirtinthedryer,twostoriesdowninthebasement.Wearingonlyjeansandanavybluelacebra,Iwalked outofmybedroomintothehallway.
There was a man standing there young, muscled, fit enough to tackle me. I was too startled to notice that instead of attackinghestoodfrozen,staringasIcameoutinmybra,horrified Iscreamed Thestrangemancriedout:“Sorry!”andran downthestairs.
ThatwashowImetEddieCarter.
WhenIhadrecoveredandputonasweatshirt,Ifoundhiminthekitchen,lookingmiserable Hewasafriendofoneofmy roommates Greg,ormaybeGary.EddiehadjustcomebackfromIraq,andGregorGarytoldhimtocomeover,tojustwalk in,becauseGregorGarywouldbehome.Instead,therewasnoonehomebutmeinmybra,andEddiewasreally,reallysorry aboutit
Wetalkedforhalfanhour,standingthereinthekitchen.Whenitwasclearhewasn’tacreep,heaskedmeout.Isaidyes, butIthought: He’s way too nice. There’s no way I’ll sleep with him.
ThatwasFebruary NowitwasJuly,andweweremarried
Ilookedatmyhusband’sfaceinthelightsofthesolopolicecarthatpulledintotheparkinglot,theredandblueflickering over Eddie’s features.ByEddie’s ownadmission,he’dnever hadmuchluckwithwomen,whichamazedme.He hada nice jawandgreatcheekbonesandgray-blueeyeswithdarklashes.Hishairwasbrownandusuallytousled,hehadtoshaveevery morningor get scruffonhis cheeks, and the armyhad givenhima bodyInever, ever got tired of He didn’t talkmuch, an attributeIcametorealizewasbecausehewaspainfullyshy.ThelongerI’ddatedhim,themoreI’drealizedthatEddiewasthe world’sbest-keptsecret,manwise.Ineverhadtofightanyoneforhim.Itwasinexplicable,refreshing,andterrifying. Hisexpressionhadgonecarefullyblankas auniformedpolicemangotoutofthe car Eddie glanceddownathis T-shirt, thenatme.
“April,”hesaid.
“Iknow,”Ireplied “Whatcanwedo?”
Eddie’sgazemovedtotheapproachingpoliceman.Icouldn’tquitereadwhatwasbehindhiseyes Iwasstilllearningall ofEddie’sexpressions butheseemedtobeturningthoughtsinhishead.Thenhelookedatmeagain,andsomethingseemed toregister.“Yourfeet.”
BeforeIcouldsayanythingaboutmybarefeet,hereachedpasttheopenpassengerdoor,lookingformyflip-flops “Hey,”camethepoliceman’svoice,alarmed.
“Eddie,becareful,”Isaid.
ThemusclesofEddie’sbacktensed,andthenheunfoldedhimselfbackoutofthecar,aflip-flopineachhand Hedropped themonthepavementnexttomyfeetwithaslap.HeheldmyhandtohelpmekeepbalancedasIslidmyfeetintothem.
“Don’ttellhimaboutthetruck,”hesaid,hisvoicelowsothatonlyIcouldhear.
“Whynot?”Iwhispered “Justdon’t.”
Whatdidthatmean?IhidmyconfusionbylookingdownasIscrunchedthethongofeachflip-flopbetweenmytoes.ThenI lookedup
The policemanwas alone He was about thirty, withlight brownskinand darkbrowneyes Tall and lean, witha gold weddingringonhislefthand.Thenightshiftpatrolguy,summonedbytheERnurse.
“Hithere,”hesaid,pausingafewfeetfromus.Hisfeetwerespreadslightly,andonehandwasonhisbelt,aposethatwas anythingbutcasual “Ihearyoubroughtayoungladytothehospital”
“Yes,wedid,”Isaid.
The policemanlooked atme withmybloodstains, thenEddie withhis bloodstains and armybulk. He looked atour car, parkedhaphazardlybehindus,theenginerunning,thebackdoorstillgapingopenwhereEddiehaddraggedoutRhondaJean Therewasbloodsmearedontheinsideofthedoor.
There was a second in which the policeman obviously didn’t know what to do. This close to the lake and all of the vacationers,Iimaginedhistraininghadmostlytodowithdrunkkids,summer break-ins,andloudpartiesthatrantoolate It was doubtful he’d come across a stabbed girl and her two bloodyrescuers before Still, the uncertaintylasted onlybriefly beforehesaidinacalmvoice,“You’llexcusemeifItakeasimpleprecaution.”
He walked to the driver’s side ofthe car, leaned in, and turned offthe car, takingthe keys and pocketingthem. Thenhe camebackaroundthecartous
Hepulledanotebookfromhispocketandflippeditopen,takingoutapen.“Whatareyournames?”heasked,stillkeeping hisdistance.
“EddieCarter,”Eddiesaid “Thisismywife,April” “Delray,”Isaidasthepolicemanwroteinhisnotepad.“MynameisactuallyAprilDelray.Ihaven’thadtimetochangeit yet.”
Thepolicemanlookedatmyweddingring,thenupatme,questioning “We’rejustmarried,”Isaidintothesilence.
“WewereonourwaytotheFivePinesResortforourhoneymoon,”Eddieadded.
“Yourhoneymoon,huh?”thepolicemansaid.Hemadeanothernote,writingcarefully.“Yousaidit’scalledFivePines?” “Yes,”Eddiesaid
Thepolicemanwrotethatdown.“Okay.MynameisOfficerSyed.Maybewecantalkinside?”Hegesturedbehindhimto thehospital.
Hewasstillnervous Hewashidingitwell,buthisstancewastense,andthenotebookwasgrippedtoohardinhishand Hewasalonepatrolmanwithnopartner,facedwithtwopeoplewhomightbemurderers,andoneofthosepeoplewasvery bigandstrong.
Assert your authority,Iwantedtotellhim Act like you are already in control That’s how you dominate someone bigger than you.
Instead,Ismiledathimandsaid,“Sure,Officer.Leadtheway.”
Thelookhegavemewaswaryandsurprisedatthesametime “Afteryou,”hesaid EddieandIwalkedintothehospital,whereOfficerSyeddirectedusdownahallway,awayfromtheER.Wesawnoone exceptthedutynurseandoneorderly,bothofwhomstaredatus withoutbotheringtohideit.This was asmall hospital ina smalltownatthreeinthemorning,andexceptforRhondaJean,weweretheonlyoneshere OfficerSyedledustoaroomwithasofa,aTV,andtwochairs astaffbreakroom.Hedirectedustothesofaandsatin oneofthechairs.
“DoyouhavesomeID?”heaskedpolitely,pullingouthisnotebookagain.
We handed our driver’s licenses over, and thenI sat withmyhands inmylap I tried not to lookdowntoo often, so I wouldn’tkeepstaringattheblood.
“AnnArbor,”theofficersaidwhenhehadtakenouraddressdown.“That’sawaysfromhere.”
“Yes,”Eddiesaid “Itoldyou,we’reonourhoneymoon” “HaveyoueverbeentoColdlakeFallsbefore?”
“No.”
“Neverpickeduphitchhikersaroundhere?”
