“And a perverted kissing booth owner,” I added.
“What?”
Landon sighed. “Thank you, Bay. I hadn’t included that part in my report.”
Whoops. “I ... didn’t know that.”
He glanced over his shoulder and offered me a half-smile. “It’s not the end of the world. All sorts of truths are coming out here.”
“Apparently so.” Hannah folded her arms across her chest. “Who is the perverted guy? And what is a kissing booth?”
Landon perked up markedly. “A kissing booth is the greatest invention this side of bacon. They have it at all the festivals. You get to take your significant other into a dark booth that smells like cinnamon rolls and make out with her.”
“That’s ... lovely. What do you do after that?”
“Get snacks,” Landon replied. “After you work up an appetite in the kissing booth you need to bolster yourself with elephant ears and chocolate.”
“Todd Lipscomb runs the kissing booth in Hemlock Cove,” I explained. “He was working with the girls on their plan.”
“Because he’s a pervert?”
“And he wanted money.”
“His part in the plot was harder to explain away,” Landon said. “That’s why I didn’t mention him in my report.”
“But he’s still running free,” Hannah prodded. “That can’t be safe with teenaged girls running around.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Aunt Tillie was back to looking smug. “Bay did let me give him nightmares. If he even thinks about an underaged girl, he has dreams about giant spiders eating his sausage link.”
I shrugged when Hannah turned her questioning expression to me. “I don’t feel guilty about it, if that’s what you’re wondering. He had it coming. He claimed the girls terrorized him into helping, but I didn’t believe him.”
“Nobody believed him,” Landon said as we pulled into the driveway of Amelia’s house. “If you want to talk to the girls, they’re likely all here. Just be forewarned, they don’t remember everything that happened a few weeks ago. Bay left some of their memories purposely fuzzy.”
“Okay, well, I guess we’ll take it one step at a time.”
“These girls are manipulative,” I warned as Hannah unfastened her seatbelt. “They might not remember everything that happened — we wanted to carve the magical memories out of their heads and leave as much of the rest as possible — but that doesn’t mean they won’t try to bamboozle you.”
“I’ve dealt with teenagers before,” Hannah reassured me. “Once we’re done talking to the girls, I wouldn’t mind seeing this spot with the magical fragments you mentioned.”
“Sure.” Landon opened my door and helped me out. “I don’t know how Hollow Creek can help us on this case, but I’m willing to try anything at this point.”
AMELIA, SOPHIE AND EMMA WERE GATHERED around the television. Tina showed us into the living room and then left, which I found strange. She hadn’t even asked why we wanted to talk to the girls this time. One look at Hannah told me she found it equally interesting.
“Girls, this is Agent Hannah Waters,” Chief Terry began. “She’s with the FBI. She’s here to help us with Paisley’s case.”
“Another FBI agent?” Emma’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know two could be on the same case.”
“I’m a different type of FBI agent,” Hannah explained as she sat at the table across from them. “I’m a profiler. Do you know what that is?”
“It’s like that show,” Amelia replied, her eyes glued to the television. Some reality show I didn’t recognize was airing, and she seemed completely disinterested in the conversation. “That one with the hot guy on it.”
“Shemar Moore,” I supplied.
Amelia shrugged. “If you say so.”
Chief Terry leaned over and snagged the remote from Amelia before she could protest and killed the television. “Focus on Agent Waters,” he ordered. “She’s a professional here to help us figure out who murdered your friend. Show some respect.”
If he’d pinned me with that same look when I was the girls’ age I would’ve burst into tears and begged his forgiveness. Amelia and her cohorts were different.
“You’re not my father,” Amelia challenged. “This is my house.”
“Paisley is dead,” Chief Terry shot back. “Don’t you want to help us figure out who killed her?”
“We don’t know who killed her,” Sophie insisted. She, at least, showed a modicum of emotion. I had a feeling, however, that the person she was feeling sorry for was herself.
“We already told you that,” Emma added. “How would we know who killed her?”
“You’re her friends,” Hannah said in a soft voice. “It’s your job to protect her, even in death. There’s a predator out there. He might not stop with Paisley. We want to make sure you’re protected.”
Amelia snorted. “We’re not in any danger.”
I jerked my eyes to her. “How do you know?” I asked. “Unless you know who killed Paisley, you can’t possibly know that.”
“I don’t know who killed Paisley, but I know we’re safe,” Amelia replied. “We haven’t done anything to deserve being killed, so why would anybody want to kill us?”
“Why do you think Paisley deserved to be killed?” Hannah asked.
“I didn’t say she did.”
“You indicated that you hadn’t done anything worth being killed over. That seems to suggest you believe Paisley did something to earn her death.”
“I didn’t say that.” Annoyance burned bright in Amelia’s eyes. “Why are you putting words in my mouth? I would never say Paisley deserved what happened to her.”
Hannah regarded Amelia for a moment. “Okay, let’s start over. I fear we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”
“Or you could just go,” Amelia suggested. “We don’t have anything to talk to you about.”
Hannah ignored her. “What did you feel when you heard your friend was dead?”
