A Million Times Goodnight

by Kristina McBride

  “I know you don’t want to do this. But you’re doing it anyway. For me. It means a lot, Mia.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She gave me a little wink. “What’s next, my little sleuth?”

  “A quick location scout.”

  A minute later, we were kneeling on the back patio of the Badens’ mini-mansion, staring through the windows into a large room with a cathedral ceiling. In the center of the room, flanked by two oversize chairs, was a black leather couch. Lights flickered, washing the scene in bright blues and greens as someone on the television painted primer on a set of lawn furniture.

  In the center of it all sat a woman wrapped in a yellow maxi dress, her rich chestnut hair piled on top of her head, one perfectly manicured hand gripping the stem of an empty, half-tipped wine glass. Her thin frame had sunk into the cushions. In spite of the way her head lolled to one side, and how her eyes drooped closed, she was beautiful.

  “We can’t go inside,” Mia said. “Mrs. Baden’s right there, watching TV.”

  “We don’t have to worry about her. She’s medicated by now.”

  “Medicated, how?” Mia asked.

  “She has a little thing for pills. It started after her car accident.”

  “She was on her way to pick up Ben from soccer practice, right? We were in eighth grade. The accident shattered something.”

  “Her pelvis. She had a few surgeries and recovered okay, but she never kicked the meds. She’s passed out by nine o’clock every night.”

  “How come you never told me?”

  I shrugged. “It’s hard on Ben. He doesn’t like to talk about it. And I’m not exactly sure that she gets all of her stuff the legal way….”

  “So what? She, like, cruises downtown in her Bentley and does a drive-by pickup?”

  “There’s this guy that stops by every few weeks. One of Ben’s father’s friends from college or something. I thought it was an affair at first, but they always hang out in the dining room, drinking wine, laughing, catching up. But only for a half hour. Then he leaves, and she’s pretty much zoned out for the rest of the day.”

  “Cozy family,” Mia whispered. “What about Mr. Baden?”

  “He’s away on some business trip this weekend.”

  “How are we getting in?” Mia asked. “This place has to have a security system.”

  “State of the art but never used. They think they’re untouchable.”

  I crawled away from the window and stood when I reached the deck, rushing around it and down the slope of the backyard, my feet whispering in the grass. Mia was right behind me, her breath coming in waves, as we stepped to the sliding glass door that led to the finished walk-out basement. Ben’s lair—practically his own private apartment—complete with a separate entrance, which, conveniently, was almost always unlocked.

  I grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. It gave with only a slight squeak. And then we were inside. A trilogy of blue-black lava lamps bubbled atop a dresser in the back corner, casting an eerie, flowing glow on all of the walls.

  “Holy shit, look at that TV.” Mia’s eyes were locked on an enormous flat-screen mounted across from Ben’s bed.

  “Don’t act so surprised. You’ve seen his car. Ben gets what he wants, when he wants it. Without fail.”

  “Except tonight,” Mia said with a chuckle.

  “You’ve got that right.”

  Racing to Ben’s desk, I reached for the charging station, yanking the cord for his phone out of the wall and winding it around my knuckles.

  “We need a way to carry this stuff out. He’s got a few backpacks up on a high shelf in his closet. Grab one, would you?”

  Mia’s eyes went wide. “I’m here for you, Hadley, but I don’t exactly want to take part in this. I’m thinking police and forensic evidence and jail time and—”

  “Mia, stop freaking out and think for a second. Think of the pictures. If we go down, he’s going down, too. But we’re not going to be able to prove anything if we don’t have evidence. All of it.”

  “Oh my God, Hadley, you’re killing me.” Mia rolled her eyes, but she started moving, flipping the light on and disappearing into the walk-in closet.

  I tried to focus. I didn’t have long, and I needed to make sure I grabbed everything. Problem was, I wasn’t sure what that might include. Tucking the phone charger into the pocket of my jacket, I turned around.