Isnappedmygazetotheofficer,buthewasn’tlookingatme.HewaslookingatEddie.
“Hitchhikers?”Eddieasked,bemused.“No,wedon’tpickuphitchhikers.”
“Never?”theofficerasked “Never”
“Ifyouhaven’tbeentoColdlakeFalls before,whatbrings youherefor your honeymoon?As opposedto,say,anywhere else?”
Eddieglancedatme OfficerSyedfollowedhisgaze,asifrememberingIwasintheroom
“Therewasanadinthelocalpaper,”Isaidasbothmenstaredatme.“Inthetravelsection.FortheFivePinesResort.We thoughtitlookednice.”
“Wasthatgirlahitchhiker?”EddieaskedOfficerSyed Theofficerfrownedathim.“What?”
“Thatgirl.RhondaJean.”
“Isthathername?”
“Soshesaid”
NowOfficerSyedwasstaringatEddieagainasifhe’dsaidsomethingwrong.“Idon’tknowifshewasahitchhiker.Was shehitchhikingwhenyoufoundher?”
“Idon’tknow Shewasstandingbythesideoftheroad”
“Whatroad?”
“Idon’tknowthenameofit.Thetwo-laneroadthatleadsofftheinterstate.”
OfficerSyedblinkedatEddiecalmly “Shewasstandingthereinthemiddleofthenightasyoudrovedowntheroad” “Yes,”Eddiesaid.
“OnyourwaytotheFivePinesResort.”
“Yes”
TherewasaheavysilenceasOfficerSyedrubbedthesideofhisnoseandlookeddownathisnotebookagain.Hewasnot inchargeofthissituation.Itfeltlikesomethingbadwasabouttohappen.Likesomethingbadwasalreadyhappening.Which, ofcourse,itwas.
“Okay,”OfficerSyedsaidatlast,pickinguphispen “Ithinkweshouldstartfromthebeginning” Therewasabriefknockonthebreakroomdoor,andthenitopened.Twomencamein.Onewaswearingabrownsuitthat wasgrievouslyrumpled.Theother,oddly,waswearinganavybluewarm-upsuitwithwhitestripesdownthesides.Itzipped uptohischin
Thewarm-upsuitmanwasobviouslyincharge,becausehespokefirst
“OfficerSyed,weappreciateyourhelp,”hesaid “We’lltakeitfromhere.”
OfficerSyedlookedstartled,buthestayedinhischair.“Excuseme?”
“Statepolice,”theoneintherumpledsuitsaidtoEddieandme Hepulledabadgefromhispocketandshowedittous, thenturnedtotheofficer.“We’vebeencalledintotakethisover.You’renolongerneeded.”
“I’llhavetotalktomysupervisor,”OfficerSyedsaid,stillplantedinhisseat.“I’mnotauthorizedtoleavethisscene.” Theyarguedbackandforth,butthemaninthewarm-upsuitignoredthem HelookedatEddieastheothertwotalkedpast hisshoulder.Andthenhelookedatme.
Hewasfiftyish,maybe.Itwashardtotell.Hisfacewasunlinedbuthishair wassaltandpepper,cutshorttohisscalp. His eyes were darkblue His gaze fixed onme, takinginmybloodyclothes, myflip-flops, mymessyblond hair His stare wasn’tsexual,butIfeltexposedanyway,andmygutgaveafamiliarsqueezeasIfeltspikysweatonthebackofmyneck. Fightorflight,theycalledit.Anold,darkhumaninstinct.Minewasparticularlyhoned.
Beware of this one Get away if you can
OfficerSyedhadrisenfromhischairandwasreluctantlymovingtowardthedoor Hispresencehadn’tbeenparticularly comforting,butcomparedtothesetwomen,Irealizedhe’dbeenrelativelyharmless.IriskedaglanceatEddieandsawthathe wasstaringatthemaninthewarm-upsuitwhilethemanstaredatme.Eddie’seyeswerehard.
Finally, Officer Syed was gone, the door closingbehind him The roomwentquiet Iwondered ifIshould take Eddie’s hand,nexttomeonthesofa.Iwonderedifthatwouldbeagoodmoveorabadone. Neithermanhadyetgivenushisname,Irealized. “Isthereaproblem?”Eddiefinallyasked,hisvoicecalm “Sure,there’s a problem,” the maninthe warm-upsuitsaid.“Thatgirl inthe ERjustdied.She hadstabwounds onher chestandstomach.Asofnow,wehaveamurdercase.”
My name,” the man in the warm-up suit said as he sat in Officer Syed’s vacated chair, “is Detective Quentin. This is DetectiveBeam.”
I was making quick calculations Two detectives had appeared in the backwoods of Michigan at three o’clock in the morning Andfast,too RhondaJeanmusthavediedonlyminutesago “Ididn’tseeyourbadge,sir,”IsaidtoQuentin,mytonepolite.
“True,youdidn’t,”QuentinsaidasBeam,chairless,fadedintothebackgroundandleanedagainstthewall.Beam,atleast, lookedlikeamanwhohadbeenrousedfrombedinthemiddleofthenightandhadputonwhateverhadbeenfoldedoverthe backofthenearestchairinthedark.Quentindidn’tevenlooktired.
“Dostatepolicehavedetectives?”Iasked,politeagain.
Quentin didn’t blink “What would you know, young woman, about the structural and hierarchical nature of the state police?”
Inarrowedmyeyes,squintingathim.“Nothing,Iguess.”
“Isee AndifIranyournameinmyfiles,miss,whatmightIfind?”
“Stopinterrogatingmywife,”Eddiebrokein
“Nothing,”Isaid,replyingtoDetectiveQuentin.Itwastrue he’dfindnothing.Mymotherhadmadesureofit,andsohad I.
“Hey,”Eddiesaid,leaningforward Hewasgettingangry Heangledhimselfsohisarmybulkwasperfectlyclear “Ifyou haveaquestion,Detective,justaskit.”
Quentinturnedhisdarkblueeyestomyhusband,asifnoticinghimforthefirsttime.HetookineverydetailaboutEddiein silence,andthenhesaid,“You’reobviouslymilitary Whichbranch?”
“Army,”Eddiesaid.
“YouservedinIraq?”
“Yes Isthatyourquestion?”
“No,itisnot.Thereisnoknifeinyourcar.Whereisit?Didyouthrowitoutthewindow?”
Icouldhearmymother’sadviceinmyhead. Don’t talk. Get a lawyer. Itdidn’tmatterthatwewereinnocent infact,that madeitevenmoreimportant.
ButEddieandIcouldn’taffordalawyer,evenifweknewoneinthistown Therewasnochancewecouldgethigh-quality legalrepresentationatthreeo’clockinthemorningwithnomoneytopaythebill.
“I don’t know where the knife is, because my wife and I didn’t murder that girl,” Eddie said, unfazed by Quentin’s question “Wefoundheratthesideoftheroadandbroughthertothehospital Canwegonow?”
DetectiveQuentinjuststaredathimwiththoseuncannyeyes.Behindhim,DetectiveBeamwasmotionless,watchingand listening.HeonlyglancedbrieflyatEddieandme.ThenhisgazewentbacktoQuentinandstayedthere,fixedandblank.