“What do you mean?” Sophia asked. “How were we supposed to feel?”
“There is no right or wrong answer to the question.”
“I felt sad,” Emma volunteered, her bottom lip quivering. “I kept thinking about all the stuff we would never get to do together.”
“That’s quite normal,” Hannah encouraged, her eyes drifting to Sophia. “And you?”
“I didn’t really believe it,” Sophia said. “I mean ... it made no sense. We’d just seen her. I still don’t know that I really believe she’s dead.”
“Maybe you should go to the funeral home and take a look at her body,” Amelia suggested. “That will make you believe.”
“Is that what you did?” Hannah asked.
Amelia shrugged.
“Is it?” Hannah persisted.
“I might’ve gone down there last night,” Amelia replied. “They were just getting her body in. They didn’t want to show me, but I made them.”
“And what did you think about what you saw?”
“That her hair was a mess. She would’ve hated people seeing her with her hair looking like that.”
“The funeral home will make sure her hair is okay,” Hannah reassured her. “What else did you think?”
“That she looked like wax.”
“Is that the first time you’ve seen a dead body?”
Amelia shrugged again, noncommittal. “I saw my grandmother in the funeral home two years ago. She looked like wax, too, but a different kind of wax.”
“Paisley hasn’t been treated yet by the funeral home,” Hannah explained. “She’ll look more natural next time you see her.”
“That’s a weird thing to say.” Amelia let loose a derisive snort. “She’s dead and somehow that’s not natural. They’re going to pump chemicals into her and you think that will make her look natural. I don’t think that’s the case.”
Hannah pressed. “You don’t show much emotion, Amelia. None of you really do, but you’re being purposely co
ld. Why do you think that is?”
For the first time since we’d walked through the door, Amelia showed an actual emotion. Sure, it was annoyance, but it was a genuine feeling. For some reason, I was relieved to see it.
“What is it that you want me to feel?” Amelia demanded. “What emotion will make you feel better about our friend dying?”
“There’s no right emotion.” Hannah remained calm. “You don’t have to feel a specific way. That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is the problem?” Sophie asked. “If we’re not supposed to react in a specific way, why are you giving us crap?”
“Because your friend is dead. She was killed in brutal fashion. Friends care about one another. I would expect sadness ... or even anger. I would expect confusion. I might even expect disbelief.”
“Well ... I guess you should arrest us then,” Amelia drawled. “We’re going to feel what we want to feel and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”
“Fair enough.” Hannah straightened and glanced between the girls one more time. “Am I to assume you still don’t know anything about what happened to her?”
“We know she was an idiot who brought this on herself,” Amelia replied. “If she’d been with us, this never would’ve happened. She took off on her own. She was messing with some guy she wouldn’t tell us about. That’s on her.”
“I see.” Hannah stood. “I’m sorry for your loss, girls. Whether you believe it or not, you’re going to have feelings about this eventually. I urge you to talk to a professional when those feelings bubble up.”
“Yeah. We’ll get right on that.” Amelia held out her hand to Chief Terry. “My remote please.”
Chief Terry slapped the device into her palm. “We’re not done here, girls,” he warned. “We will be back.”
“Next time leave the blondes and the old lady behind,” Amelia suggested. “Actually, you don’t have to come either. Send the hot FBI agent and we’ll be happy.”
Emma’s eyes sparkled. “So, so happy.”
Chief Terry grunted and then motioned us to the front door. I was almost out of the room before I realized Aunt Tillie had remained rooted to her spot. She hadn’t moved a muscle, staring at the girls.
“What are you doing?” I asked when I returned to her side.
“It’s like a movie,” Aunt Tillie noted, not caring in the least that she was talking loudly enough for the girls to hear. “They’re like Stepford teenagers.”
It wasn’t a bad description. “They’re grieving,” I said. “Nobody grieves the same.”
“I don’t know what they’re doing, but it’s not grieving.” Aunt Tillie met Amelia’s defiant stare for another few seconds and then moved with me toward the door. “That’s not grief, Bay. It’s something else.”
I waited until we were outside. “Well, now what? They’re not going to help us.”
“Definitely not,” Hannah agreed. She stood in the middle of the yard and stared at the house. “Those are the most emotionally vacant girls I’ve ever come across. If teenagers could be profiled as sociopaths under the auspices of the law, I would diagnose them right now.”
It was a sobering thought, one I wasn’t quite willing to embrace. “What if I did that to them?”
Hannah flicked her eyes to me. “What do you mean?”
“What if I’m the reason they’re like that?” I persisted.
“Why would you say that?” Landon asked. “You’re not responsible for them.”
“No, but I messed with their minds. They weren’t like that before I shuffled their memories. They might’ve been lying to us last time, but they showed emotion. It’s as if I drained that out of them.”
“They were putting on an act last time,” Landon argued. “Maybe they’re really not capable of emotion. All that crap they put out there for us to absorb last time was fake. It could be that they’re only capable of being fake.”
“Maybe, but what are the odds of four legitimate sociopaths finding one another in their teens in one small town?” I challenged. “Think about it. True sociopaths are rare. How would we get four of them?”
