by Penny Wylder
I slam the door behind us to drown out whatever else he’s about to say.
Jenna whirls on me the second the door shuts. “I could’ve handled him myself, Gil. That guy’s old enough to be my grandpa.”
“Which is exactly why he shouldn’t go around creeping on young ladies and giving this whole town a bad reputation,” I reply with a scowl. “We’re not all complete pervs, I promise you.”
“Really?” She arches a single brow, her expression suddenly shifting from mild annoyance to interest. “You’re not a perv, Gil? Because I remember more than a few things you said that might be considered pervy…”
I smirk right back. “If I recall correctly, Jenna, you have just as dirty a mouth as I do. Not to mention, you know how to use yours pretty fucking well…”
She laughs. “Not that you gave me the chance to really demonstrate properly, if I recall.”
I hold her eye, my smile deepening. “My apologies. You’re right. If you’d like another chance to demonstrate, my night is wide open,” I lie, ignoring the bag full of supplies I’m holding and dismissing my plans to build that table tonight. I already ignored her for work once. I won’t make that mistake again.
She holds my eye. Smiles. “Hmm. That’s good to know,” she says, though I notice that’s not quite a yes. There’s something hesitant in her posture, her body language. Something’s changed.
“How have you been, Jenna?” I ask, voice going low and serious now. Because I can imagine what all those questions with the detective must be like. After all, I’ve been through it myself already, one too many times this month.
She swallows hard. A quick look flashes across her face, something I can’t place. It’s almost like… fear. Or maybe sorrow? She glances away from me, turning her face so I can’t see her eyes, or anything but the downward turn of her mouth. “Fine, fine,” she says, voice forced and light. “I mean, aside from all this murder stuff. God, how insane.” When she turns back to me again, whatever I saw earlier is gone, replaced by concern. “Can you believe something like that happened right here, while we were in town?”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe it happened here, period. Bailey is a sleepy little place. Hell, the last time I heard about anything this scandalous was in the 1800s, when town legend has it a girl broke her neck trying to run away on horseback with the boy she loved.”
She looks away again, at that. “The cops say he was strangled.”
“I know.”
Jenna flashes me a wry glance. “Detective Hartman asked me to confirm your whereabouts that night.”
I swallow hard. “Sorry about that—I hope I didn’t drag you too deep into this. But I had to explain myself, and, well…”
Jenna shakes her head. “It’s all right. I’m happy to help. After all, your alibi is my alibi that night.” Her cheeks go red in that way I’ve missed. She blushes so easily, this girl. “Anyway,” she carries on, “that’s the only reason I’m here. Just up for a couple days to give an official statement. It’s not because of… I mean, I didn’t come to see you again or anything, I’m not some stalker.” She forces a laugh, and turns up another street. “Well, this is me, so—”
“The hotel is this way,” I say, pointing in the opposite direction.
She nearly trips over her own feet. “Oh. Right.” Her cheeks heat again.
I take a chance and extend my arm. After a moment’s hesitation, she reaches out, and I loop her hand around my elbow. “Come on. We’ll go the long way, take the scenic route.” I walk her in the general direction of the hotel, though I make sure to meander up plenty of side streets and give her plenty of rambling town history stories in order to drag this walk out as long as possible.
Her words keep echoing in my head. I didn’t come to see you or anything. Why is she acting like this? At first, right out of the station, she was flirting just like last time. Then suddenly, as soon as I asked what was wrong, she went all cold. I can’t work out why she’s being so distant.
The whole walk is like that. A flirty line here and there, some laughter, her leaning closer and closer to my arm… And then her pulling away again, disentangling her hand from my arm, putting a few steps between us, like she’s suddenly remembered she can’t do this.
And I can’t figure out why.
All too soon, we reach the lobby of the hotel. We cross inside, and we’re barely through the door when the main receptionist, a guy named Merill Vans, leaps to his feet. “You’re back!” he shouts, but not to me.