“Youcannotleavetown,”Quentinsaidslowly,asifhewasjustnowmakingadecision “Notyet Wehavesomethingsto sortouthere.Wewanttoquestionyouindaylightandhaveyoushowuswhereyoupickedthisyounggirlup.WasitonAtticus Linethatyoufoundher?”
“What?”Eddiesaid
“AtticusLine Theroad”
“Ihavenoideawhatroaditwas.Wewerelost.”
“I see,” Quentin said calmly. “These are the things we’re going to get to the bottomof, Mr. Carter. I’mgoing to have officersdriveyoutoaplacenearbywhereyoucangetafewhours’rest I’mafraidwe’reobligedtokeepyourcarfornow” Hewaspolitenow,becausehewantedustodosomething.Hewantedminimalargument.
Wehadnochoice.Icouldseeit,andsocouldEddie.
“Fine,then,”Eddiesaid,speakingforbothofus “We’llgo”
Weweredriveninasquadcartoaneighborhoodinthedarkcenteroftown.Weweretoldthatthehousewepulledupto wasalocalbed-and-breakfast,andthatwecouldhavearoom.WeweregivenoursuitcasesfromEddie’scar.BythenI wastooexhaustedtoaskmanyquestions
Thewomanwhocametothedoorwassomewhereinherforties,withbrownish-blondhairinashorthaircutandglasses thattookupmostofherface.
“This is stupid,”shesaidwithoutpreambletotheofficers whodroppedus off “Youall can’tkeepthemyourself?They couldbemurderers.”
“DetectiveQuentin’s orders,Rose.Rightnow they’rejustwitnesses,”oneofthecops replied,as ifEddieandIweren’t standingthere
Rose looked at our bloodyclothes “Sure Witnesses I get a call fromDetective Quentinat three inthe morningabout witnesses.”Shepointedbehindhertoadoorwayoffherdark,overdecoratedlivingroom.“Yourbedroom’sinthere.Bathroom isdownthehall.Don’tgetbloodonmylinensorI’llbillyouforit.”
“They’ll getpickedupatseven,”oneofthecopssaid “Inthemeantime,there’ll beasquadcarkeepingwatchoutside” Hewassayingthisforourinformationasmuchasforhers.Themessage:Don’trun.
“Asquadcarwithoneofyousleepinginit,morelike,”Rosesaiddismissively.“LikeIwasn’tmarriedtoapolicemanfor tenyears”
Their bickeringwasgivingmeaheadache.IpickedupmysuitcaseandwalkedtothebedroomRosehaddirectedusto, Eddiefollowing.
Thebedroomwaslinedwithshelvesfilledwithdecorations:figurines,dolls,potsoffabricflowers,doilies,chinarabbits andcats Thecurtainsonthesinglewindowwereskyblueandpuffy,thebeddingskybluetomatch Thecomforterwasquilted witha fringe like the hemofa promdress,andthe throw pillows were coveredinwhite lace.Above the headboardhunga gilt-framedphotoofPrincessDianawearingaformalwhitedress,acrownplacedinherhair.
Normally, Eddie and I would make jokes about a room like this, but not tonight Within ten silent minutes we were changed,ourbloodyclothesdroppedintoaheapinthecorneroftheroom.IgotintotheridiculousbedandEddiegotinbehind me,hischestagainstmybackandhiskneesdrawnupagainstthebacksofmine.Irememberedthatwefitlikethis,thathewas becomingachinglyfamiliartome
“April,”hesaidsoftlyagainstthebackofmyneckwhenweweresettled.“Weneedtotalk.”
Ifwehadn’tpickedupRhondaJean,ifwe’dcontinuedon,we’dbeattheFivePinesrightnow,driftingoffafterourfirst roundofofficialhoneymoonsex
Butifwehadn’tpickedupRhondaJean,shewouldhavediedbythesideoftheroad.Shewouldn’thavehadanyoneto holdherhand,evenbriefly.She’dbelyingabandonedandunknowninthedark,alone.Goingcold.
“Isupposewedo,”IsaidtoEddie.
Iwonderedwhathewouldbringupfirst
Thefactthatwewereintrouble,maybe Thefactthatagirlwedidn’tknowwas dead.Thefactthatwehadn’ttoldanyoneaboutthetruckthatfollowedusdownAtticusLine.Thefactthatthepolicehadsaid theywerecomingtopickusupagainatseveno’clock,onlyafewhoursaway.
“Thankyoufornottellingthemaboutthetruck,”Eddiesaid “Okay.ButIdon’tknowwhy.”
Hewasquietforalongminute,breathingagainstmyskin.“Whenwemadetheturnoffanditcameupbehindus whenit passedus Isawsomething”
Hismusclesweretenseagainstme,hardasgranite.Hewasholdinghisbodyperfectlystill.
Irememberedthathe’dlookedbackas the truckpassed,andwhenhe’dturnedbacktothe roadhe’dappearedshocked “Didyouseethedriver?”
He laytense and silentfor another longbeat, and thenhe letouta breath. “No. Idon’treallyknow whatIsaw. Maybe nothing YouknowthatIseethingssometimes”
Iputmyhandoverhisonmywaist,strokedthebacksofhishardknuckles.“Youusedto.Thedoctorssaythatshouldgo awaywithtime.”
“Yeah,theysaidthat Andithasn’thappenedinawhile”
Hedidn’tseemlikehewasgoingtocontinue,soIrepeated,“Eddie.Whatdidyousee?”
“Agirl.”Hisvoicewassoquietthatifhewasn’trightnexttome,hisbreathagainstmyear,Iwouldn’thaveheard.“Agirl withlonghair,inthebedofthetruckasitdroveaway”
“Inthetruckbed?”Iblinkedinthedarkness.“Wasshelyingdown?”
“Shewassittingup.Herhandsgrippingtheside.Shewasateenager,maybe.Itwashardtotellbecauseshewasunclear, fadinginandout.It’shardtoexplain.Shewas...”Heclearedhisthroat.“Shewasstaringatus.”
Damnit Mymind raced They’d prescribed medicationfor Eddie after his discharge, buthe’d runouta longtime ago We’dhopedhisproblemswereover.Butagirl sittinginthatspeedingtruckbed wasitpossible?Ifshewasreal,whydid Eddiethinkshewasfadinginandout?
“Youthinkyoureallysawher?”Iaskedhim “Idon’tknow.”
“Okay.”Ikeptmyvoicecalm.Iranmyfingersoverhisknucklesagain.“Itwasjustashadow.Therewasnoneedtotell thepoliceaboutthat Butthetruck ” “Idon’twanttotellthemaboutthetruck.”
“Thetruckwasreal,Eddie.Isawit.”
“So what?” His voice was rough “We didn’t see who was driving We didn’t see a make and model We didn’t see a licenseplate There’snothingtotell” “Itwaschasingus.”
“Wasit?”
I was quiet The truck behind us had sped up I had seen the lights get bigger Hadn’t I? Rhonda Jean had said, He’s coming.
ButIhadn’tseenagirlinthetruckbed,fadinginandoutandstaringatus.
“Eddie,” I said, “they think we did it If we saw someone else, someone who might have seen something or done something,wehavetotellthem.Theythinkwe’remurderers.”
