Graveyard Games

by Sheri Leigh

  Dusty leaned on the Mustang's door, looking around. Being a Saturday, the path was already full of life. She had weaseled an extra day off work to come, on Shane's request. The path was used by people from Shadow Hills and West Lake, too, so on a weekend, it rarely went unused.

  Shane sat on the hood of Billy's car, talking and laughing with both Chris and Billy. He motioned for her to come over and she nodded, but didn’t move. Another car pulled up beside Shane's and she peered inside. It was a small car, piled with people. At least six in the back and four in the front.

  "Hey!" The guy that climbed out the driver's side door could have been Shane’s older, heavier twin and Dusty recognized him immediately although they’d never officially met.

  "Hey, Buddy!" Evan called from where he sat on the Chris’ hood, drinking a beer. "Shane! Buddy's here!"

  "Hey." Shane hopped off the hood and walked toward him, pausing to put an arm around Dusty.

  "I want you to meet somebody," he told her. She followed him, cautious.

  "Told you I'd make it." Buddy clapped Shane on the back. "I brought the gang and everything. Hope you don't mind."

  "Finally, a real party," Evan said from behind them.

  "Buddy, this is Dusty Chandler," Shane said. "Dusty, this is my brother, Buddy."

  Such a formal introduction from Shane, and meeting Buddy, left her taken aback.

  "Hey there." Buddy nodded toward her. He was tall, taller than Shane, with the same blonde-blue-eyed look. He wore a denim jacket and jeans, and he looked normal, not like the hardened criminal she’d expected. His hair was cut at a respectable length and he was clean-shaven. "You look familiar."

  "I'm Nick Chandler's sister," Dusty said, glancing at Shane.

  "Oh. Hey, yeah, I knew him. I'm real sorry," Buddy said.

  Dusty nodded, feeling that familiar heat in her chest. “Thanks.”

  "So, you two an item now, or what?" Buddy eyed the two of them standing together. Dusty glanced up at Shane and he never took his eyes from her face.

  They’d never discussed it and she didn’t want to. Until then, she’d gotten away with not mentioning it at all.

  When Shane didn’t reply, Dusty shrugged and looked at Buddy. "Yeah," she replied. "Something like that."

  "Well, that's cool." Buddy grinned and nodded.

  "Let's party!" Chris popped the top on a beer he’d shaken up. It sprayed all over his wife, Teri, who threw a can at his head and missed. It broke everybody up.

  * * * *

  The stars looked like studded diamonds on a backdrop of black velvet. Dusty snuggled closer to Shane and he put his arm around her. A sliver of the moon sliced through the sky. The breeze was chilly, but the fire was warm.

  "You're going to catch cold if you don't put your jacket back on," Dusty said. Shane was using his jacket as a pillow.

  "Nuh-uh." He shook his head, eyes turned upwards toward the sky. "I've got you to keep me warm."

  Dusty laid her head back down on his chest, her eyes half-closed, comfortable with the rise and fall of Shane's chest. The party was still going, but it was more subdued. Everyone had consumed a ton of beer, herself included. She felt sleepy and relaxed.

  Beverly and Billy sat by the fire, talking quietly, Beverly toying with the loose ends of thread hanging from the holes in the knees of his jeans. Chris and his wife were in the front seat of his car. Jake, Evan, Meg, Suzanne and Buddy were sitting on the Mustang's hood. Dusty ignored the dirty looks Beverly threw her way.

  "Is Suzanne going out with Evan?" Dusty inquired quietly.

  "I’m not sure what’s going on there," Shane admitted, the rumble of his voice against her ear. "I think she took Nick’s death kind of hard and he’s trying to pick up the pieces? I hear she isn’t coping real well…"

  "Are any of us?" Dusty asked sleepily, closing her eyes. "Isn't that what these parties are for? So we can all forget about Nick?"

  "Not for me," Shane said finally, and she felt his hand on her hair, his touch soft and soothing. "For me, it's kind of a way to remember him. He made all of this more fun."

  "I wouldn't know." Dusty opened her eyes. "I was never invited."