He’s looking at Jenna.
She smiles. “In the flesh.”
“I didn’t expect to see you up this way again,” he says as she approaches the check-in desk. “Especially not so soon, and not after… well…”
I clear my throat. “Merill.”
“Gil.” Merill nods toward me, though I notice he doesn’t quite meet my eyes. Great. Another townie convinced I’m the murderer around here.
“Yes, well, it’s actually because of that, ah, unpleasant business, that I’m back in town,” Jenna is saying, oblivious to the dynamic. “I had to come and give some statements to the detective leading up the case.”
“That so?” Merill asks absently as he swipes her credit card. “What about?”
Jenna shrugs one shoulder. “You know, just who I saw where and when, that kind of stuff. And the detective thinks maybe some of the photographs I took that night might be helpful.”
Merill passes her card back. “Well, here’s hoping. All right, I have your room all ready, staying two nights?”
“Hopefully no more.” Jenna glances in my direction, though only barely. “I have to get back to work soon, so I’m hoping the police don’t need me for long…”
“In my experience it’s been pretty quick,” Merill assures her. “They’ve spoken to most of us locals already, only takes a couple hours in the precinct.”
She flashes him a smile. “Well, it’s nice to see a familiar face, anyway.”
“A friendly one, anyway,” Merill adds, with a glare in my direction. “Some around here you can’t really trust.”
That finally tips her off. She turns to frown at me, confused. “Gil’s friendly,” she says. “Hell, I’d better hope so—he’s my alibi for the night of the murder,” she adds, with a laugh. “Never thought that was a sentence I’d ever say.”
Some of the clouds on Merill’s face begin to clear. “Oh. You mean you…”
Jenna whirls back on him. “What, did you think he was involved?” she asks, feigning surprise. “Aren’t you from here, Gil?” she calls over her shoulder. “Didn’t you grow up with these people?”
“Born and raised,” I say.
“I thought small towns took care of their own.” Jenna clucks her tongue. “Not threw them under the bus the first chance they got.”
Merill bows his head, cowed. “My apologies, Ms. Walker. You’re completely right.”
My pulse has picked up, like a shot straight to my chest. Jenna is the first person who’s defended me aloud. Even the detective, she just quietly tells me she doesn’t buy this stuff. Hell, even some of my closest friends, like Tommy, they just tell me to my face they believe me. They don’t say it in front of other people.
Jenna, for her part, whirls away from the desk to face me once more. “Come on, Gil.” Then she loops her arm through mine, firm, and leads me straight for the staircase.
Well. If she’s inviting me up to her hotel room, I’m not about to protest. But we’ve only rounded the corner when she pauses, pulls up sharp in front of me.
“Sorry about that, Gil.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I laugh. “That was fucking great.”
“I can’t believe he’d imply that about you.” She’s scowling.
I shake my head. “Half the town is saying it. It’s not just him. Hell, I don’t even blame him; Merill and I aren’t close or anything. How would he know any better?”
“Um, because you’re from here?” Jenna shakes her head too, incred
ulous. “He’s known you his whole life, hasn’t he? How can you just assume that about a person?”
“Well, I didn’t have an alibi. And one girl said she saw me walking into the woods—which she did, though I was only following you.” I lift a brow at her. “Another woman said she heard screams coming from my place, so, the rumors have gotten a little out of hand.”
“Oh, God.” Jenna’s face heats once more. “I’m so sorry, Gil, I’ve ruined your reputation.”
I bark out a laugh. “Jenna, believe me, my reputation was plenty tarnished before you came along. And I’m not about to go around kissing and telling just to get myself out of a jam.”
Her embarrassment melts into gratitude. “Thank you for that.”
“What any gentleman should do. Now, another thing a gentleman should do, is escort a lovely young lady on her own in a town with a murderer on the loose to her bedroom…” I wink, and she rolls her eyes.