  “Think,” I said. “Think, think, think. What else do you need?”

  My eyes tripped across the bed, halted by the red-striped comforter. A flash of myself lying there, naked, popped into my head. I’d trusted Ben. Loved him, even. And he had taken all of that and betrayed me.

  Suddenly, I questioned every decision I’d made since the start of the night, my mind reeling with thoughts of Josh.

  I stumbled over to the bed and sat on the edge, lowering my face into the cup of my hands, squeezing my eyes closed. I felt as if Josh was there, right there with me. It was the strangest sensation. I smelled him, too—earth and woods and night—a perfect combination. I sank into the feeling, not caring if it had been brought on by panic or memory, just wanting to lose myself in him.

  But then a loud crash echoed from the closet, snapping me to my feet.

  “Son of a bitch,” Mia whisper-shouted.

  “What happened?” I rushed toward the closet, reaching out for the door frame to steady myself because I was dizzy, still feeling the heat of Josh, even though it didn’t make any sense.

  “I found the backpacks,” Mia said, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. Three backpacks were piled around her feet. One of them was open, its front flap gaping like a wound. Inside was a wooden box, the lid carved with an intricate design.

  “What’s that?” My fingers gripped the door frame tighter. Something about that box felt familiar but wrong, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. I closed my eyes, feeling there should be trees swaying above me. Like I was standing at the edge of a deep, dark hole. Like the box wasn’t a box at all but something cold and shiny and cruel.

  Mia leaned down and scooped up the backpacks, stuffing two away on the shelf, clutching the other to her chest as she peered in at the box. “Looks like a little jewelry box, don’t you think?”

  I nodded, that light-headed feeling sweeping over me again.

  Mia bit her lower lip. “Kind of strange. Ben probably doesn’t have a whole lot of jewelry.”

  I took a deep breath, letting the tension slide away as logic set in. It was just a backpack. Just a wooden box.

  “We need to stay focused. We’re here for a reason, Mia.”

  I stepped away from the closet door—and the strange sense that something was off balance—with Mia close on my heels. I pushed a thumb into the front pocket of my skinny jeans, my skin grazing the silver band I’d tucked away earlier, making me think of that picture. Oh, God, that picture. I hated that picture.

  “Hadley?” Mia reached out for my arm as she slung the now-closed backpack across her shoulder. “Are you okay? You look really pale and—”

  She stopped mid-sentence. I didn’t have a chance to tell her that I was not okay, that I might never be okay again after that picture ruined my life. I certainly didn’t have the chance to grab Ben’s computer—the reason we’d come here in the first place.

  The voices just outside the sliding glass door stopped everything.

  “We will find them,” a very scratchy voice said. The same voice from the tower. “Both of them.”

  “Can’t you just give it a rest?”

  “No. We can’t give it a rest.” Ben. That voice was definitely Ben. But who had spoken just before him?

  There was a pause. A shuffling of feet.

  “Sounds like you’re not up for this,” the scratchy voice said. “You should probably go home.”

  I looked at Mia, my eyes wide. She mouthed something that looked a lot like We are fucked.

  I shook my head, pointing toward the dark opening that led to Ben’s bathroom. Scurr
ying toward it, I heard the swish of the backpack against Mia’s shirt as she followed.

  The sliding glass door opened as we made it to the bathroom tiles, cool and blue like the ocean. I swung around, nearly knocking heads with Mia, and whispered, “Shower,” just as the voices started again, louder this time.

  “I’m not going home,” the new voice said. It was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. The whoosh of blood rushing through my head threatened to block everything out.

  “Well, if you’re not with us,” the scratchy voice said, “you’re against us.”

  “Right,” the familiar one said. “You’ve made your point.”

  I crept to the shower and Mia followed me inside, pulling the beveled glass door closed behind her. I tugged her to the far wall, as deep into the shadows as possible.

  Standing there, trying to steady my breathing, I hoped my heart wasn’t beating so loudly that Ben would hear it and come running. I grabbed Mia’s hand and gave it a squeeze. She squeezed back.

