But will she turn on us again? Blanche is right. Faith kept rooting until she found the evidence she was looking for. And now she’s promised to drop the murder idea again.
Am I being naive in thinking that Faith has really put it behind her?
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes. Only one more night. We only have to make it until morning. We’ll leave. Find help. If Faith has something else to focus on, something other than Paige, she might drop her idea.
God, I wish for a way to convince her that Paige committed suicide. If only she’d left a note…
I could forge one. It’s a horrible, stupid thought. But if I pen a little letter from Paige admitting to taking her life, then so much of this will be settled.
Until Faith matches up the handwriting, that is.
She will do that. She’ll catch that lie quicker than a snake striking a mouse, and the situation will become worse. If an officer comes and if Paige really did tell them that one of us pushed Brittany, then the best thing is to explain to the officer Faith’s condition.
She’s fragile, I’ll say, a kleptomaniac. The secret has driven her crazy, and now she’s hatched a plan that Paige blackmailed us. It’s some psychosis, Officer. She’s not in her right mind.
Being around a dead body will do that to anyone.
God, what is wrong with me? I can’t do that to Faith. No. I have to help her. I have to get us out of here.
Blanche and I will keep an eye on Faith. We’ll do it together. We can take shifts making sure that she sleeps. If we keep Faith under surveillance, there won’t be a chance for her to root through Paige’s things for something else that can frame Blanche for murder.
Blanche will go for the idea. But first things first, we must all be on the same page.
The cold seems to creep into the cabin even worse now. We’ve dropped the thermostat down to sixty-three degrees, and I’ve stoked the fire as high as I dare build it, but yet the blanket draped over my shoulders still doesn’t warm me enough.
It’s not the cold air that’s affecting me. It’s everything. It’s not knowing what my family is doing or how they’re doing. But I have to trust that Tal is keeping the kids warm, that he’s roasting marshmallows and keeping their bellies filled with hot chocolate.
It’s times like these that I wonder what my sister would do. She could be such a peacemaker between the four of us, and I wonder how she would approach us now that we’re under this duress.
It’s almost like I can feel her ghostly hands on my face, caressing my cheeks and telling me not to cry, not to worry, because it will all work out—things always do.
But I am afraid. I feel cut off from society in a way that I’ve never experienced before. It is one thing not to be able to call someone. It’s another entirely to not know how they’re doing.
And it’s entirely another to be sitting below a body that is slowly decomposing above us.
I push down my fear, willing it to vanish, but it is lodged in my throat, threatening to suffocate me.
Blanche and Faith think that I’m perfect, that my life is. But what they don’t realize is that all perfection is a lie. I’ve suffered so deeply. Yes, I have a strong marriage. One reason why it is so is because of the tragedy of my father’s and sister’s deaths. It makes me hold on to things, keep them strapped to my heart. I grasp what I love and cherish it above all else.
A tear falls to my cheek, and I glance around to make sure no one has noticed. Blanche searches a bookcase for the cord while Faith flips through a magazine.
We’re waiting, but for what?
Will all of this end well, or will it crash into more tragedy?
Memories flash in my mind. I see the inside of the SUV. The glass has shattered on us. I’m screaming. Jonas is screaming. A man comes to the door and helps get the car seat out. My sister lies on the ground and I reach her before she speaks her last breath, and in that last breath, I make my promise.
I close my hand into a tight fist, crushing the tissue that lies inside. I won’t abandon Faith. I have to trust that she will move forward and forget about her silly idea.
It’s stupid to sit here and ponder it, try to figure out the ins and outs of Faith’s brain and how she fit such an idea together.
The best thing that’s ever helped anyone is progress, looking forward.
I slap my knee, and both of them glance in my direction. “Faith, Blanche and I’ve been talking.”
“Mmm hmmm?” Faith already knows. It’s obvious. She must have heard just about everything while standing on the other side of the glass door. “I saw the two of you outside. You looked pretty chummy.”
