by Simon Lelic
So we’re outside the barn. And Mason’s refusing to let us use the phone. The one we found. Sadie’s phone. You know about that, right?
Right. So we’re standing there arguing, and Mason’s got the phone in his pocket, and the broken bottle in his hand, and Abi is so scared by this point, she can’t keep it in any longer.
“Just tell him!” she said to Cora. “Tell him what you did! He’s not going to let us go until you do!”
“Me?” said Cora. “What about what you two did? Both of you!” At which point, not only was she looking at Abi, she was also glaring at Fash. Who looked more afraid than either of them.
And what it all came back to, I suppose, was the night we went down to the sand dunes, right back at the start of the summer. We lit a fire, drank some wine, listened to music. At first it was all really chilled-out. But I think we got more pissed than we realized. In fact, I know we did. And there were all sorts of things simmering. Little . . . tensions. You know? End-of-term stuff. Stuff between Cora and Sadie. Because of Mason, which had basically been going on all year, and which made it kind of awkward for the rest of us. Particularly whenever Mase and Sadie argued. Which is what happened that night. I can’t even really remember how it started. Sadie was anxious about exam results, and Mason was telling her to chill out, and she was going, That’s easy for you to say, and it started building from there. And Fash . . . Fash was on one. On a mission, I mean. To get wasted. Because he was nervous about exam results, too—about what his mum would say if he didn’t get all nines. About what she’d say if she caught him drinking wine in the sand dunes, come to that. And Cora wasn’t helping. She was calling him a pussy, just joking around but also basically winding him up, getting him to drink more and more. As for me, I was worrying about Dylan, because he never liked it when me and Sadie were out of the house at the same time. So I wasn’t planning on staying that long anyway. In fact, I left not long after Mason stormed off. I kind of took it as my cue. Maybe if I’d’ve stuck around, none of this would have happened. Maybe . . .
Maybe all sorts of things, I suppose.
But the woods. What it all led to.
“Tell them, Fash!” Cora was saying. “Go on! Tell them about you and Sadie in the sand dunes!”
It wasn’t fully light at this stage, but the night was becoming grayer. We could see each other, basically. Meaning there was no more hiding in the dark.
“What?” said Fash. “I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But Fash has never been a very good liar. I mean that in the nicest way possible. I’m guessing he’d only managed to keep the thing with Sadie quiet for so long because it was the first time anyone had actually challenged him about it.
Mason had been pointing the bottle at Abi. His hand fell to his side. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he said to Cora, but his eyes were locked on Fash.
Abi, meanwhile, was crying and shaking her head, as though she was already beginning to wish she hadn’t said anything. Or maybe that she’d had the guts to say something earlier.
“Mate,” said Fash. “Listen . . .” He held up his hands, and his eyes kept flicking to that broken bottle. “Nothing happened, Mase, I swear it. It’s just . . . What Cora’s saying, it’s . . .”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Fash!” said Cora. “Grow a fucking scrotum, will you?”
“Me?” said Fash, rounding on her. “What about you? What have you been hiding, Cora? You—” And then I guess he must have realized. “Wait, you . . . you came back? That night. You saw?”
At which point, Cora looked at Abi.
You see, at the dunes, after I’d left, and after Mason had stormed off, Cora tried to catch him up. And Abi went after Cora because Cora had all her stuff. Which left Sadie and Fash on their own. And they were both pissed. A-bottle-and-a-half-of-wine-each pissed. Not to mention pissed-off. Sadie, in particular. Even before I’d left, she’d started bad-mouthing Mason. Him and Dad at the same time, actually. Our dad, I mean. Sadie’s and mine. Again, it was all to do with it being the end of term, I reckon, and the pressure coming out of the exams, but what she said was, she was sick of being stuck on a fucking pedestal. Of everybody always expecting her to be perfect. And she said that sometimes she’d just get this urge to do something really awful, just to see everybody’s faces. And all I can imagine is, somehow it went on from there. Fash agreeing, saying he was sick of the expectation, too. Of people like Cora calling him a pussy. And then the two of them maybe clinking bottles, saying Fuck them. You know? Fuck exams, and fuck being told what to do, and fuck always being fucking perfect. And then what I imagine is, they started laughing. Maybe they realized they were sitting too close. And maybe . . . Shit. I don’t know. Maybe it was just like people say, one thing leading to another . . .