Hewasstilltensebehindme.“Thatdetective,Quentin.He’sgoingtoaskquestionsifwetellhim.He’sgoingtothinkI’m crazy Thenhe’sgoingtodigintomyrecords Andhe’sgoingtodigintoyou,too”
“Hewon’tfindanything,”Isaid,thoughmyheartwaspoundingahardbeatinmytemples
“Areyousureaboutthat?Areyouwillingtobeteverythingonit?”WhenIdidn’tanswer,hecontinued,“Heisn’tstupid, andhe’ssomekindofhigher-up.IknowacommandingofficerwhenIseeone.Quentinisabigwigwhocomestoahospitalin themiddleofnowhereatamoment’snoticeatthreeo’clockinthemorning Hekickedoutthelocalguyandtookoverwithin minutes. Minutes. Whatdoyouthinkthatmeans?”
Ipressedmyfingersintomytiredeyesockets.Ididn’twanttocontemplateit,butEddiewasright Ihadto.“Itmeansthis isn’tthefirsttimethishashappened”
“Thatofficer, Syed, asked us ifwe picked up hitchhikers. Itwas his firstquestion. He asked us aboutthatroad. And he wasn’tthe one who called Quentinand his partner in he was surprised whentheyshowed up. April, we’ve walked into a situationhere”
Irubbedmyeyes,thinkingaboutotherdeadgirlslikeRhondaJean.How manywerethere?Whathadhappenedtothem? Eddiewasright.Whenyoulookedathispast,whenyoulookedatmypast ifyoulookedclosely weweren’tasinnocentas weseemed.IfDetectiveQuentinwasunderpressuretofindamurderer,hecouldmakeacaseforpinningitonusifhewanted to Itdependedonhowdeterminedhewas
“Doyouhaveanythingyouwanttotellme?”IaskedEddie.
“Youmean,doIdriveseveralhoursoutofAnnArborandkillhitchhikersinmysparetime?” “Yes”
“No,Idon’t Doyou?”
“No.”
“Okay,we’vegotthatclear.ButIkeepthinkingback.Whenwepickedherup.Whenyousawshewasbleeding.” Hepausedsolong,Ihadtoprompthim “What?”
“Youweren’tscared,”hesaid.“Youweren’tevenshocked.Youknewexactlywhattodo.”
I’dbeenhorrifiedwhenI’dseenthebloodonRhondaJean.I’dfeltgriefanddread.AndI had feltfear.ButI’dalsofelt calm Prepared,even
“Youweren’tscared,either,”Iwhispered.
“I’ve beeninthe army. Ifoughtoverseas. We gottraining months ofit. Whenyousaid Rhonda Jeanwas bleeding, my trainingandmyexperiencekickedin ItwaslikeIwasbackthere”Hepaused “April,youworkinabowlingalley Youdon’t gettrainingforthat.”
His words were laid out the way you lay out plates when you’re setting the table. One after the other. Eddie noticed everythingwhenitcametome.
Ishouldhavepanickedatthetime Anormalwomanwouldhave,Iguessed Ishouldhavescreamed HadIscreamed?No, Ididn’tthinkso.Ihadn’tcried,either.Wouldanormalwomanhavecried?Awomanwhohadn’tlivedthroughwhatIhad?
Eddiewasright.AsfarasDetectiveQuentinwasconcerned,IwasAprilDelray,whowouldbeAprilCarterassoonas shegotthepaperworkdonewhenherhoneymoonwasover Iworkedinabowlingalleyandlivedaquietlife Iftherewasone thingmymotherhadtaughtme,onehardlessonthathadstoodoutamongalloftheothers,itwasthatthepolicewereneverto betrusted withanything.
I only planned to marry one man in my entire life if possible, and this man was the one The man whose knees were crookedbehindminerightthisminute.Iwasn’tgoingtoletanythingthreatenthat,andneither,Ithought,wasEddie. “NoteverywarisfoughtinIraq,”Itoldhim. Iheardthesofthushofhisbreath “Iknow” Eddieknewme Heknewmoreofmethananyoneelseintheworldeverhad ButevenEddiedidn’tknoweverything “We’llcomeupwithaplantomorrow,”Isaid.
Eddie’shandtouchedmyhair,hisbigfingerslettingthewispsofblondslideoverthem.
“Okay,”hesaid “Okay”
Thetwouniformedcopswhocametopickusupatsevendidn’tseemtooconcernedthatwemightbemurderers.Theyalso seemedpleasantlysurprisedthatwewerestill here,asifthey’dthoughtwe’dmakeabreakforitandrunaway.Iwasn’t surehowwe’ddothat,sincewehadnocaranddidn’tevenknowexactlywherewewere Therehadsupposedlybeenapolice carstakedoutoutsideallnight AndtherewasnowayinhellIwasgoingtogohitchhikingonAtticusLine
Roseletthecopsin.Shewaswearinganightgownthatcoveredherfromitshighruffledcollartoherfeet,abathrobe,and apinchedlookthatsaidshehatedallofus.Herhairstuckupononeside,andhereyeswerehostilebehindherglasses.She’d plunkeddownsomecoffee,twopiecesoftoast,andacoupleofhard-boiledeggsonherkitchentablewhenwecameoutofour room,andshe’dsilentlydaredustocomplain.
Thekitchenwasdecoratedjustasbadlyasthebedroom:shelveslinedwithfigurines,littlechinabowls,jars,dustyfabric flowers,woodencarvings,danglingbeads Acrochetedpieceoffabricinaframeonthewall toldusthat Home and hearth are where the heart is.Aclockwithafacedecoratedwithrosestickedloudlynexttoit,andontheshelfbelowthat,achina clowngraspedaclutchofballoonsinhishand,asadsmileonhisface.PrincessDianawasinhere,too:aframedphotoofher smilinghungabovethestove,andapaintedportraitofCharlesandDianahunginthelivingroom ItlookedlikeRosewasa Dianafanatic ShehadcopiedDiana’shaircut,thoughtherestofherdidn’tlooklikeDianaatall
We ate everythingRose gave us, eventhoughmystomachwas inknots. Istared atPrincess Diana and swallowed. You havetoeat,especiallywhenthingsgetbad.Havingafullstomachgivesyouabetterchancetothink.
“Don’tlooksoputout,Rose,”oneofthecopssaidashehelpedhimselftoacupofhercoffee “Thesetwoareyouronly customers.”
“ThinkI’llgetpaid?”Rose’svoicewasunpleasant,likeaviolinthatwasbadlytuned.
“Sureyouwill,”theothercopsaid “JustsendabilltoDetectiveQuentin” Thatshuther up.Itshuttheother copup,too.IlookedatEddieas Idrainedmycoffee.Thelookhegavemebacksaid, Here we go.
As westoodtoleave,Eddiereachedintothebackpocketofhis jeans andpulledouthis wornleather wallet Helaida twentyonthetable.“Thankyouforbreakfast,ma’am,”hesaid.
Shegapedathimaswefollowedthetwocopsfromtheroom.Ididn’twatchherdoit,butIknewshetookthetwenty. Everyonealwaysunderestimatedmyhusband.Everyonebutme.
