Dirty Girls

by Lily White

  Many have the same reaction when a friend or family member meets with a violent end. It reminds them of their own vulnerability, the death an insidious whisper that the same could happen to them.

  I’d already decided to speak with Olive before leaving when a woman I assumed was Kendall Warner walked through the diner doors, along with another woman with whom I wasn’t familiar.

  Kendall was nothing like I’d imagined.

  Watching Tristan’s expression change at the sound of his ex-girlfriend’s voice, I noted the tension around his lips that remained when he smiled. His head turned slightly to glance over his shoulder, his eyes catching her in their stare, watching closely as she walked the short distance to where Olive was standing.

  My assumption had been correct, however. His change in behavior told me everything I needed to know about the feelings he still had for her.

  When he returned his attention to me, the anger I’d observed in him earlier was gone, sorrow now present that he failed to hide.

  Body language can tell you everything you need to know about the person sitting in front of you, and it was obvious that Kendall’s presence was enough to shove Tristan into a small box, tying him down with a level of insecurity I hadn’t witnessed earlier.

  He wasn’t ruled by ego like his brother. No. Tristan was ruled by his heart and the emotions he wore on his sleeve, displaying them proudly as long as the woman he loved was around.

  I’d hoped to slip away quietly before the three women started asking questions. Unfortunately, Kendall was far less shy than Olive.

  A seductive swing to her gait was filled with invitation as she approached the table. It wasn’t my intention to make my presence known in Winter Ridge so quickly when I admitted I was a federal agent, but lying about my identity would only draw attention to Tristan when the day came that I questioned additional witnesses.

  Kendall’s reaction surprised me, I’ll admit, but it was in line with the reactions of Olive and the other woman. Apparently, the shock of Teagan’s murder hadn’t yet left the memories of the residents.

  All in all it wasn’t a wrench in my plans. I decided to devise a way to protect Tristan’s involvement further.

  When the opportunity arose, I left the table to follow Olive into the back of the diner to tell a white lie that would make her believe my presence here wasn’t simply to speak with Simon’s brother. I knew, eventually, she would tell her friends and the rumor mill would carry with it my interest in Olive rather than my interest in Tristan.

  The younger generation was helpful that way, loose lips flapping to spread information on the winds almost as fast as the World Wide Web.

  Not that they were much younger than me, only a ten to twelve year difference, but it was enough of a stretch to make the lives they’d lived seem like an entirely different era than the one that had raised me.

  The back of the diner was much larger than the front, and I pondered at the importance placed on the space intended for staff rather than customers. Perhaps it was a marketing trick to make it appear that the diner was always packed, a gimmick leading customers to believe they should arrive early if they wanted a seat.

  Whatever the reason, it took me a moment to gather my bearings and find the small back office tucked off to the right of the kitchen, a soft yellow light spilling from the doorway.

  Olive had her back to me when I first rounded the corner to lean against the frame of the door, electronic beeps the only sound as she dialed in a string of numbers before shoving a plastic envelope through the small slot of a safe.

  Standing, she turned and froze in place, her blue eyes widening into round orbs that dominated her notable face.

  She wasn’t classically beautiful in any sense. With a tiny nose and full, bow tie lips, the height of her cheekbones were at odds with the strength of her chin and jaw. But that’s what made her a woman who wouldn’t blend easily into a crowd, her features so striking that they would draw the eye of any person that passed her.

  Careful not to be noticed, I glanced down to note her thin waist and wide hips, and a chest that was perfectly suited for her frame. Brown hair spilled over slender shoulders, the ends brushing the bottom of her ribs.

  My eyes met hers again and I didn’t fail to notice the anxious fear behind them. I found it peculiar that a girl as timid as this could be friends with another who was the exact opposite.

  “You’re Olive Reid, correct?”

  Her throat moved to swallow, eyes wincing as if the effort caused her pain. “Yes.”

  Voice meek, she held my stare, surprising me. “I’m sorry to have followed you, but I was hoping to catch you alone.”

  “Why?”

  The question was spoken on a snapped tongue, not harsh, but as if she couldn’t stand to be left wondering why I had any interest in speaking to her. Every second counted with this girl.

  Feigning bashfulness for having been caught, I lied. “I’ll apologize now for having misled you. I-“

  “Aren’t really FBI?” She asked, interrupting me. The idea appeared to wither her shoulders with relief, nervous laughter shaking them. “I thought as much. I’m sure Tristan set you up to say that to freak out Kendall. He enjoys messing with her.”

  “I’m an FBI agent, Miss Reid. That’s not what I was apologizing for.”

  Tension returned to her muscles and I could feel the strength of it in my bones.

  “Then why are you apologizing?” She paused, panic altering her features. “Does this have something to do with my parents?”

  Brows tugging together, I made a mental note to look into the identity of her folks. Why would she immediately assume I was here because of them?

  “No. I’m here as a consultant into the investigation of Teagan McKay’s passing -“

  Her eyes widened more.