“I did,” said Abi, still crying. “I saw. I’m sorry, Fash, I couldn’t help it! I came back. After I got my phone and that from Cora’s bag. And you and Sadie . . . you . . .” She looked at Mason, and didn’t dare to say anything more.
“Tell them what you did next, Abi,” said Cora. In a voice I didn’t like at all. And then, when Abi didn’t say anything, Cora answered for her. “She took a photo,” she said. “Of the two of you doing it.”
“I didn’t mean to! It was like . . . like a reflex, that’s all! I thought you were just messing around! And anyway, it didn’t even come out! You’ve seen it. You all have. You can barely even see Sadie’s face!”
“But you were more than happy to show me, weren’t you?” said Cora. “When you came to my house the next day?”
“Which was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made!” Abi’s face was blotched with tears, but now more than upset she looked angry. Furious, in fact. She pointed at Cora, her arm straight like a spear. “She was the one who shared it online. Using my account! The one I set up as a joke last year. The Lara one. I only didn’t delete it earlier because it had so many followers. Because people thought it was genuinely her. And Cora was in my bedroom one evening, and when I went out of the room for like five fucking minutes, she swiped my phone and posted it! More than once! And she didn’t even tell me!”
“You started the rumors?” I said to Cora. “You were the one spreading shit about my sister?”
Cora opened her mouth to answer, but Fash spoke up before she could.
“The photo,” he said. “I thought . . . I thought it was fake. I mean, I figured someone had seen us. But I just assumed . . . Lara, maybe, or . . . someone who hated us. Who didn’t really know us. Not one of our friends!”
Cora had the decency to look ashamed. “Why do you think I kept you out of it, Fash? To protect you. You and your friendship with Mason. And it wasn’t shit, Luke. That was the whole point!” She looked at Mason, who was standing there trying to take it all in. “Everybody always thought Sadie was Little Miss Perfect. But she wasn’t! I was trying to show you, Mase! To prove to you that she didn’t love you as much as you loved her. The truth is, she didn’t deserve you. You should have been with me!”
Mason looked appalled, disgusted. You name it.
“I would have stopped it, Mason,” said Abi, pleading now. “I did stop it. I deleted the account. After Sadie went missing, Cora freaked out. She came to me and told me what she’d done. I didn’t even know until then! I didn’t even use that account! And what Cora said was, if I told anyone it was her—the police, she meant, because she knew how it would look if they found out how jealous she was—but what she said was, if I told anyone, she’d deny it. Tell them I did it. Which she said she’d be able to prove because the police would be able to trace the photo to my phone. And then she made me use another account to send other stuff. About Sadie’s parents, this time.”
“I didn’t make you do anything!” said Cora. “You could have said no. You’re not a fucking sheep.” She turned to me. “And the stuff about your parents, Luke . . . I didn’t think yo
u’d even see it. You’d already told us you’d deleted your accounts. And I was only trying to stop the police blaming Mason. You see that, don’t you? Both of you?” She looked at Mason. “I said to you, Mase. I told you I’d tried to help you . . .”
“Help me?” said Mason. “By spreading lies about someone else?”
“I swear,” said Abi, cutting in, “none of it was my fault. It was all Cora. All of it. And I only didn’t say anything because I was so afraid. I thought . . . I thought Sadie had killed herself. We both did! Admit it, Cora—that’s what you thought, too!”
Cora didn’t have to say anything to confirm Abi was telling the truth. And I could imagine exactly what they’d been thinking. At first, they might have figured Sadie had run away. Hoped she had, maybe. But then, when she didn’t turn up, when there was no sight of her on any CCTV, and when you lot found her bag . . . Maybe they started to believe that Sadie had been so upset by all the gossip—the gossip they’d started—that she’d actually taken her own life.