“We’re trying to figure a way out of this, out of here.”
“Why don’t we just wait until the ice melts?” she says.
My eyes narrow. It’s not lost on me that Faith could be suggesting that in order to wait for the police. Must redirect her.
“We don’t know when that will be,” I slowly answer. “When the ice will melt, I mean. That might not be for a few more days.”
Faith flips a page of the magazine.
Blanche’s stare spears at me.
I clear my throat. “We can’t leave Paige up there much longer. It’s not good for…” Her body? Her soul? “It’s not good for us. I don’t know what it does to people to be in the same space with a decaying body. For our own mental health, we need to get out. That’s what Blanche and I were talking about.”
Blanche sighs. She has to go along with this now. The cat’s out of the bag.
I continue. “We have to leave, Faith. It might be another two days before we can. And even if we can drive, Paige’s car is only a two-seater. Someone will have to stay here while the others go.”
“Unless we find the cable first,” Blanche says. “We might still discover it.”
“What’s the use?” Faith says. “It’s hidden. We won’t find it.”
Blanche’s brow curls. “You don’t happen to know where it is, do you?”
Faith scoffs. “I didn’t hide it.”
“Are you sure?” Blanche again. “You’re the one who wanted one of us to confess.”
“That doesn’t mean that I want to be stuck here.”
“You’re not helping me search.”
Faith throws up her arms. “Fine. I’ll help you look. But I have the feeling that this is another one of Paige’s surprises. Surprise! You can’t call anyone. Surprise! I’m dead.”
I flinch. Blanche winces. Faith beelines for a wooden trunk.
We scour the living room again and the kitchen. I talk while I search the cupboards.
“So Faith,” I press on, my head stuck in the spice cabinet, “Blanche and I want to head out on foot in the morning. We’ll all go. Get bundled up and walk toward the main road. It’ll be rough with the ice, but we should be able to find a cell signal. The state road can’t be more than two miles down the driveway.”
“We might not even get a signal then.” Faith opens the dishwasher. The scent of decaying food hits me and I cough. Her nose wrinkles. “Ugh. We never ran this. Now the food is molding.”
“Close it,” I say. “We can’t waste the power.”
She does so slowly, pressing the door shut and leaning against it. Faith looks at me with big doe eyes. “Do you think that we can get a signal?”
“I do. We don’t have the right shoes or clothes for the ice, but we can try. We can layer on more socks and go slowly. We have to call someone. It’s not respectful for us to leave Paige like that.”
It makes more sense to show Faith how our actions could hurt Paige than to say how they benefit us. Faith only wants things to benefit her right now, but subtly shifting the narrative to make it about doing what is right for Paige will help her see that we still care about our dead friend, that neither of us would have killed her.
It works. Faith nods in agreement. Her face starts to crumple, and she inhales hard, stopping the tears. “I just want everything to be okay,” she tell
s me in an almost childlike way.
I pull her to me as she sobs. I smooth her frizzy curls and hold her tight. “I promise that it’s all going to be all right. I swear. But for now, we need to try to find the cable. If we can’t, then we have to leave tomorrow, get a cell signal, and call the authorities.”
“What about the detective?”
I lean back and thumb away her tears. “Faith, don’t you think if that was true, that someone would have been here by now? I know there’s a big mess going on outside, but an officer would have found a way to come out and talk to us.”
She hiccups. “I guess.”
“I don’t think it’s true, Faith. I don’t think Paige contacted anyone. I think we’re in the clear. We have to believe that. I believe it. Don’t you, Blanche?”
She has just entered from the hallway. Blanche rests her shoulder on the doorframe and nods. “I do. We’re in the clear. No one knows about the letter. No one knows about Brittany. We’re safe.”
Faith takes a step back and wipes the tears that roll down her cheeks. “Okay. If y’all say so. We’re safe. I believe you.” She blows her nose on a tissue that I hand her. “So we look for the cable. But if we don’t find it in the next hour, can we have some wine?”