“Bay is right,” Hannah interjected. “True sociopaths lack a conscious. They can’t feel guilt. They don’t have the ability to make and keep friends.”
“Unless they’re covering,” Landon said. “If they all need friends to appear normal maybe this is their way of covering what they really are.”
“We don’t have firm numbers on this because most sociopaths don’t get diagnosed, but it’s believed that three to five percent of the population are sociopaths. For those four girls to all be sociopaths and find one another, well, the odds would be astronomical.”
“Then what else could it be?” Landon demanded.
Hannah turned her gaze to me. There was worry there. “Is it possible Bay changed their personalities when she modified their memories?”
“Bay didn’t do that alone,” Aunt Tillie argued. “I was there with her. I’ve modified memories before. She didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.”
“Then maybe it’s something else.”
“Like what?” I asked. “What else could it be?”
“I’m not sure. Those girls were completely devoid of emotion. The only time any of them reacted with something akin to a genuine feeling was when Amelia yelled at us. Even that didn’t feel as vehement as it should have.”
“So what do we do?” Landon asked. “How do we break them down?”
“I don’t know that we can.” Hannah dragged a restless hand through her hair. “I’m not sure those girls have anything to do with what’s going on, but if we’re going to talk to them again, we’re going to need a different approach.”
“I guess that means Hollow Creek,” Landon said. “You wanted to visit there.”
Hannah agreed. “I need to see where all of this started. At the very least, it might give me a few ideas.”
I didn’t know how that was possible, but she was in charge of our investigative course. We had to follow where she led ... at least for now.
17
Seventeen
Landon ceded his spot in the front to Hannah and climbed in the backseat with me for the ride to Hollow Creek.
“I’m fine,” I said when he plucked my hand off my lap and studied my palm.
“Did I say you weren’t fine?” He kept his voice low. Aunt Tillie shared the back bench with us. “Maybe I just want to sit next to my future wife. Have you ever considered that?”
“Not really.”
Aunt Tillie stirred. “You need to get over it,” she instructed Landon. “She’s berating herself and she won’t stop any time soon. You’ll spoil her by doting on her this way.”
Landon turned to her. “What do you suggest I do, oh wise oracle?”
“Let her stew. She’ll get over herself eventually. She always does.”
“I’m not feeling sorry for myself,” I insisted. “I’m just ... thinking.”
“Right.” Aunt Tillie stretched her legs out. “I happen to know what you’re thinking, and it’s a waste of time.”
I wasn’t in the mood to kowtow to her nonsense and yet I was curious. “What am I thinking?”
“That you somehow altered those girls.”
“Well ... what else is there to think? It’s statistically impossible for three sociopaths to find one another at that age.”
“No, it’s not. It’s rare, but not impossible. For all we know, these girls were drawn to each other because they are sociopaths.”
“Paisley too?” Landon asked.
Aunt Tillie nodded. “There’s no way she would be the only normal one in that group.”
“So you didn’t do this to them, Bay,” Landon pressed. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“They weren’t like this before,” I insisted.
“We don’t know that. They were acting when we crossed paths with them the first time. Nothing they said or did can be considered true.”
I wasn’t convinced, but I didn’t want to argue. “Okay.” I leaned back and closed my eyes.
“Bay.” Landon slipped his arm around my back, fighting his seatbelt so he could cuddle closer. “This is my least favorite thing about you,” he said. “You constantly blame yourself for things you can’t control. You’re a martyr.”
I shot him a dirty look. “I am not a martyr.”
“You are.” He brushed my hair from my eyes. “You can’t blame yourself for what’s going on. It’s not on you. None of it is. Those girls did this.”
“Unless they didn’t.”
“Stop it.” He was firm. “We didn’t have many options. We couldn’t put them in jail because of the magic. We couldn’t kill them because ... well, you know. What did that leave? You came up with the only option you could.”
I knew he was right, but it still bothered me. “I’m not a martyr,” I muttered.
He laughed. “I love you.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek.
“I’m not a martyr,” I repeated.
“You’re a total martyr,” Aunt Tillie shot back. “You’re the biggest martyr I know.”
I rested my head on Landon’s shoulder. “I’m not a martyr.”
“You’re my angel,” Landon whispered, his lips so close to my ear I shuddered. “I’m going to take you to heaven later if your back is better.”
“My back is fine.”
“Then heaven it is.”
Aunt Tillie leaned forward and hit Chief Terry’s arm. “I’m gonna need a barf bag back here,” she announced.
“Stop being a pain,” Chief Terry barked.
“I can’t control my urge to regurgitate around these two idiots.” She jerked her thumb at Landon and me. “They’re disgusting and I hate them.”
“Well, maybe we can add that to our list of fun activities for the evening,” Landon whispered. “How long do you think it will take to push Aunt Tillie over the edge?”
“Not long.”
“Something to look forward to.”
“Yeah.” I tried to force myself out of my funk. Landon was right. I wasn’t responsible for what happened to the girls. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something very big was happening to them ... and I was at least partially to blame.
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