  “- and I’m apologizing because it wasn’t Tristan I came to the diner to speak with. I was using him as an excuse to talk to you. I misled you, but with good reason.”

  It was an instantaneous response. The roll of her eyes, the movement of her arms to cross over her chest. A hip that jutted out to the side as she shifted her posture.

  “This is because Soren is staying at my house, isn’t it?”

  There was disgust in her tone, whether directed at me or because she was speaking of Soren, I wasn’t sure.

  “It wasn’t my idea to have him live with us. He’s friends with my brother and I don’t get to tell him who can be in the house. If you’re looking for Soren, I’m sure you’ll find him around. But you don’t have to go through me to do it. I can’t stand him, so it’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

  It occurred to me that I could stand here for a while and simply let her talk. Her quick responses were providing more information than I assumed she’d tell me if this were a formal interview.

  Unfortunately, with her friends close by, I was concerned about the amount of time we had before being interrupted.

  “I’d like to talk to you about Teagan and your brother, Nolan. More specifically about how much he knew regarding her rumored proclivity to sleep around while dating him.”

  Posture shifting again, Olive was now on the defensive. “Can I see some identification, please?”

  Cocking a brow, I didn’t immediately move to comply with her request. “Is there a problem with my asking about your brother?”

  I wanted to see if she’d veer from being defensive to being openly angry. It would tell me I was heading in the right direction.

  “Identification,” she answered. “If you’re going to question me, I have a right to confirm who I’m speaking to.”

  One hand extended, she waited for me to place my credentials in her palm. I reached into my coat and pulled my badge from the inner pocket, flipping open the billfold and holding it up for her to see.

  Seconds passed, a quiet moment as she lowered her hand and decided whether she wanted to step closer to inspect the identification. Unsure why it amused me to see he
r falter in her sudden burst of confidence, I caught her eye, challenging her to take me up on the offer to meet her demand.

  “Put it away. I believe you.”

  I chuckled softly and returned the billfold to my pocket as her eyes narrowed on my face.

  “Yes, my brother knew Teagan was sleeping around, if that’s your only question.”

  Gaze shifting past me to the darkness of the back rooms, Olive appeared to be looking for someone, most likely in the hopes that this conversation would draw to an abrupt end.

  “How did he feel about what she was doing?”

  Rolling her eyes, she answered my question in a clipped tone, no longer interested in being helpful. “How do you think he felt about it?”

  “Angry?” I assumed aloud.

  “Hardly,” she answered. “My brother was sleeping with other people, too. That’s how everybody in Winter Ridge works. No one is really loyal to anyone else. They have no reason to be. It would put too much of a damper on the fun they were having.”

  She was lying.

  Every person in this world has a tell when speaking mistruths. And the manner in which Olive refused to meet my eyes was a clear indication she wasn’t being entirely forthcoming.

  This particular habit wasn’t always proof of deceit, but in the few times we’d spoken before this, she’d had no issue holding my gaze. Now, it was as if she couldn’t find enough to hold her attention to keep from looking at me.

  “So, he would have no reason to cause her harm? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Blue eyes pinned mine in that moment, rage dancing behind the light color.

  “Are you implying my brother killed her? You must be out of your mind. You know nothing about him. How long have you even been on this case?”

  “I’m the one asking the questions.”

  “And I’m the one who’s tired of answering them. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to leave now and you better not try to stop me.”

  She stepped forward to close the space between us, her speed coming to a sudden halt when I didn’t move away from the door.

  Chest heaving with angry breath, she craned her neck to look up at me. Her hands fisted at her sides, the scornful expression and tense posture of her body at odds with the cheerful innocence of her blue gingham dress.

  “Are you going to move, or do I need to scream for help?”

  Stepping aside to give her just enough room to squeeze past, I grabbed her arm when she tried to walk away, her body spinning toward me as she tugged it from my loose grip.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “I’ve upset you,” I commented, realizing fully that Olive wasn’t the terrified mouse I’d first observed her to be. “It wasn’t my intent. I’m simply trying to put this case to rest. And you happen to know a lot of the players.”

  “I know a lot less than you, most likely. If you’re hoping I’ll fill you in on all the lurid details that will point you to Teagan’s killer, then I hate to break it to you, but I’m the person most out of the loop. I’m not invited to their parties and I’m not part of the popular crowd. If you want to know something, talk to Soren, Quinton or Grady. Just be sure to leave my brother and me out of it. We’ve been through enough, and the last thing he needs is some asshole cop accusing him of lifting a finger to harm the girl he cared about.”

  She paused, presumably to regain control of herself.

  “Goodnight, Mr. Vaughan. I hope you find the killer, but I can promise that you are looking in the wrong direction.”

  With that, she stormed off, leaving me to re-examine her words.

  I found it interesting that in one breath Olive told me Nolan couldn’t care less about Teagan McKay, while in the next she practically threatened me for suspecting him of having caused harm to the girl he loved.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Olive

  “Yo, bitch. What was that all about? Did you make out with the hotty fed or what?”

  “Let’s just go.”