I laugh and it’s like releasing water from a dam. It swooshes from my chest quickly. She’s back! Faith is back, and she’s with us. I nearly howl with laughter.
I clap my hands with happiness. “Yes, we can open the wine. We can open as much of it as you want. But first, we need to keep looking. Let’s tear this cabin apart searching for that cable.”
Faith opens the cabinet doors under the sink. “We’re going to find it. I know we will.”
As soon as the words escape her mouth, the lights brown down once more.
Chapter 42
In one hour we open every drawer, throw down every pillow, and yank out every blanket that we can possibly find. We rifle through every slot on a shelf and shuffle through the paperwork in the desk.
After we finish pillaging downstairs, we hit the upstairs and ransack the bedrooms.
But we can’t find the damn cable.
Tired and hungry, we reconvene downstairs. Faith already has a bottle of wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other.
“Y’all”—she sounds like her old self—“we worked hard and tomorrow this whole place is gonna be a horrible memory. We’re going to wrap up and get out. Since we only have tonight left, I suggest we have a little bit of fun.”
She opens the wine and pours two glasses before saying to me, “Court, you sure you don’t want one?”
“I’m fine.”
Blanche strides over and takes the heaping glass from Faith. “Then grab some water. We’re going to toast.”
I grab a bottle from the fridge. Blanche and Faith have glasses lifted.
Faith sips from her rim. “What are we toasting to?”
Blanche waits until I’m ready. “To keeping secrets.”
“Appropriate.” I unscrew the cap of my water. “To keeping secrets.”
“To keeping secrets,” Faith murmurs. We each sip after our morbid salut. “Now. Let’s go have some fun.”
Faith pours up a bowl of popcorn and sets it on the table. She keeps the wineglasses filled, and before too long, Blanche’s eyes are glassy, her words slurry and slow.
“I know y’all want to know about Derek, don’t you?” she whispers in a secretive way.
I toss a pillow at her. “Blanche!”
She gives me a sloppy smirk along with a hike of her shoulder. “Well, don’t y’all?”
“He’s so hot.” Faith tosses a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “I’ve always wondered what he’d be like.”
Blanche clicks her tongue and leans back on the couch. “Let me tell you, he’s as good in bed as he is hot. And he’s great at the girl sex—you know, good with his tongue.”
Faith bursts into laughter. “Oh my gosh. I can’t believe we’re talking about this. This is so wrong.”
I groan. “We don’t have to talk about this. It’s not very polite.”
“Since when the hell have I ever been polite?” Blanche asks.
“Since never,” I joke.
She jabs her glass at me. “Exactly. I’ve never been polite, and I’m not about to start. But now I’m so worried about what’s going to happen.” She leans forward. The wineglass dangles precariously in her fingers. “Is Jeremy still going to want the divorce? What if he wants to patch things up, should I let him?”
“Of course not.” Faith speaks through her popcorn. “He threw you away for another woman. You can’t trust him again.”
Blanche lifts her eyebrows at me. “She speaks the truth. When someone has killed your trust one time, should you trust them again?”
Faith, oblivious that Blanche means her, considers it. “I guess it depends on how badly they acted. Jeremy told you that he was in love with someone else. He wants out.”
Her words hit Blanche hard. She shuts her eyes and exhales. “I know. I just wish…”
We’d never met Paige? She hadn’t agreed to that stupid arrangement?
Blanche’s eyes pop open. “I just wish it had all gone down differently, but you know what? I should’ve known it would end that way. I mean, he was already screwing somebody else. But I got to taste someone too, didn’t I? And boy, did I like that taste.”
I take a handful of popcorn. “Do you think you’ll still see him?”
“Oh, I don’t know… He’ll be hurting badly after this. Probably won’t want to have anything to do with me.”
And we’re definitely tipsy if we’re discussing Blanche taking up with Paige’s now widower. Wow. We’ve come a long way in only a few hours.