Theyputusinapolicecruiser,inthebackseatlikeapairofcriminals.Therewasanetpartitionseparatingusfromthetwo cops inthe front. The doors ofthe backseathad no handles or window rollers. Itsmelled vaguelysour backhere, and Eddiehadtocrouchwithhiskneesupinthesmallspace
“YouhaveagoodnightatRose’s?”ThiswasthecopwhohadteasedRoseandtakensomeofher coffee Hewasinthe frontpassengerseat,andheglancedbackatus,grinning.
“Shut up, Kyle,” the cop driving the car said. Gravel crunched under our tires as he pulled out of Rose’s unpaved driveway
“What?I’mjustasking”Kylelookedbackatusagain Hehaddarkhaircombedbackbeneathhispoliceman’scapanda wide, square face thatwas hard despite his smirkingexpression. “Youguys have sweetdreams, or what? Are yousure you didn’thearanythinggoingbumpinthenight?”
“Don’tlistentohim,”theothercopsaid
“I’mnotsayingtheplaceishaunted.”Kyleputonafake-solemnexpression.“Notatall.Butyoumightwanttothinktwice beforeyousleeptoodeepatRose’s.Someoneshouldhavewarnedherhusbandbeforeheendedupdeadinherbackyard.He’d beenacopfortwentyyears Hewaslyingtherewhenoneoftheneighborssaw himfromanupstairswindow andcalledthe police.Rosewasafewfeetaway,busydigginginthegarden,likeshewasabouttoburyhim.”
“Jesus,Kyle,”theother copsaid,annoyednow.Then,tous: “Ignorehim.Rosedidn’tmurder her husband.Hediedofa heartattack”
“That’swhatyouthink,”Kylesaid.“There’sareasonnooneeverstaysthere.”
SoRosewasawidow.Thethoughtbarelyflittedthroughmymind.Iwasbusylookingoutthewindowatthetownpassing byinthesummer-morninglight.Theshadowswereharshalready,asifthedaywasgoingtobescorchinghot.
Itwasprobablythebiggesttowninthisarea,ahubforallofthevacationspotsfartheroutontheshoresofthelake There werebigoldhouses,someofthemadvertisingvacationroomstorent.Amainstreetfeaturedacanvasbannerstrungaboveit, advertisingtheannualSummerFunFairhappeninginafewweeks.Therewereswimwearshopsanddiners,cornerpubsandB and Bs that were probably more expensive and nicer than Rose’s There was an empty parking lot with a sign that advertisedthefarmers marketeverySaturday.Moresigns advertisedboatstorageandfishingtacklerepair.Iwonderedhow farwewerefromtheFivePinesResort,fromthelittlecabinEddieandIweresupposedtobestayinginrightnow.
Anotherpolicecruiserpassedus,goingtheotherway,andthetwocopsupfrontliftedtheirhandstothecopsdrivingit “Wherearewegoing?”Eddieasked,ignoringthecontinuedbanteraboutwhetherRosewasamurdererandherhousewas haunted.
“You’regoingtomeetthedetectives,”Kylesaid Heseemedtobethetalkativeone Hegaveusagrinthatwassupposed tobehumorousbutwashardandmeaninstead “Thenyou’regoingtotakethemonalittletour Show themwhereyoukilled thatgirl.”
“Wedidn’tkillanyone.”Ishouldn’thavefallenforit Iknewbetter.Butthewordsstillcameoutofme.
Kyleshrugged “Ifyoudidit,youcanbesureQuentinwillgetitoutofyou He’sgoodatthat”
Itwassupposedtosoundsinister,Iwassure,asifDetectiveQuentininhiswarm-upsuitwasthegestapo.Allitdidwas remindmetobeonmyguard.Ifishedinmypurseformysunglassesandputthemon,wishingI’dhadtimebeforebreakfastto talkto Eddie aboutwhatour planwas Ithoughtaboutthe girl Eddie thoughthe’d seeninthe truckbed Ithoughtaboutthe truck’slightsinourrearwindow,growingbiggerandbrighterasitgainedonus.
I’m sorry. He’s coming.
RhondaJeanwasdead
Iswallowedhard,gladthatmysunglassescoveredmyeyes Iwassupposedtobeonmyhoneymoon,andinsteadIhada deadgirltodealwith.Mymotherwouldlaughifsheknew.
I looked over at Eddie. He was wearinga navyblue T-shirt and his cleanjeans. He looked at me, unperturbed bythe sunglasses,andtouchedhisfingertomychin,ranitgentlyalongmyjawline
“Thosecopswepassedgoingtheotherway,”hesaidsoftly,notcaringthatthetwopoliceupfrontcouldhear.“Theywere goingbacktoRose’stosearchourluggage.”
Thecopswentsilent EvenKyle
Ifrowned.Eddie was right.Whyelse woulda police car be headingbackinthe directionofRose’s? Itmade me angry, eventhoughtherewouldbenothingforthemtofind.Ourbloodyclothesfromlastnight.Mybathingsuit.Eddie’sjoggingshorts and sneakers Some sunscreen Mytampons and mybirthcontrol pills Eddie’s swimtrunks and the pills he tookwhenhe couldn’tsleep.
Wewerejusttwopeopleonourhoneymoon,andthepolicewouldseethatfromourluggage.Andstill,itmadememad.
Eddiedroppedhisfingerfrommyjawandtookouthisownsunglasses,apairofaviatorshe’dhadsincethearmy.When he put themon, Icouldn’t see myhusband anymore just the manwho had spent fourteenmonths inIraq, doingGod knew what.
Thenthecarstopped,andthecopsletusouttomeetwithDetectiveQuentin.
CHAPTER SIX
Foralotofreasons,oneofmymostvividmemorieswasofthesummerIwastwelve.Irememberedbrightsunlightglinting offwindshieldsonthehighwayandthefeelofoldgritundermybarefeet.IrememberedthesugaryfrozenicesIhadtoeat fast before they melted and rubbery sticks of flavorless chewing gum that sometimes were the only meal I would get I remembered tyingmygreasyhair backwithmylast, precious hair elastic, feelingit tear the strands and pull at mysweaty scalp.AndIrememberedmymother,wearingfaded,tightjeans,herpermedblondwavesfallingpasthershoulders,hereyes hiddenbehindwhite-rimmedsunglasses.Irememberedthatnomatterhowhotitwas,hergriponmyarmwasalwayscold.
Everyyear,withoutfail,whenthecicadas startedscreamingandthepavementgothotbeneaththesoles ofmysandals,I rememberedthatsummer.Ithadchangedmylife.IthadmademewhoIwas,AprilDelray,theprettygirlwhowasanexpertin movingthroughlifeunnoticedwhenshewantedto.UntilEddiehadnoticedme.
Itoldhimaboutthatsummeronourfourthdate,aswesatontherun-downsofainhisapartment He’dcookedformeon thatdate spaghetti and meatballs, a meal Ilater learned he considered the bestinhis repertoire. Itwas the firsttime he’d cookedforme,thefirsttimeI’dbeentohisapartment.Normally,thebigquestionofadatelikethis toendupinbedornot? wouldhavehungoverus,butwithEddieIdidn’tobsessaboutit Instead,Itoldhimtheworstthingthathadeverhappened tome
We’dalreadyeatenthespaghettiandwashedthedishes.IwatchedamuscleinEddie’sjawtickasIspoke,andIwatched hishandsomeeyesdarkenwithshadows.
