Catch Us the Foxes

by Nicola West

  But Lily’s death had transformed it again. The area would never be the same. The atmosphere was now one of deep grief and sadness. Heavy. Suffocating. When people went there, the only thing they’d be able to think about was her. Her death. Her body. And now, those fucking marks.

  They’d haunt the nation just as they’d haunted me. Like a curse I’d unwillingly unleashed. They’d be forever tied to her like some grim legacy, and forever tied to the town.

  Who would the public believe? I wondered. Jarrah or the supposed cult members? I knew better than anyone just how alluring a conspiracy theory could be. How easy it was to allow yourself to be blinded and consumed by it.

  But, in the end, it didn’t really matter who or what the public believed. The damage was well and truly done. There would be a permanent question mark over the town and the people on Lily’s list. The people I’d unknowingly condemned. The people who were innocent.

  No wonder my dad had tried to cover the markings up. He knew the damage that they would do. After all, he’d seen what Jarrah’s lies had done to Lily.

  He really had been trying to protect me.

  I got out of the LandCruiser and walked towards the stables. The flowers adorning the stalls were all dying, and half of them had blown out of the caged doors. They formed a macabre red carpet, leading straight towards the cliff’s edge.

  I realised what I was doing there.

  I’d come to the showground to kill myself.

  The thought had popped into my mind like I was recalling an errand I had forgotten to do. There was something so mundane about it. Something so inevitable. I would die here – where she had – just like in my dream.

  People say that suicide is a coward’s way to die, but the decision was never mine. It was like a parasitic entity had reached its tendrils into my mind and affixed itself to my brain stem. I controlled it no more than I controlled the weather. No amount of wishing that the sun would come out could dissipate the storm clouds that were gathering in my mind.

  Besides, I wanted it to rain – with calm and collected assuredness.

  Nothing in my life ever felt easier. It made sense. I could understand what had caused Sharon to step out onto that highway. But this was different. Sharon had wanted to die because of someone else’s mistake. My mistake. She didn’t deserve to be punished.

  But I did.

  A gust of wind was channelled between the rows of stables, sending flowers and pine needles hurtling towards the cliff. Something else caught my eye – a glimmer on the old rope tied to Lily’s stable reflecting the sun’s light. Puzzled, I walked towards it and frowned. I remembered Sharon moving towards it during the press conference.

  I reached out my fingers and touched it, surprised by the crispy yet sticky texture. My fingertips glistened in the sun. They were covered in tiny crystal-like fragments. I ran my other hand along the door of the stable. It was slightly tacky, but it didn’t make my fingers shine. The substance on the rope wasn’t sea spray but it was definitely salt.

  My father was wrong. Lily hadn’t been killed by one of her crystals. She was killed by a fucking salt lick, a rock solid chunk of salt that had been attached to the stable door. Which meant his original theory was correct. Her death wasn’t premeditated. And the murder weapon wasn’t a secret coded message to me. Once again, I’d been blinded by a ridiculous conspiracy fuelled by Jarrah’s markings – a conspiracy I’d unleashed on the world.

  I walked up to the cliff’s edge, kicked my heels off and felt the spiky patches of grass prickle the soles of my feet. The sun was warm on my face and the cool ocean breeze was inviting. It drew me closer to the edge and the jagged rocks below.

  I decided to leave my shoes and the small handbag I’d taken to the funeral by the cliff’s edge so everyone would know where I’d gone in. It was likely that people would check the showground once I was reported missing. But, if for some reason my death went unnoticed, my body would probably eventually pop up on one of the town’s many beaches. It would depend on the current but – based on the number of corpses my father had retrieved from there – I knew that Bombo was the most likely candidate.

  For some strange reason, I found comfort in that. I’d always liked Bombo. Plus, that’s where she was now.

  I sat down on the edge of the cliff, my bare feet dangling over the rock shelf below, and I began drafting my suicide note in my mind. It would be my way of explaining things – of apologising to everyone I’d hurt – and I hoped that it’d be enough to mitigate the damage of my parcels.