  Marching past Shea and Kendall, I didn’t slow down as I slammed my hand against the diner door, throwing it open so I could gulp in the cool night air that was damp with the threat of rain.

  I never minded the rain in Washington, never felt down for the lack of sun, but at this moment I was almost grateful for it, the cool mist that helped relieve the heat of anger burning beneath my skin.

  My dress stuck to my hips and my hair was heavy with moisture, but it was a welcome sensation if only for the distraction it provided me in that moment.

  Kendall and Shea were fast on my heels, following me into the parking lot with questions written into their expressions.

  “Fuck,” I called out, realizing only when I’d reached my car that I’d forgotten to grab my purse and jacket. “I left my stuff in the diner.”

  Kendall’s dark brown eyes locked on mine. “Whoa, was there a fire in there or something? What did tall, dark and hotter than hell say to you?”

  “Stop calling him that.”

  Not meaning to shout, I bit the inside of my cheek, the pain useful in focusing me and giving me a second to pull my thoughts back together.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. But that...man...was an asshole. Let’s forget about him. We have a party to go to, right?”

  I wasn’t sure what sucked worse: knowing the police were focusing on my brother or pretending to be excited to attend Soren’s welcome home party in an effort to get the hell away from the diner.

  Mischief glimmered in Shea’s green eyes. “It’s about time you come around. I was beginning to worry you would never learn to socialize. I’ll go grab your stuff.”

  Thankful I wouldn’t have to go near Jonah again, I wrapped my arms around myself and leaned my head on Kendall’s shoulder. She was a svelte five foot ten to my five foot six, and the difference in our height made it easy for me to fall against her without toppling her over.

  “Why are you so upset?”

  Shaking my head, I sighed. “You were right. He’s here investigating what happened to Teagan.”

  Her body stilled, a response that was typical for everybody in Winter Ridge. “It sucks that he’ll be bringing all that back up, huh?”

  A bark of strained laughter burst from my throat.

  “Yeah, and isn’t it convenient that it just happens to be at the same time Soren returns home?”

  She was silent for a few seconds before asking, “Do you think he did it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  My answer hung between us like a heavy weight, the painfully slow minutes ticking by again until Shea finally returned with my things.

  Jumping in separate cars we drove to my house and were leaving again after the thirty minutes it took me to get ready.

  I hadn’t gone all out, choosing to wear low-rise jeans with a dark green henley rather than the short dresses Shea and Kendall wore. It was a party in the woods, after all. One I wasn’t interested in attending.

  Kendall drove us in her car, the twenty minute commute spent with music blaring while Kendall and Shea screamed over it to talk to each other in the front seat while I sat quietly stewing in the back.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about what Jonah had asked me, panic blossoming in my chest every time I thought about how it would affect Nolan to be accused of hurting Teagan.

  Lying to a federal agent was stupid on my part, but I wasn’t under oath or anything, and I wasn’t being formally interviewed. Plus, I knew Nolan had nothing to do with what happened to Teagan, so I didn’t think the truth of how she broke his heart would be useful to the investigation.

  Yes, Nolan knew that Teagan was sleeping around, in that I was honest, but when I’d claimed it didn’t hurt him, I was lying. He never left her, all while knowing what she was doing on the nights she didn’t come over. What’s worse is he stayed friends with the people she was cheating on him with. And when push came to shove, the sad truth was that Nolan was too wrapped up in Soren and the rest of the group to stick up for himsel
f and leave her.

  But hurting her? That wasn’t Nolan’s style. He simply got even by sleeping around as much as she did.

  Pulling up to the turn off onto a slim dirt road leading to The Pointe, Kendall failed to slow down enough to keep the back end of her car from sliding. Dirt kicked up against the doors while Shea screamed and grabbed on to whatever she could to keep from being tossed.

  They both laughed so loud, it drowned out the music, and I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood.

  I hated the entrance to our not-so-secret party place in Winter Ridge. Dark and uneven, it jostled the car as we hit holes in the ground and bounced over thick roots crossing the thin, makeshift road.

  The Pointe was nothing more than a clearing in a thick wooded area on the bank of Grey Lake.

  Everybody in town knew what the kids were doing out here, but never did anything about it. There were a few weeks after Teagan’s body was found that the police showed up to patrol and break up parties, but it didn’t take long for them to give up and ignore us.

  We rounded a curve and the parking area came into view, cars packed together so close that I wondered how anybody managed to open their doors.

  Kendall somehow found a place to squeeze in and we carefully climbed out of the barely three inch clearance we had between our car and the next.

  By the time everybody was leaving and had drugs and alcohol in their systems, there would be dings in everybody’s doors, nobody really caring since mommy and daddy would pay to have them repaired.

  “Fuck, it’s cold!” Kendall and Shea clung to each other due to their lack of appropriate clothes and I shook my head.

  “I warned you two to put on clothes. The temperature will only continue to drop.”

  It was a little after midnight as we started down the dark footpath leading to the party, the heavy beat of music filtering through silent trees, a steady thump leading us toward the clearing like war drums played for the last march of unfortunate sacrifices.