  "Yeah, you were." Shane rolled carefully over on his side, moving his leather jacket under her head, looking at her in the light of the fire. "You were invited, you were just too much of a princess to come."

  "Not true!" She scoffed. "I was only invited in backhand ways, and only by you. Nick never once asked me to come along."

  "He didn't want you along," Shane told her honestly. She stared at him.

  He explained. "Nick was always yelling at me about asking you. Don’t you get it? I was the one who asked because I was the one who cared about you being left out. Nick didn't want you along because Nick didn't want us to get involved. Like this, or even as friends."

  "That's not true." Dusty laughed a little nervously. "That can't be true."

  "It is," he said. "He used to tell me to keep my hands off his little sister, and I used to tell him you’d see me in hell before you let me near you. It was kidding, but it was serious, too. Nick wanted to be my friend, but Nick wanted you to stay his sweet, innocent little sister."

  "I'm not—I wasn't—his little sister," Dusty told him. "We were twins. Okay, he was the older twin—by about two minutes."

  "He thought of you as little. It was like..." Shane paused, careful and searching. "It was like he grew up, but you were supposed to stay young and innocent forever."

  Her head felt funny, light, and her mind refused to focus. "He didn't say that." Shane shrugged and Dusty looked at him. "He really said that?"

  He nodded.

  "I always thought it was you," Dusty said with a little laugh. "I always thought..."

  "I know." He rubbed his thumb along her jaw. "But that doesn't matter now, because you're here."

  Dusty didn’t answer him. She realized the conclusions he’d drawn about their "relationship," and she admitted they were the things she wanted him to feel about her. It was all going according to plan, but somehow it didn’t feel right.

  "Come here." Shane pulled her into his arms and sat. Dusty snuggled up, but Shane stood, pulling her with him. She stumbled slightly, feeling dizzy. Shane laughed, catching onto her waist.

  "You're drunk," he said.

  "I'm not." She shook her head but stopped because the world had started spinning. “So are you going to tell me where you were last week?”

  He had been gone for three days with no word, and she didn’t want to admit to him or to herself how strange it felt not to have him around.

  Shane’s mouth moved near her ear. “I told you. I was hunting.”

  “You’re up to something,” she said, lifting her face so she could see his eyes. “I know you.”

  “So are you.” His smile spread slowly and he hid it in her hair. “But I don’t ask and you don’t tell.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked innocently, resting her head below his chin.

  “There’s a big stretch of land up near Ottawa Falls. You know it?”

  She nodded, her eyes closed as they swayed together. “Isn’t that Native land?”

  “I give…tours… up there.” He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m a tour guide. Let’s call it that.”

  She snorted, shaking her head. “Hunting on Native land is illegal.”

  “I know,” he acknowledged, pressing himself more fully against her, his hands moving to her lower back, pulling her in to him. “But considering your current employment status, I doubt you’re going to run to Buck Thompson about it.”

  “I assume they pay you?” she asked, ignoring his comment.

  “A thousand a trip.”

  She gave a low whistle, looking up at him. “Why you?”

  “Because I’m good at doing things without getting caught.” He grinned.

  “That I believe,” she said with a short laugh. “But why would they want to hunt on Native land?”

  “More game,” he reminded her, s
hifting his weight as they moved, his thigh pressing between hers, making her gasp. “But I think it’s more the thrill of it.”

  “Thrill of the forbidden?” She murmured, her face close to his, their breath mingling.

  “Yeah,” he breathed, groaning when she wiggled closer against him. “I had a guy couple months ago who didn’t even take a rifle. Said he was looking for artifacts.”

  Her fingers moved through his hair as they rocked. “You mean, like arrowheads?”

  “I guess.” He shrugged, lowering his mouth to her neck, nuzzling her hair out of the way.

  “He ever find anything?” she asked, moaning softly as his tongue made slow circles below her ear.

  “I didn’t ask. He didn’t tell.”

  Shane’s mouth on her neck, his breath in her ear, made her dizzy with wanting and she tried to fight it, but she was losing.

  “I was set up,” she told him, changing the subject. “They thought I was doing something I…I wasn’t.”