  What was more powerful? I thought. A conspiracy theory or another dead girl?

  I pulled my phone out of my purse and turned it back on for the first time since the funeral. I’d decided to type my suicide note on it and email it to myself. I knew they’d check both my phone and computer. So, even if some lowlife decided to nick my phone, the cops would eventually see it.

  Almost immediately, my phone began chirping away with missed calls and messages from people who had witnessed my hasty exit from the cemetery. I scrolled through them, barely taking in what they said. It was strange reading the last words these people would ever say to me. And yet, I still felt completely numb.

  Until I saw the MMS.

  The one containing a photo of the stolen journals and a short message:

  meet me @ the bower

  we need 2 talk

  It was Dan. He must have taken the journals when he’d come into the cottage to get the frozen vegetables for Owen’s face. After all, he’d returned my shoes at the same time. When I got home, they’d been in my room – on my dresser. He’d been in there. The evening before Michael had been sitting on my bed. He had to have taken them then.

  How could I not have noticed? And, more importantly, how the fuck did he know that they were there, tucked under my mattress in a pillowcase?

  I stared down at the rock shelf below, suddenly nauseated by the sight of the sheer drop below my feet. I was overcome by rage.

  Jarrah. Fucking Jarrah.

  He was the one who deserved to die. Not me, and certainly not Sharon. He had done this. And I was going to make sure the whole fucking world knew it.

  CHAPTER 70

  ‘You fucking piece of shit,’ I seethed as I rounded the corner to the bower.

  From the second I’d learned that Dan had stolen the journals, I knew Jarrah would be there. And, sure enough, the two of them were both casually leaning against the school building waiting for me. They were still in their funeral suits and made a striking pair. From just one glance, I could tell that they were completely comfortable in each other’s presence. I felt a pang of envy. That was my best friend, and yet – as Jarrah had so gleefully pointed out – there were so many things that I didn’t know about him.

  It was Lily all over again.

  ‘Whoa, Lo,’ Dan said, his hands held up. ‘You’ve gotta calm down, okay? I know you’re angry b–’

  ‘You have no fucking idea!’

  ‘Lo!’

  ‘How can you stand by him?’ I said, shaking my head in disbelief. ‘After everything he’s done? After all the lies he’s told and people he’s hur–’

  ‘I’m not fucking lying,’ Jarrah interrupted.

  ‘Did you, or did you not carve those markings in Lily’s back?’ I snapped.

  His eyes flicked to the ground. ‘Look, I… it’s not that simple.’

  ‘Did you do it? Yes or no?’

  He shook his head in frustration and muttered something under his breath.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes, okay? But it’s like I told your dad – she asked me to do it. After she got rid of the actual brand that they gave her. Y’know the circle thing that looks like a flower? The Seed of Life? The cult’s symbol?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘The symbol from the clearing, you mean? The symbol you carved into the trees? Your new art project?’

  ‘No. Lily’s dad is full of shit. I didn’t do any of that. It was all them, Lo.’

 
‘So, what? It was just a bloody big coincidence that you needed to take a piss in the exact spot where the markings were carved into the trees? I’m not fucking stupid, Jarrah. You led me to that second clearing. You knew about Hoddles Track, you knew about the trail from the farmstead to the clearings, and you knew the electric fence was off. You’d obviously been there before.’

  He let out an exasperated sigh.

  ‘You can’t expect her to believe you if you’re not honest about everything, Jarrah,’ Dan interjected. ‘You lied about the markings, you lied about being questioned by the cops, you lied about submitting Lily’s picture and you lied about being in that rainforest.’

  ‘I didn’t lie. She just never bothered to ask. S’not my fault she’s a shitty journo. Though, with role models like Mark and Owen, who can blame her?’

  I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, but Dan did it for me. ‘Jesus, Jarrah. Don’t be such a fuckwit. You’re the one in the wrong here. You lied.’