WhenI’dfinished,he’dtakenmyhandandkissedthebackofitwithoutsayingaword Ihadfelthisbreathonmyskin His bighandhadencompassedmine.
Myhearthadcrackedwhenhedidthat,andmyheartnevercracked.Notforanyone,ever.
NowthememoryofthatsummerwascrossedwiththememoryofEddiekissingmyhandinhiskitchen Iwonderedifthat washowmarriageworked,ifthememoriesyoumadewiththepersonyoumarriedstartedtakingovertheonesthathadcome before,likearadiostationthatfadesoutonthedialasanotheronecomesin.
Asithappened,wedidn’tgotobedtogether thatnight thatcamelater Sittingonhissofa,mystomachfull ofspaghetti andmeatballs,I’dstillhadtheideathatEddieCarterwastooniceformetosleepwith.Iwasstillinthewell-wornhabitof assumingI’dlivemylifeallalone.I’dhadnoideaIwasalreadyfalling.
Now we stepped outofthe backofthe police cruiser. The sunwas blazinghotalready, the skyburningblue, the wind nothingbutatiredbreath Sweattrickledbeneathmyshirtbetweenmyshoulderblades
Wewereintheparkinglotofagrocerystorethathadn’topenedyet,andtomysurprise,IrealizedIknewwhereIwasfor thefirsttimesincelastnight.WewerenexttotheturnoffEddieandIhadtakenfromAtticusLineintotown,whenwe’dbeen speedingawayfromthetruckbehindus
Thereweretwoothercarsintheparkinglotbesidesthecruiserwehadpulledupin,oneofthemanotherpolicecruiser, oneofthemanunmarkedcar.Thecarswereallparkedwiththeirnosestogether,likethecircleofanoldwagontrain.Kyleand theothercopwhohaddrivenusstoodbyEddieandme Twootheruniformshadexitedtheothercruiser,andIrealizedthatone ofthemwasOfficerSyedfromlastnight.HelookedatEddieandme,thenlookedaway.
ThethirdcarwasaCutlass,andstandingalongsideitwereDetectivesQuentinandBeam.Quentinhadtradedhiswarm-up suitforapairofsuitpantsandadressshirtunbuttonedatthethroat,withnojacketandnotie Likethewarm-upsuit,thelook
wascasual,yetitwasstrangelyformalonhim Beamwasinafullsuit,andhealreadylookedsweatyandalittlebitmad “Thankyou,Officers,”QuentinsaidtoKyleandhispartner.“Youmaygo.”
Kyle’sfake-jovialfacewenthard,buthedidn’targue.Hispartnerwasalreadyturningbacktowardtheircar.Kylelooked atEddieandme;histypecouldneverresistapartingshot “Havefun,kids,”hesaid “Don’tdoanythingIwouldn’tdo” “You may go,” Detective Quentin repeated, and in that moment I could see that Kyle hated him. I could also see that Quentindidn’tcare.
Thetwocopsgotbackintheircruiserandleft DetectiveBeam,meanwhile,hadpulledoutamapandunfoldeditoverthehoodoftheCutlass.Hesmoothedthesquares of folds out, pinningthe edges as the hot, faint breeze worked under the paper. Detective Quentingestured for us to come closer
“Mr.Carter,”hesaidtoEddie.“Youweredrivinglastnight,correct?” “Yes,”Eddiesaid.
“Pleaseshowmetherouteyoutook.”
Eddiestoodoverthemap,lookingdownatitthroughhissunglasses “Here,”hesaid,pointingtothepaper “Wewereon theinterstate.IrememberpassingasignforGreendale.Imusthaveturnedoffsomewherearoundhere.”Hepointed. “Youdon’trecallexactlywhere?”Quentinasked.
“Itwasdarkandlate Wewerelost” Quentinnodded.“Whydidyouexittheinterstate?”
“IthoughtIwasgoingtherightway.”
“There’s no sign that says anything about Five Pines Resort, which you say is where you were going” Quentin’s expressionwasblank,impossibletoread,eventhoughhewasn’twearingsunglasses.“Sowhydidyouexit?”
“IthoughtIwasgoingtherightway,”Eddiesaidagain.
“Basedonwhat?Haveyoubeentothisareabefore?”
“No”Eddiestoodbackfromthemap “Haveotherpeopledied?Isthatwhatthisisabout?” DetectiveBeamsaid,“Whatmakesyousaythat?”
Eddielookedpointedlyatthepolicesurroundingus.“Justahunch.”
“Mr Carter”DetectiveQuentin’svoicewascalm “Youandyourwifearesuspectsinthatyoungwoman’sdeathuntilIam satisfiedandsaythatyouarenot.Isthatclear?”
Ilookedover atOfficer Syedandthe other uniformedofficer.The other officer lookedtobe abouttwenty,blond-haired andblue-eyed,andhewascheckingmeoutwithoutbotheringtohideit Iwaswearingcutoffjeanshorts,sneakers,andablueand-whitenauticalstripedT-shirtwithawideboatneckthatalmosttouchedmyshoulders.I’dpackedforahoneymoononthe beach,notapoliceinterrogation.Theblondcopwascheckingoutmylegs.
IignoredhimandlookedatOfficerSyed Tomysurprise,hewasalsowatchingme,thoughhislookwasn’tlascivious He gavemethebriefestshakeofhishead,invisibletoeveryonebutme
Whatdidthatmean?Washetellingmetostayquiet?Thathedidn’tbelieveI’dkilledRhondaJean?Thathedidbelieveit? “Whowasshe?”Eddieasked.“RhondaJean.Wasshealocalgirl?Didyoufindherfamily?”
“I’dappreciateitifyou’dgetinthecar,”DetectiveQuentinsaid,ignoringthequestion “We’regoingtotheplacewhere youexitedtheinterstate,andyouandyour wifearegoingtowalkmeandDetectiveBeamthroughwhathappenedlastnight. ThefasterIgetmyanswers,Mr.Carter,thefasterwecanallgohome.”
Quentinwaslying Weweren’tgoinghome atleast,nottoday Thepolicestill hadour car,andtheyweregoingthrough ourluggage.We’dshownupwithamurderedgirlinourbackseat.Weweren’tgoinganywhere.
Itwasn’tlegalanditwasn’tfair,butthesystemwasn’tfair.PeoplelikeEddieandmedidn’tgettocallupateamofhighpricedlawyersandmakeadreamteam Wegottorelyonourwitsinstead IhopedEddiewouldfollowmylead,becauseIhad thefeelingIhadmoreexperiencewiththepolicethanhedid.
AtleastthebackseatoftheCutlasshaddoorhandles.Theair-conditioningdiditsbestinthehotair.Wedroveasatwocar convoy, withDetective Beamdrivingthe Cutlass, Detective Quentininthe passenger seat, and the two uniforms intheir cruiserbehindus.
“Niceweatherforahoneymoon,”DetectiveQuentinsaid.“Howlonghaveyoutwoknowneachother?”