“It’s probably for the best if you don’t get together.” Faith takes Blanche’s now empty wineglass from her and goes to the table. She talks over her shoulder as she pours another glass for Blanche. “I mean, you can’t be with him.” Her words are not quite as slurred as Blanche’s, but they’re getting there. “How wrong would that look—you winding up with Derek after his wife dies?” She crosses back and presents the glass with a flourish. Blanche laughs and takes it. “You could always try with him. You know, see how it goes.”
Blanche smirks. “Yeah, let’s try that—Derek and I just test out the waters, see how folks at church look at us when they see us together a month after Paige’s death. Yep, looks bad. Look like…”
Looks like I killed her.
Blanche sobers and takes a sip of white. “Now that we’re all baring our souls thanks to wine and popcorn, Faith, tell us something that we don’t know.”
Faith huddles in a chair and curls her legs up under her. An uncomfortable laugh rumbles in her throat. “Something you don’t know about me? What could y’all not know?”
Blanche extends her legs, points her toes. “Something besides your secret. Give us some dirty details.”
Faith ruffles her hair and thinks about it. While she does that, I toss another log on the fire. The wood is still damp, but the wet burns off quickly and avoids plunging the cabin into smoke.
“Well,” Faith starts slowly, “often I feel underappreciated by Scott.”
Blanche waits before laughing. “Is that all? I felt under appreciated by Jeremy every day.”
“Blanche,” I chastise. “You asked her.”
“Sorry. Yes, go on.”
Faith runs her finger over the rim of her glass. The glow of the firelight licks at all our faces. Faith’s cheeks are red from wine and the fire.
“I mean that he hardly talks to me. If it’s not about food or the children, he doesn’t have anything to say.”
“Oh, Faith—” I say.
“It’s okay.” She shrugs. “It is what it is. I think that’s part of the reason why I do what I do. It fills a void that my relationship with him doesn’t. There are times when he doesn’t even talk to me before we make love. He just grunts, rolls on top of me, and goes at it.” I expe
ct tears but see none. There is sadness in Faith, but anger drives her words. “It used to upset me, but now it just makes me mad. Whenever I take something, I imagine throwing it in Scott’s face, letting him know who I really am.”
“But you’ve said that you can’t lose your family,” I point out.
“Oh no, he can never know. I can never be discovered, but I do fantasize about it. He thinks there’s nothing to me, that all I am is a vagina and a mouth, someone to watch the kids and keep them out of his hair. But I’m more than that.”
A long stretch of silence fills the air until Blanche says, “You are more than that, Faith. You’re a fabulous bitch. Remember that.”
I laugh and glance at Faith, whose face is drawn in an unreadable mask. “I’m not a bitch.”
“She was kidding,” I say playfully. “Blanche meant it in a way to suggest that you’re a strong woman—which you are.”
Faith nods absently. “I just don’t appreciate being called a bitch when clearly I’m not the one who’s a bitch.”
“Never could take a joke,” Blanche says. “It was a joke, Faith. I’m joking. I know we’ve got some bad blood between all of us, but I’m trying to put it aside.”
Faith presses her fingers to her nose and closes her eyes. “Sorry. I guess I’m just feeling kind of raw lately.”
“We all are. It’s not just you.” I sip my water. “It’s normal. But let’s just keep enjoying tonight.”
Blanche glances at me. “You know, when you came back, after the accident, I thought you’d gotten really snobby.”
“Me?” A cold draft blows across my shoulders. I pull a blanket to me. “What makes you say that?”
“You were different,” Blanche says. “I realize the circumstances were horrible, but you didn’t seem like yourself.”
“Yes, she did,” Faith snaps. “She seemed exactly like herself. I mean, who would she be?”
“No one,” Blanche muses. “It was one of those things. I’m sure that I was different, too. I probably acted stuck up. We hadn’t seen each other or spoken in years. There were bound to be a few bumps as we got to know each other again.”
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