  He stopped, pulling back to look at her, his eyes searching her face. “You really didn’t do it?”

  She smiled sadly. “Can you see me as a high-priced call girl? Having sex for cash? Two thousand a night?”

  He snorted laughter, shaking his head. “Hell, I can’t even get past second base with you…” Then his tone turned serious, his eyes concerned. “Jesus, Dusty…wasn’t there any way to prove you didn’t do it?”

  She ran a hand through his hair, shaking her head. “You of all people should know how hard it is to prove a negative.”

  “You’ve got a point there,” he agreed, frowning.

  They grew quiet again as Bob Seger sang about night moves from the Mustang's speakers and Dusty swayed in Shane's arms, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

  "Hey, Suzanne, turn it up!" Dusty called and Suzanne nodded, getting up.

  "Looks like you're having a good time," Suzanne called.

  Dusty smiled at her, watching her with Evan. She knew how much Suzanne had cared about Nick but she fervently hoped Evan would win her over. He was sweet and gentle and his insistence was good for her.

  "Hey." Shane tilted her chin up. "Are you happy?"

  "Right now?" Dusty linked her arms lightly around his neck. He nodded, eyes serious. "Right now, right this second, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time." She realized it went beyond the words—she was telling the truth, not just putting on the act. It scared her.

  "You make me happy," Shane told her, swallowing. "I don't let people get close. Nick got closest, I guess."

  It sobered her up, thinking about Nick, remembering what she was doing, and what she was planning to do. But hating Shane while he was holding her, smiling at her, touching her, was nearly impossible. Her feelings had changed somehow—they had changed drastically while she was shoving them into corners and not thinking about them.

  "Maybe that's why it's me then." Dusty searched his eyes. "Because of Nick."

  "It's because you're you," Shane insisted.

  Dusty's smile was soft and slow.

  She closed the gap between them, easily.

  Chapter Ten

  "Hey, Sarge." Dusty scratched Will Cougar's German Shepherd on the head. Sarge had been around a long time and he was getting old. He thumped his tail on the wooden floorboards and licked her hand. Dusty went past him, into the store.

  "You trying to kill your dog, Cougar?" Dusty asked. Will was leaning over the counter with the Shadow Hills Journal open in front of him. "It's freezing out there."

  "Old Sarge can handle the cold." Will looked up at her, smiling. "He's looking out for the place. What brings you by?"

  "Cough drops." Dusty headed toward the medicine aisle. "Dad caught a cold. He always does when the weather hints at snow."

  "It's expecting to storm," Will said as she came back with a bag of Ricola.

  "Did you read that in the paper?" Dusty tossed the cough drops on the counter and Will picked it up.

  "Nope," he said, ringing them up. "I read it in my joints. We're gonna get snow before the week is out."

  "You've got to be getting old if you can feel the weather in your joints," Dusty said in mock-awe. Cougar rolled his eyes.

  "Yeah, yeah, they're getting ready for my funeral right now, in fact," Will snorted. "Any day now. You never know when I'm going to kick the old proverbial bucket."

  Will bagged the cough drops, his eyes softening as he handed them to her. "So, how are you doing?"

  Dusty shrugged. "I still miss him, but I'm getting out a lot more."

  "With the wrong people if you ask me." Will shook his head. "It's a funny thing about you and Shane. Up until Nick died you hated his guts."

  "I didn't hate him," Dusty said, feeling uncomfortable.

  "Hated him," Will repeated with a nod. "It's a strange thing. Has people talking."

  "Good," Dusty muttered.

  "Is that the goal?" Will raised an eyebrow. "To get people talking about you?"

  "Why does there have to be a goal?"

  Will shrugged. "It's just funny, that's all. Shane doesn't seem like your type."

  "I don't think Shane is anybody's type," Dusty said. "Especially in this town."

  When Dusty stepped back out onto Cougar's front step, Sarge whined to be petted. Dusty stopped to give his ears some attention for a minute, staring out at the skyline. Will was right. There was going to be a storm by the end of the week. Maybe sooner.

  * * * *

  "Julia?" Dusty stepped cautiously into the kitchen. She found her stepmother sitting at the table, head cradled in her arms, crying softly. "Julia, what happened?"