  ‘Oh, please. You don’t get to play the BFF card now. If I’ve lied, then so has Marlowe. We both know that.’

  ‘When the fuck have I lied to you?’ I snapped.

  ‘What about your little rendezvous with the hunky journo, huh? His hotel room, Black Beach, the showground? You two have become nice and cosy over these past few days, haven’t you?’

  My eyes flicked to Dan. He was staring at the ground. His betrayal had a perplexing physicality to it – like it was squeezing my chest.

  ‘What the hell does any of that have to do with you?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m not stupid either, Marlowe. I know you’d do anything to get out of this place. I know you’ve been trying to sell her story and –’

  ‘Your story, you mean.’

  ‘No, Marlowe. Her story. The one she entrusted the two of us with. She chose us for a reason, and you’re jus–’

  ‘No, Jarrah. You chose us. Me and the men from this town. The ones who you feel have wronged you. The people on that list all deserve punishment for what happened to you but not like this. Lily was innocent. She was sick, and you took advantage of her. You poisoned her mind when she was at her most vulnerable. You made her believe the most horrifying things about her loved ones – the very people who were trying to protect her. For what? Some fucking vendetta?’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Lo,’ he said, his eyes wide. ‘You really think I still give a shit about all that – about them? It was the best bloody thing that ever happened to me. It got me out of this hellhole. I should be fuckin’ thanking them.’

  ‘And yet, here you are.’

  ‘For Lily, Lo. And for you. On the train trip back, I realised how fucked it was to expect you to face this on your own. I came here to support you. You said you wanted me at the funeral.’

  I scoffed.

  ‘It’s true, Lo. And everything else is too. Do you genuinely think I’d do something like that to her for revenge?’

  I stared at the man before me. He seemed like an entirely different person to the one who had been goading me and excusing his lies only minutes before. He was hurt. And shocked – shocked that I would even contemplate the things I had accused him of.

  ‘Then why did you do it?’ I asked. ‘If it wasn’t revenge? Giving me the journals, taking me to the clearings, convincing me to post the packages?’

  ‘Because I believe Lily.’

  A startling realisation dawned on me. It was a feeling deep within my gut that I just couldn’t shake. Every time I attempted to quash the words in my mind, they would bubble back up to the surface – loud and assured.

  Jarrah Watson was telling the truth.

  I didn’t understand it. I couldn’t understand it. And yet, in my heart of hearts, I believed Jarrah. But still, none of it made any fucking sense. I slumped down under the shade of the bower’s trees and gave Jarrah one final chance to explain things – to help me finally understand.

  To his credit, he did.

  Jarrah had been to the clearings before, but he swore that he wasn’t the one who had carved the symbols into the trees or created the markings on the ground. He just needed to see the area for himself. When Lily had gone off the medication, and the memories had started flooding her mind, he’d been sceptical of her claims and had decided to take things into his own hands.

  He went into that rainforest – without Lily’s knowledge – having gleaned enough information from her to navigate the area. When he saw the clearings with his own eyes, he was appalled with himself for not believing her and for instead assuming she was losing her mind. He decided to do anything he could to protect her.

  In theory, it made sense. But I still didn’t know if I could trust him. I’d been fucked over far too many times. So, despite what my gut was telling me, I remained sceptical.

  He also admitted to carving the marks in Lily’s back. The ones I had seen and photographed. But he was adamant that Lily had asked him to do it, just like she’d asked him to submit her artwork to the show. The markings were protection runes, and he only carved them when Lily had threatened that she would do them herself if he didn’t.

  He took the threat seriously. After all, it wasn’t the first time Lily had hurt herself.

  The patch of missing flesh finally made sense.

  CHAPTER 71

  ‘She turned up on my doorstep the day she had the dream about the ritual in the clearing – the one I told you about,’ Jarrah said. ‘The same day that she first noticed the brandings.’

  ‘Wait,’ I replied. ‘I thought you did them.’