Then there’s that something else on her face again. That distance, the wall she’s purposefully throwing up. “I’m sorry, Gil,” she says, and that makes far too many times today she’s apologized to me. “I just… I can’t.” With that, she twists away from me and hurries up the steps.
I watch her go, confused, until she rounds the corner to her room. Only then do I force myself to move again, back out the hotel doors onto the street.
9
Gil
First thing I do is beeline for the station. I kept my temper under wraps with Jenna there, but I can’t stop thinking about creepy old Graham Denver, and the way he kept trying to sidle closer to Jenna, grab her hand, touch her arm, bend his face to hers.
Then he has the damn nerve to ask for her number?
And he’s a cop, he’s in a place of power in town. That’s fucking bullshit. All this murder business has me thinking about the shit we let people get away with. Jenna had a point to Merill—he’s known me all my life, why does he believe bad things of me? But there’s a counter-point to make. When we know people all our lives, do we let them slide for shit we shouldn’t?
How many girls has Graham harassed? How many more will he back into a corner before we do something about it? Just because he’s old, just because he’s been here for-fucking-ever, it doesn’t give him the right.
I shove open the precinct door the second I reach it, angrier than ever now… Only to stumble to a halt at the threshold.
The main desk is empty. No Graham in sight. But I hear voices drifting from just beyond a little door off to one side—the one that leads to the little office Detective Hartman has taken over for the duration of this case. I should know it, since I’ve spent plenty of hours within its walls by now.
Is Graham creeping on her too?
I move closer to the door, though pause just before I do something dumb like shove it open and interrupt a private conversation. The first voice I hear inside is Hartman’s.
“You didn’t ask her to come back tonight? That’s precisely what I told you to do, Graham.”
“She had to leave, while I was taking down her details,” Graham says, and I realize they’re talking about Jenna. Great. So while Graham was hitting on her, he was also forgetting to do his damned job.
“That’s it? You couldn’t have just asked her to wait another minute and explained that this is urgent?” The detective sounds like she’s had more than enough of Graham’s bullshit too.
“It, uh, it seemed urgent,” Graham bluffs. “Her leaving.”
There’s a pause, during which the detective huffs out a sigh. “Hmm. Probably got morning sickness again.”
“Morning sickness?” Graham repeats, in his stupid fucking voice.
“Yeah. She’s pregnant, poor thing,” Hartman responds. “Imagine, dealing with a case like this, and all these interviews, in her condition. That’s why I wanted to talk to her as soon as I could, get her home fast…”
I don’t hear anything else. I can’t think straight, can’t process any more information. All I can think about is… a baby?
I stumble out of the precinct. I’m careful to ease the door shut after me, suddenly not wanting to confront Graham yet, or face the detective. Not until I’ve collected myself. Because, holy shit, Jenna is pregnant?
I think about that night. Her hand on my wrist, stopping me as I reached for the condoms. I’m on the pill. She didn’t look pregnant just now. But it takes a while to show. Maybe she’d already been pregnant, and didn’t want to tell me when we were mid-hookup. Or maybe she’s gotten pregnant since then…
What, since a month ago? My mind points out. How would she have even had time to notice before a month in?
My stomach drops.
That could be my child. She could be carrying my baby. Suddenly, more than anything else in the world, I need to know. Is that my baby? My gut tells me yes. Astonishingly my heart wants it to be.
A baby, our baby, mine and Jenna’s. I’ve never given much thought to starting a family, but then, why would I think about it yet? I always figured I’d have time later, when the right moment arrived. I figured once I met the right person, I’d know, and that would be that.
But maybe the universe just figured it out for me.
It might not be your child, I tell myself. But even if it’s not, all I want to do right now is be with Jenna. Protect her from creeps like Graham, from stressful shit like this murder investigation. I want to keep her safe, at my side, protected. And if that is my baby inside her?
I want to be with her. I want to make this work. I want her.