Iwasn’tansweringthat,andneitherwasEddie Thiswasn’tasocialtrip Eddietookmyhandinhissilently,graspedit I openedmyhand,feelingthepowerfulwarmthofhisgrip,runningmythumboveroneofhisbigknuckles.Wewouldgetthrough this.Wewould.
“Youshouldprobablyanswerourquestions,”DetectiveBeamsaidfromthedriver’sseat “Wedon’tneedto,”Isaid.“I’msureyoualreadyknowallaboutus.”
“I couldn’t find much information,” Detective Quentin admitted mildly. “I didn’t have a lot of time. The car is in Mr Carter’s name and registered to your address Mr Carter did military service from which he was discharged at the beginningofthisyear.”
Quentinhadanoddlyformal wayofspeaking,calmandwithoutinflection.Itshouldhave beensoothing,butinstead,the morehespoke,themorewaryofhimIbecame
“You,Mrs.Carter,”Quentincontinued.“OrshouldIcallyouMissDelray?” “Mrs.Carter,”Isaid,andEddiesqueezedmyhand.
“Allright,Mrs.Carter.Youdon’thavemuchofanofficialrecordofanything.Youhaveadriver’slicenseandthat’sabout it You’resomethingofaghost”
Aghost.HethoughtIwasaghost.Hehadnoidea.“Iliveaquietlife,”Isaid.“Noteveryonecommitscrimeallthetime.” “Thatmakes youveryadmirable.” Quentin’s tone was hard to decipher, butIthoughtperhaps he didn’tbelieve me. “A youngladywholivesasimplelifeandfindsadecentmantomarry Youdon’tseethatoftenthesedays”
Iftherehadbeensomethingheavyinthebackseat,Iwouldhavebeentemptedtosmashthebackofhissmugheadwithit. ButIcurledthefingersofmyfreehandandtookabreath.Iknewhewastryingtogoadme.ItwaswhatIwoulddoifIwere him
Inthismoment,hesuspectedmeofmurder.Morethanone,ifmyguesswascorrect.Awomanwhowouldstabahitchhiker or watchher husband stab her and thentake her to the hospital would have to be whatmymother used to call a Prime Bitch DetectiveQuentinwantedtoknowifIwasaPrimeBitchornot Thefastestwaytofindoutwastomakememad Itwas agameofone-upmanship,pureandsimple
Istaredoutthewindowanddidn’ttakethebait,thoughIwantedto.
“Howmanyotherpeoplehavebeenkilled?”Eddieasked.
“You’repersistent,Mr Carter,”Quentinreplied
“YoumusthavecalledtheFivePinesResort,atleast,”Eddiesaid,ignoringhim.“Youwouldn’tbeverygoodcopsifyou didn’t.”
DetectiveBeamlookedatDetectiveQuentin,butQuentinwas staringstraightahead “Ofcoursewecalledthem,”Beam said,annoyed.“Theyverifiedyouhaveareservation.”
“Thenwhydon’tyoubelieveweweregoingthere?”
“BecauseI’veneverheardoftheFivePinesResort,andwhenwelookeditup,wediscoveredit’smileswestofhere,on LakeMichigan Youweregoinginthewrongdirection,Mr Carter”
Eddiescratchedhischin.“Soletmegetthisstraight.AprilandIgotmarriedinAnnArbor whichyoucanalsoverify andmadereservationsforourhoneymoon.Wedidallofthiswiththepurposeofcomingtoadesertedroadinthemiddleofthe night,wherewesomehowknewayoungladywouldbe,andkilledher Then,insteadofdrivingoffandgettingawaywithit becausenoonewouldeverknowitwasus wedrovehertothehospital.Thatwasourplan?”
“We’reclosetotheinterstatenow,”wasQuentin’sonlyreply.
Iwaslookingoutthewindow,tryingtorecognizethelandscape Ithoughtitlookedfamiliarindaylight,butIcouldn’tbe sure. It had all beenso strange last night the light we’d seeninthe trees, the darkroad. The scratchycountrymusic. The leavesstirringbehindRhondaJeanwhenI’drolleddownthewindow totalktoher.ThefactthatEddiehadn’twantedmeto getoutofthecar Hadwereallybeengoingthewrongway?
DetectiveBeammadeaturn,andthenwewereontheinterstate,whichwasnearlydesertedatthistimeofmorningona weekday.Thesunwasallthewayupnow,heatingtheblacktop.Beampickedupspeed.
Thedetectivesweresilent,thetensionthickinthecar.EddieandIhadstoppedfor ahamburger,Iremembered.Butthat musthavebeenmuchearlier Wasn’tit?
“Uphere,”Eddiesaid,hisvoicecalm,hisexpressionflatbehindhissunglasses.“Wemadetheturnoffuphere.”
“There’snosign,”DetectiveBeampointedout.
“Wedidn’thavethemapout Ithoughtthiswastherightdirection”
“Andyet,”Quentinsaid,“wefoundanunfoldedmaponthefloorofyourcar” “Thatwasafterwerealizedwewerelost,”Eddiesaid.“Apriltookoutthemap.”
Beammadetheturnoff,andthenoiseoftheinterstatevanishedquicklybehindus.Wewereonatwo-laneroadlinedwith trees,andeverythingclickedintoplace Irememberedthis
DetectiveBeamslowedthecarasDetectiveQuentinsaid,“Pleasepointoutwhereyoufoundtheyoungwomanlastnight.” Eddie was silent. We cruised slowly down the road, the harsh sunlight dappling between the leaves overhead. I remembered how dark it had been, except for that one strange light that we couldn’t explain It should have been a less frighteningplaceindaylight,butitwasn’t.Therewerenoothercars,nowind,nohouses,nosignoflife.Ihadthesuddenurge totellBeamtogofaster.
Eddiesqueezedmyhandbriefly asignal Ilookedoutthewindowandsawthestandoftreeswherewe’dseenthelight lastnight.
“Itwassomewhereuphere,”Eddiesaid.“Right,April?”
Myvoicewasroughfrombeingsilentsolong.“Yes,Ithinkso.Rightalonghere.”
Beamslowedthecar “Wassheontherightshoulderortheleft?”
“Right,”Eddiesaid.
“Didshehaveherthumbout?”
“No Shewasjustwalking,realslowandnotverysteady Wethoughtshemightbedrunk Wealsothoughtshewasaboyat first.”
Beampulledover,andweallgotoutofthecar.Thecruiserpulledupbehindus,andOfficerSyedandhispartnergotout. “Werethereanylandmarksthatyourecall?”Quentinasked
My sneakers crunched on the gravel of the shoulder as I turned in place, looking around. “It was so dark,” I said, answeringQuentin.
Theyasked more questions did we get out of the car? What exactlydid Rhonda Jeansay? as we walked alongthe shoulderoftheroad Quentinmadeabriefgesturetotheuniformedcops,andtheyspreadoutaheadofus,scanningtheground forbloodoranyotherclues.
TheemptinessonAtticusLinewassocompleteitwaslikeadeafeningnoise.I’dneverseenaroadlikethis soemptyof people,soemptyofanything,thatitfeltlikeavoid Whatwasthisplace?WherehadRhondaJeancomefrom,standingherein themiddleofthenightinthesilence?Howfarhadshewalked?Wherehadshebeengoing?