  Dusty put her car keys on the table. Julia didn’t raise her head. It had to be something major. Julia didn’t cry unless it was. All she could think of was her father in the garage with a gun and razor blades in front of him, and the image wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard she tried to get rid of it. Dusty felt queasy.

  "Julia, are you okay?"

  Julia looked up, wiping her eyes.

  "Is Dad okay?" Dusty croaked.

  "He's fine." Julia shook her head, and the relief that flooded Dusty’s chest made tears prick her eyes. "I didn't hear you come in. It's just the delayed reaction, I guess. I was reading the paper there." Julia pointed to an article. "And it just hit me."

  Dusty picked the paper up, skimming the article. It was about the capture of the Clinton Grove Cat.

  "Oh," Dusty said softly.

  "It's the cat," Julia said. She looked haggard. "It's that fucking cat." Dusty stared at her agape. Julia drew a shaky breath, wiping away the last traces of tears. "How can you send a cat to prison?"

  "Can't even put him on trial," Dusty said, smiling weakly.

  “God punishes the wicked,” Julia murmured. “But what about things like this? Why do bad things happen to good people?”

  “I don’t know,” Dusty admitted, swallowing past a lump in her throat. “I wish I did.”

  Julia put her head back down. When Dusty left for work that night she was still sitting there, staring out of the kitchen window.

  * * * *

  "Do you want me to stay with you?" Shane asked when people started moving away from the casket. Dusty shook her head.

  She’d thought about it herself often enough. The temptation to sink into oblivion, to think about nothing ever again, that seemed comforting. The only thing that kept her sane, alive, was the hate. It burned, forcing its way to the surface like a living thing, demanding to be noticed, to be tended and fed. She wished she had an outlet for it, somewhere for it to go…

  ”The whole world gets turned upside down when stuff like this happens and nobody seems to have any explanations.”

  Cougar's words came back to her while she stood in the cemetery looking at yet another coffin, Shane's arm brushing hers.

  She didn’t have what I do, Dusty thought, looking at Suzanne's casket. She didn’t have anyone to tell her what happened to Nick.

  Dusty had thought a lot about
it—just taking too many pills, a razor blade in the bathtub, her brother's gun...but she’d never actually done anything. She couldn't. She had a burning need to know what really happened.

  Suzanne, Nick, Tommy—everyone was gone. Did she believe it was a bobcat? She had to, didn't she? It had been confirmed—it had been in all the papers. Cat gone, tourists please come back. Well, not in so many words. The injustice of it filled her, thinking about Suzanne on the night of the party, tall, blonde, smiling, a little drunk.

  And then she had gone home and killed herself.

  Dusty closed her eyes, the blood thickening in her head, and she leaned against Shane. He put his arm around her, holding her tightly.

  She looked at him, knowing she’d waited too long and hated herself for it. It would be hard now, even harder, but she’d lost so much more and her conviction was greater.

  "Are you sure?" Shane asked. "You could come to my house. My dad won't be there."

  "I'll meet you there." She turned and walked toward the Jeep.

  She wasn’t going to go to Suzanne's. She couldn’t bear to. And she had things to take care of before going to Shane's. Dusty looked back at him when she was through the gates. He stood under the overcast sky, hands in his pockets, looking across the cemetery. Something twinged inside her. He looked worse than he had at Nick's funeral. Worse than he had in a long time. She shoved the sympathy quickly away—SNIP—and got into her car.

  She had to find out the truth. If she didn’t do anything, she was going to end up like Suzanne—so lost in why she’d drown. Dusty was going to find out who and go from there.

  * * * *

  It had stayed closed for two months. Dusty put her hand on the doorknob, trying to remember exactly how it looked. It had been too long. Her palms were sweating, and her heart thudded heavily in her chest. The poster of Murphy's Law...Dusty felt like she was going to be sick. Her dream and his sightless eyes, the blood, the—SNIP

  She turned the doorknob and shoved the door quickly open. It was dark and she felt for the light switch. It was there on the wall, like it always had been, and no hand came out to cover hers in the darkness as she flicked it on.