It was no wonder they’d been so afraid of what they’d find out in the woods. And so ashamed, too. So terrified that one of them would betray the other.
“You lied,” said Mason. “All of you—you all lied! I knew you were lying! And not one of you went to the police! All you cared about was trying to save your own skin!” He looked at Cora and Abi—and then his eyes settled on Fash. “And you. You let the police believe that Sadie was pregnant because of me!”
“Mate, listen, honestly . . . I didn’t know anything about the pregnancy test! I swear on my life! On my mum’s life! On . . . on . . .”
“On Sadie’s life?” said Mason, and Fash’s mouth clamped shut. Because it was clear he felt as guilty as Cora and Abi did. Not only for what he’d done, but for what it might have caused. Because if Sadie was really pregnant . . . I mean . . . Well. It was no wonder she ran.
Yeah.
Yeah, I knew about her running away.
And I’m getting to that, I promise. In fact, I’m almost done. Because then, after that, after the truth had come out, that’s when it all kicked off.
“You fucked her,” said Mason, and he took a step toward Fash. “My girlfriend. And you didn’t even have the guts to admit it. Not even when the entire town was ready to lynch me—my dad leading the way!”
“No, Mase, it wasn’t like that. Honestly, mate, I—”
“Stop calling me that! Stop calling me mate!”
Mason still had the broken bottle in his hand. And right away I could see where things were heading. Because Mason . . . I mean, he’s no murderer. I swear he isn’t. What I said before we set off, about him being a psychopath—I didn’t mean it. I just didn’t want him being out there. I didn’t want him being anywhere near where Sadie . . . where she . . .
I never thought he was capable of killing her. Of killing anyone. But you have to remember what he’d been through. The person he loved most in the entire world was gone. The police were accusing him of murder. And then he finds out that all his friends have been lying to him, and that his best friend slept with Sadie behind his back. So at that moment, after all of that, and after three days being out there in the woods . . . All I’m saying is, everybody has their limits.
He started forward. Fash started moving back. I made a grab for Mason’s arm, to try to stop him from using that bottle, and then, the next thing I know, Mason’s pointing the bottle at me. Snarling at me. Raging. And Abi’s screaming, and Cora’s yelling, and I can only imagine how it must have looked.
To an outsider, I mean.
To somebody watching.
And even though I’d known he was out there, I just . . . I couldn’t . . .
I didn’t expect it.
My brother. Dylan.
I didn’t know he was still trying to follow us, and I didn’t see him come rushing from the woods.
“Leave him alone!” he yelled, as he came charging toward us from the trees.
At first I’m not sure the others recognized him. He was in as bad a state as we were: his clothes wet through, his hair plastered to his head, and his eyes wild with fury.
“Let him go!” he shouted at Mason. “Don’t you touch him!”
“Dylan? Dylan, no!” I reacted before the others did. When I called out, Mason spun, and I saw his eyes go wide. Before anybody knew what was happening, Dylan was standing right in front of us, his knuckles bulging around the handle of Mason’s kitchen knife.
“Dylan? What are you—”
“I said leave him alone! Get away from my brother!” Dylan waved the knife, and Mason stumbled backward.
“That’s . . . that’s my knife. Where did you get that?”
“I found it! It’s mine now.”
“Dylan . . .” Mason said, but once again my brother slashed the air with the knife. The blade was as long as his forearm.
“Whoa,” said Mason, “take it easy. Here, look.” He tossed the broken bottle toward the trees. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Put down the knife, Dylan. You’re going to get someone hurt.”
“Do as he says, Dylan,” I told him. “Put it down. You shouldn’t have picked it up in the first place!”
“But it’s his fault!” said Dylan. “All of it. It’s all his fault!” The whole time, his eyes never left Mason.