10
Jenna
I wake up to the sharp, piercing ringtone of the landline in my hotel room. I groan under my breath and roll over, fumbling with the receiver, dropping it to the shag carpet before I finally yank it up to my ear. “Hello?” I ask groggily, as I squint at the clock. 7am. Way too early for a day I had to take off work.
“Jenna?” I recognize Stacey’s voice instantly. “Are you free to meet up today? We’re ready to hear your testimony.”
“Sure,” I say, after a second’s pause. I rub sleep from my eyes. “Um, yeah, anytime. When is good?”
“Meet me at the precinct in an hour.” At that, Stacey disconnects, and I’m left staring at the receiver. Then the nausea hits again, and I have to throw the phone back at its cradle and sprint for the bathroom.
Good morning, Jenna.
After I’ve cleaned myself up and recovered from the worst of the morning sickness, I get dressed and head out to face the early morning air. It’s inching toward summer here, and you can tell it from the air. Just a month ago, I’d have needed a sweater this early. Now I’m comfortable in just a tank top, although I still have jeans on. It’s not quite shorts weather yet.
Stacey meets me in front of the precinct with two coffees in hand, and passes me one, already walking. “Is it all right if I record this conversation?” she asks.
“Of course,” I reply, eyebrows rising. I glance back over my shoulder at the office, as she sets up a portable tape recorder. “I thought we were going to chat in there?”
“Actually, I was hoping you could show me the spot you mentioned. You said yesterday, before I had to run to that other meeting, that you heard voices and saw some lights in the woods on the first night of the festival?”
I think back to the short conversation we had yesterday and nod. All we’d gotten through was me corroborating Gil’s alibi, and then the lights and voices I’d heard in the woods, before Stacey had gotten a call from her boss and been forced to step away for a while. Then came Gil, and the whole Graham creeping on me thing, and I haven’t seen her since.
“I was hoping you might be able to show me where that was, and talk about it in more detail.”
“I’ll try,” I say, as we reach the square where the festival tents used to be. It looks oddly smaller now, shrunken, as though the festival took all the life with it. Or maybe the murder, I realize.
I walk her toward the edge of town, up to the remains of the bonfire
pit, and try to explain. “It was just shapes I saw, really, could have been anyone. They had flashlights, which is what caught my eye. I thought it was another party at first, strobe lights or something, so I walked toward it. Then I started to get the creeps, when I realized it was just two people walking between trees.”
“Did you say anything to them, or hear anything?”
I scrunch up my forehead, thinking hard. “I snapped a twig following them; I think they heard it. They shouted ‘Who’s there?’ and pointed a flashlight my way. Then after that they stopped moving for a while. I got scared and headed back toward the fire, and when I looked back again a few minutes later, I couldn’t see them anymore.” I stop walking, realizing I’m just circling the bonfire pit, around and around. “Er, sorry, I seem to have lost my bearings a little…”
The detective sighs. “You said it was a little ways away from town, so…” She hesitates, to look at the three different directions it could be, all leading away from the fire.
“Um…” That’s when I spot him. Back down toward town, but walking our way. “Wait a minute, actually, I think he might know. Gil!” I shout.
His head jerks up, lands on me in a second. He changes direction to head our way.
“His cabin is out this direction too,” I explain to the detective. “We went there together, after, um… after hanging out at the bonfire for a while.”
“I see.” Stacey studies Gil as he strides toward us. “And was he with you, when you saw the figures in the woods?”
“Yes,” I answer right away, before I actually think back to the moment. “Er. Actually, no. He showed up a few minutes later, after I’d circled back to the bonfire. But he probably saw which direction I came from, it was just after that.”
“Just after it, hmm?” Stacey murmurs, right before Gil reaches us.
Only then do I realize what I’ve done. Did I just invalidate Gil’s alibi? Is she thinking like Merill again suddenly, wondering if that could have been Gil out in those woods, one of the shadowy figures?