  ‘No, I did the rune carvings. The ones you saw. The cult’s marks were different – like a cattle brand. It was the flower symbol in the clearings. The Seed of Life. You never saw it on her back, but I’m guessing you saw the remnants of it?’

  I nodded, remembering the wound on the small of her back.

  ‘She had seven circles,’ Jarrah continued. ‘One brand for every hunt she was forced to participate in. Just like she said in her diaries.’

  ‘And what? She just randomly decided she wanted seven more and asked you to do it?’

  ‘They were protection symbols, Lo.’

  ‘Fat lot of good that did.’

  ‘Not for her. For the children from the seven hunts she participated in. She knew they’d die eventually. After all, she knew she was supposed to kill her first victim this year – when she received her eighth branding.’

  I remembered the words Lily had written in the journals: ‘I’d rather die than receive that mark.’

  Was that why she had made Jarrah submit her drawing? Because she knew the cult would kill her for exposing the truth? Was her death actually a suicide?

  ‘I think she saw the protection runes as some form of atonement,’ Jarrah went on, interrupting my thoughts. ‘Carved into her flesh – just like the cult’s brandings had been. It was stupid, but after what she did to her back, I wasn’t gonna leave her to her own devices again.’

  I looked over at Dan, and he nodded solemnly.

  ‘When I opened my front door that day, she practically collapsed in my arms,’ Jarrah continued. ‘Which was when I noticed that her back was covered in blood. She’d tried to bandage it, but there was just too much – it had soaked through everything, even her clothes.’

  ‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t she go to the bloody hospital?’

  ‘She was terrified, Lo. She didn’t know who she could trust.’

  ‘Please tell me you at least took her there?’

  ‘I tried, believe me. But she wouldn’t go. The closest hospital to me was still part of her father’s network. Besides, she didn’t want anything on her records.’

  ‘So what? You just patched her up yourself?’

  ‘No, my med student friend came over and helped her out.’ I noticed he’d nervously looked at Dan. ‘Y’know,’ he continued. ‘Cleaned it up, bandaged it properly, got her on some antibiotics.’

  ‘Your drug dealer, you mean?’

  He sighed and nodded. />
  ‘And I’m guessing he’s not the kind of guy who’d feel particularly comfortable talking to the police or being an expert witness in a criminal case, right?’

  Jarrah nodded again.

  How convenient, I thought.

  ‘At the very least please tell me you took photos,’ I pleaded.

  ‘Yeah, of course I did.’

  ‘Then why the fuck didn’t you give them to me to include in the packages? It’s better proof than all of the other stuff combined!’

  ‘Yeah, right. The only thing it’s proof of is that I have photos of a dead girl’s freshly mutilated back. So excuse me for not sharing. It doesn’t matter that she did it herself. Your fuckhead of a father and the rest of the pigs were already trying to pin her murder on me based on the runes.’

  I opened my mouth, but he continued.

  ‘You do realise that if I hadn’t been photographed at that party on Saturday night I’d probably be lying in an intensive care unit now, right? And that everyone would have thought I was her killer?’

  I didn’t know what to think any more.

  ‘Sure,’ Jarrah continued, ‘that poor carny would still be up and around. But if it’s him versus me, I know which one of us I’d prefer to be a bloody vegetable.’

  ‘I’m not talking about the photos of her back after she removed the cult’s brandings,’ I said. ‘I’m talking about the photos of the brandings.’

  ‘What photos of the brandings? There aren’t any.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked. A strange sensation crept along my skin. ‘You didn’t take photos of the brandings when you saw them?’

  ‘No, that’s the thing – I never saw the brandings themselves. Just the pulpy mess where they’d been. She started hacking away at her back the second she saw them in the bathroom mirror – after her dream. She told me she grabbed one of her dad’s razor blades and just went to fucking town on it.’

  I felt like the ground had fallen out from under me. I locked eyes with an equally bewildered Dan and realised that he was thinking the exact same thing. It made sense. It all finally made fucking sense. Jarrah hadn’t poisoned Lily with his lies. It was the other way around.