There were too many people talking. Cora was saying Dylan’s name, pleading with him, to try to get him to calm down. Fash and Abi were doing the same. And with me and Mason speaking, too . . . Dylan, he . . . he wouldn’t have liked it. Everybody barking at him like that . . . I mean, they probably didn’t even realize they were doing it. But nothing anyone was saying helped.
“Dylan, listen to me,” I said, trying to make myself heard. “Sadie’s fine. I told you already, she’s fine. She’s . . . she’s coming back. Soon. We just have to wait a while. That’s all. We have to be brave, and patient, and . . . and not do anything silly.”
Dylan’s eyes flicked toward me. He kept the knife leveled at Mason. There was only a blade’s length between them.
“If she’s coming back, why are you even out here? I heard what you said. I’ve been listening! You said you were looking for her. And he said Sadie was dead!”
“She’s not dead, Dylan, I promise! She’s just . . . She’s gone away. But she’ll be back!”
Dylan was shaking his head. “I saw him,” he said, still glaring at Mason. “He was going to hurt you. The same way he hurt Sadie. I hate him!”
“Mason, don’t!”
Everybody started moving at once. Dylan lunged forward, and Fash tried to grab him from one side. Abi was trying to pull Fash away, and Cora was struggling to help Mason. The only thing I had eyes for was that knife, and I’m guessing Mason was thinking the same. But it was just . . . it was like a bar fight. A brawl, where nobody knows what’s happening. People were grabbing, pulling, just doing anything to try to stop anyone else getting hurt. And it . . . it . . .
It didn’t work.
Dylan, he . . . he was so small, and . . .
And I don’t know how it happened. One moment I thought I had hold of his arm, the next it was slipping from my grip. So I was flailing, basically. Grabbing anything I could. And all I know—all I really want to tell you—is that everything that happened is my fault. What happened to Dylan, what happened to my sister . . .
It was me. All of it. It was all me.
I’m the one who killed Sadie, and it was my hand around the knife when it slashed my little brother across the stomach.
THE RAIN HAD dwindled to a mist. With no breeze to disturb it, it hung in the air like a dying breath. When they’d driven past the harbor, the water had been like tar—dark and viscous—and in the fog the boats had looked like ghost ships. On the road, despite the hour, every car they’d passed had had its lights on, and all the traffic had been heading the opposite way. As though some
how the drivers all knew. As though instinct—discretion?—was calling them elsewhere.
Now, as Fleet and his companions continued on foot, nothing around them looked real. They could hear the rush of the river up ahead of them, but the water itself was shrouded from sight. Even the footbridge appeared half-dissolved. As though, when they came to try to cross it, the boards would simply vanish beneath their feet. Farther on, where the woods began, the trees seemed to be made of shadows.
Fleet didn’t easily get spooked, but it was hard at this stage not to believe in omens. And there were five of them: Fleet, Nicky, a uniformed PC, the social worker and Luke. They were just the advance guard, and plenty of others were waiting to follow, but even so, the number felt significant.
From the way the rest of the group held their silence, Fleet could tell that the atmosphere was weighing on them just as heavily. Probably the only thing they were relishing less was the prospect of actually reaching their destination. Fleet glanced at Nicky, and she nodded. A small, tight movement that managed to also convey a grimace.
They crossed the bridge—the one the search party had crossed themselves, and where they’d had their encounter with Lara Sweeney. Then, the river had been low, but already it had been swelled by the rain, and the water flowed quick and cold.
It wasn’t far after that to the trees, and once they were under the canopy, the sound of their footsteps somehow gave the place more substance. They still couldn’t see more than twenty meters ahead, but out here they probably wouldn’t have been able to anyway.
Fleet looked at Luke, who raised an arm and quickly let it fall again.
They walked on, in the direction Luke had indicated. Fleet could only measure in time, but it was barely half an hour later—half an hour since they’d broached the tree line—that Luke abruptly called a halt.
“Are we here?” Fleet asked him. He glanced around. Trees, leaves, fallen branches. Nothing unusual. Nothing distinct from the landscape they’d already passed.