  I wanted to tell her I was sorry. That I’d been wrong about every single choice I had made on this crazy night.

  I wanted to say a million things in that moment.

  But all I could do was stand there.

  Silent.

  Waiting.

  20

  KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE – 4:57 AM TRIP ODOMETER – 297 MILES

  “I NEED to ask you a question.” My voice was shaky, almost overtaken by the hum of the tires treading on the highway.

  Since leaving the rest area nearly three hours ago, I’d slipped in and out of sleep, my unconscious mind replaying that rest-stop kiss over and over again—the feel of Josh’s lips pressed against mine, the warmth of his breath on my neck, the heat of his hands touching me.

  And then the vision of the gun would take over.

  Josh glanced at me, his eyebrows raised. “Shoot.”

  The word almost stopped me. But I had to ask. “Why do you have a gun?”

  Josh took in a slow breath. “You went through my backpack?”

  “That’s not an answer, Josh.”

  “The gun isn’t your concern.”

  “How can you say that? It’s in this car right now. With us. I want to know why.”

  “You afraid or something?” There was a teasing note to his voice. It should have freaked me out. Instead, it reminded me of the old Josh.

  “Of you?” I shook my head. Josh wouldn’t hurt me. No matter what happened between us, I knew he would never hurt me. Physically, at least. “No.”

  “Good. That should be the end of the discussion.”

  “After you tell me one thing. What are you afraid of?”

  Josh laughed, but the sound was not a happy one.

  “Tyler, maybe? His friends? Have they been making threats or—”

  My questions were cut off by the sharp sound of a ringing phone—a phone that couldn’t have been mine because I’d powered it down after my last call with Ben.

  “Forget what you saw, Hadley. Just drop it.”

  The discussion was over. I wanted to keep pushing but knew it wasn’t the time. Instead, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, the ringing of the phone crashing into me as flickering streetlights raced across my eyelids.

  “Why are you calling me?” Josh’s tense greeting put me on alert.

  “Yeah, that’s right. I dealt with that already, so you can—” Josh’s eyes darted to me. Through a muffled garble of rushed words from the other end of the line, I knew one thing. The person Josh was speaking to was male.

  “Shit.” Josh sighed. “Definitely not. I understand. Look … Thanks, okay? You didn’t have to—”

  More from the other end of the line, the staccato sound of words pouring through the phone.

  “Sure. I appreciate it.”

  As Josh pulled the phone from his ear, I saw a glimpse of someone’s picture—the flash of a red shirt and short blond hair. But that was all, nothing more.

  “Who was that?”

  Josh sped up and passed a car in the left lane, then flicked on the blinker, cutting in front of it. He didn’t glance my way or acknowledge my question.

  “I thought it was Ben,” I said. “At first, I mean.”

  “Ben wouldn’t call me. Ever.”

  “He might.” I wondered, with Josh’s past year, who would call him? And why? “He figured out you’re in on this, Josh. Mia took a picture from the back of—”

  “I don’t care what he’s figured out.” Josh yawned. “The guy’s a class A jerk-off.”

  “No argument there. Was it your friend … whoever you sent the picture of the pills to?”

  “Sam?” Josh asked.

  I wondered if Josh’s drug expert was male or female. And then I got scared—the fluttering in my stomach meant that I cared.

  “So, did Sam tell you what they are?”

  “That wasn’t Sam.”

  “You won’t tell me about the gun. You won’t tell me who just called. Why won’t you tell me anything?”

  Josh was silent, his teeth raking across his lower lip.

  “Jesus, Josh. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

  “You’re pumping me for information. Back at the rest stop. Now.”

  “Can you blame me?” I asked. “I still have no idea what happened last year. And then there’s the gun in your backpack. I’m worried that—”

  “Worried?” Josh shook his head. “You’re not worried. You don’t give a shit about anything that has to do with me unless it affects you.”