Whowasshe?Wherewashome?
Andwhohadbeenoutonthisroadlastnight,tryingtorunusdown?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Beam,sweatinginhissuit,spreadhismaponthehoodoftheCutlassagain,makingmarkswithaballpointpen.Theyoung, blond,uniformedcopcrossedtotheothersideofAtticusLine,scanningtheothershoulder.Eddiestoodwithhishandsin his jeans pockets,staringdownthe emptyroad,lostinthought IkeptpicturingRhonda Jeaninthatoversize coat,holdingit closedoverthebloodcoveringherbody Ilefttheroadandstartedwalkingintothetrees
“Mrs. Carter,” Iheard Quentincall behind me. ThenI heard footsteps joggingthroughthe grass, and Officer Syed was walkingnexttome.
“Bestnottopisshimoff,”hesaidinalowvoice,thoughweweretoofarawayforQuentintohear
“Idon’tknow ifthis is the rightplace,” Isaid,frustrated.“There are nolandmarks onthis stupidroad,nolights.Itwas dark. There’s no signRhonda Jeanwas evenhere. How does a girl get stabbed and start walkingand not leave anytrace behind?”
“Thereisn’tmuchtrafficonthisroad,”Syedsaid.“Tobehonest,mostpeopleavoidit.” “Nokidding.Why?”
Heshrugged Hemustbehotinthatuniform,butexceptforasmalltrickleofsweatononetemple,heshowednosignofit “Rumors”
Istoppedwalking.Wewereinthetreesnow,theheatbreathingthesmellofpineonus,mosquitoesflittingintheshadows. Theotherswereoutofsightandearshot,QuentintrustingthatSyedwouldbringmeback.“Notrumors,”Isaid,facingSyed. “Othermurders AmIright?”
Hescratchedthebackofhisneck,lookingbehindhimbeforeanswering.“Wegethitchhikersonthisroad.”
“Right.AndwhydoesthispartofMichigangetsomanyhitchhikers?”
“Upthatway,pasttheturnofftotown,isHunterBeach,”Syedsaid,pointingdowntheroadinthedirectionwe’dgonelast night.“It’soveranhourdowntheroad,butit’sthere.”
“What’sHunterBeach?”
Hemoppedthesweatbeadingonhisforeheadbeneathhiscap “It’saplacewherethekidsgo It’skindofaknownspot, wheretheycancamponthebeach,stayaslongastheylike.There’sanoldhousethat’susedasahostel,placestopitchtents.It drawshitchhikersandbackpackers,thatsortofcrowd.”
“Youletthemcamponthebeach?”Iasked.
“It’sprivateproperty Themanwhoownsitdoesn’tlivethere,andheletsanyoneuseit He’sowneditsincethesixties, andheownsagoodsectionofthebeach,sonoonecanreallycomplain.We’vetalkedtohimadozentimesovertheyears,but healwayssaysthathebelievesthekidsshouldbefreetousethebeachhowevertheywant.Youcanseewhytheyliketogo there”
Istartedwalkingagain,lookingforsomething Ididn’tknowwhat.“SoRhondaJeanwastryingtogettoHunterBeach.” “Probably.Shewasn’talocalgirl.HerIDwasfromBaltimore.”
“Howoldwasshe?”
“Eighteen.”
I pressed my fingertips to my eye sockets behind my sunglasses. Eighteen. “How many others have died around here?
That’swhywe’resuspects,right?”
OfficerSyedseemedtorememberwherewewere,whowewere “Mrs Carter,I’msupposedtoaskyouthequestions,not theotherwayaround.”
“Sure,”Isaid.Islappedamosquitofrommyarmandchangeddirectiontocomeoutofthetreesandontotheroad.
“Mrs Carter,” Officer Syedsaidas he followedme,“Ihave tobe honest Eventhoughthis is a murder,youseemtobe prettycasualaboutit.”
I could see the two detectives onAtticus Line, as well as the blond policeman. Eddie was talkingto Detective Beam, pointinginone direction, thenthe other As Iwatched, Quentinlowered to a crouchonthe shoulder ofthe road, lookingat somethingontheground.
“I’mthe opposite ofcasual,” ItoldOfficer Syed.“Verymuchthe opposite.WhatshouldIdo,accordingtoyou? Scream andcry?”
“Maybe.”Hedidn’tseemveryconvinced.
“Idon’thave time for that.” The heathitme as Iwalkedontothe bakingroad.Afew far-offbirds called,butother than that,AtticusLinewassilent.“Ihaven’tseenasinglecarsincewecamehere.”
“Itoldyou,thereisn’tmuchtraffic Mrs Carter ”
“DoyouthinkshecameallthewayfromBaltimorejusttogotoHunterBeach?”Istareddowntheroadinthepulsingheat, thinkingaboutRhondaJeaninheroversizecoat,thefrecklesonthebridgeofhernose.
“Whoknows?”OfficerSyedsoundedexasperated “HunterBeachhasbeenaroundfordecades It’soneoftheplacesthese kidstoday,thesebackpackers,wouldknowabout.”
EddieandDetectiveBeamwerehavingananimateddiscussion.Beamheldthemap,foldedintoahalf-manageableshape, andEddiewaspointingashetalked Beamshookhishead
Detective Quentinstood a few feet awayfromthem, not takingpart inthe discussion. He was standingstill, seemingly unbotheredbytheheatbeatingdownonhim.Hisgazewasfixedonme.
OfficerSyedfollowedmygaze “Weshouldgojointhem,orI’llbeintrouble,”hesaid “Sure,” I said It’s so hot out, I thought Why was Rhonda Jean wearing that jacket? And why didn’t she have any luggage?
And suddenly, Iwas cold. The summer heatevaporated and a chill blasted throughme, so real and so heavyIletouta surprisedbreath Itfeltlikeabubbleoficyair hadrippedstraightthroughmybody,freezingmythroat As theJulysunbeat mercilesslyaboveme,Ishiveredhard.
OfficerSyeddidn’tseemtonotice.Hewaswalkingaway,wipinghisforeheadagain.
The cold dissipated, and thenIwas dizzy Mystomachroiled and myhead ached as ifIhad the flu Iblinked and bent, puttingmyhandsonmykneesandtryingnottothrowupasthefeelingpassed.
Sweatpoppedonmyskin,coatingmyfaceandmakingmysunglassesslidedownmynose.IcouldfeelDetectiveQuentin stilllookingatme Maybetheywerealllookingatmenow
BeforeIstraightened,mygazecaughtonsomethingnexttomyfeet Acorneroffadedpinkvisiblefromunderthedirtand deadleavesonthesideoftheroad.Gettingmyselftogether,Ileaneddownandtuggedatit.
Itwas a clothflower. Itwas old and weathered, the cheap silkfaded and dirty. The plastic stemwas snapped, as ifthe flowerhadbeenpartofabouquetatsomepoint Therestofthebouquetwaslonggone Attachedtotheflowerwasasmallcardwithfadedwritingonit,thelettersinkedincalligraphy.Throughthedirt,Icould stillreadthewords.
In memory of Katharine O’Connor March 2, 1993