  “Josh, I—How can you think that?”

  “Oh, give it up. You’re just like everybody else. Stop acting like you care.”

  “I’m not like everybody else. And I’m not pumping you for information. I have questions, sure. Not just about the accident, but about everything that’s happened since. I want to know what your life is like now. The reason I don’t ask is because it’s …”

  “It’s what?”

  “I don’t know. Awkward?”

  “Awkward because after what I did, I shouldn’t have a life, right? Because I’m not allowed to have friends?”

  “No, Josh. Because I’m afraid of offending you. Or bringing up something that might really suck for you to think about. Or having you take my head off, like you’re doing right now. So Sam should be a safe topic, right? I don’t know anyone named Sam—I’m guessing he’s a new friend. How did you meet him?” I paused, waiting to see if Josh would correct me. Was he a she? Was the him actually a her? Like, a girlfriend kind of her?

  Josh sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just hard sometimes.”

  “Yeah. Trust me. I get that.”

  “I met Sam at the hospital.”

  “Oh.” I wavered between feeling guilty for bringing up yet another reminder of Penny and ticked that I still had no idea if Sam was male or female.

  “Your attempt at avoiding shitty topics, it’s a novel idea.” Josh’s voice sounded as tired as he looked. “But it’s not very realistic these days.”

  “What was it like? At the hospital?”

  “Which time? After the accident, it’s a long, drug-induced blur. Doctors, nurses, physical and occupational therapists, IV drips, and—”

  “What do you mean which time? You were there for weeks.”

  “Forty-seven days, if you count rehab after the hospital. But I had to go back.” Josh paused, taking in a deep breath. “I went back a few weeks before winter break.”

  “You were in the hospital then?” I thought back to the empty desk in English class, the rumors floating through the halls about Josh being in juvie, pictured myself at that New Year’s Eve party leaning against the foosball table, wondering where Josh was and lying to myself about how I didn’t care.

  “It sure as hell wasn’t juvie. I bet there were lots of rumors after they sent me away, but I’m guessing none of them were true.”

  “Someone sent you away?”

  “My parents.” Josh paused. “The
re’s a reason I didn’t want to answer your questions, okay? It’s embarrassing. Mortifying.”

  “Josh, you don’t have to be embarrassed about anything with me. I know you. Have known you for—”

  “You don’t anymore, though. You don’t know anything.”

  “Then tell me. Please.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Josh tapped his thumb on the wheel, stopped, then started tapping again. “They sent me to a psych ward. They were worried I was going to kill myself. Or go crazy. Whatever. I wouldn’t have done the first part. But I’m not so sure I haven’t avoided the second.”

  “Oh, God, Josh, I didn’t—”

  “And that’s where I met Sam. We bonded over hours of group therapy, warm fuzzy moments with our fucked-up peers, an endless supply of pills clinking together in little paper cups, and—”

  “Josh.” I looked at him then. Really looked at him. And in the flash of lights from a car passing on the other side of the freeway, I saw him fade from his current tortured self into the guy I’d once known. The guy I’d fallen so hard for I had to erase him completely from my mind and heart. “I tried to be there for you. I wanted to help. But every time I came close, you pushed me away. Do you even remember the day I went to see you in the hospital?”

  I reached out, my fingers stretching across the space between us, a million tiny moments from our past boiling to the surface. But, like that day in the hospital, Josh pulled away, jerking his arm from my hand just before I could touch him.

  “I remember,” he said. “I meant what I said then. I wanted you to walk away. To leave me alone. I still want you to leave me alone.”

  “Josh, please.”

  He shook his head. “Next subject.”

  “Look, I need you to understand—”

  “What? That this whole thing is as random as it gets? That you never in a million years would have spoken to me on top of that tower if your asshole boyfriend hadn’t posted that picture of you on Facebook?” Josh laughed. “Trust me, I understand why we’re here. You found me at just the right moment, and you decided to use me.”