by A. E. Watson
So I did it.
Sierra started to strip and I turned and went for Lainey, dragging her in next. I pushed her, blubbering and incoherent, into the shower with Sierra. They already looked like inmates as they shivered and stripped. “Put your clothes in the garbage can.”
Walking back into the living room I jumped seeing Sage was already standing and no longer crying. She was just staring at the wall but then turned sharply, giving me a pained look. “I don't know what happened.”
I didn't either and I almost didn't want to know. I was scared to be alone with her there so I offered her my hand, forcing it to stay still and not shake. She lifted her hand, caked in dried blood, and dropped it in mine.
I pulled her to the bathroom and pushed her inside the shower that had seemed so large a moment ago. “Take everything off, every scrap of clothes and jewels and put them in the can.” I stepped back, seeing the caked blood on my hands.
My eyes lifted to the mirror, realizing the horror of the scene before me. A thousand things ran through my mind, but I had one response. I dragged my cell phone from my pocket and called my dad.
He answered after a few rings. “You all right?”
My lips trembled then and tears flooded my eyes. When I spoke my voice cracked and ended as a whisper, “Come to Sierra’s guesthouse. Hurry. I need you.” I pressed it off, not sure what else to say. Not sure what was true and what was in my head. I had small tidbits that were roaming around and making things up, based on assumptions and the things I had seen.
In reality, one of us or none of us murdered Rachel.
For whatever reason I was more afraid that it wasn't one of my friends.
I stripped my clothes off too, putting them in the basket and stepping into the shower with my friends.
Brown water, consisting of mud, dirt, leaves, grass, and of course the blood from our dead friend, ran from our four naked bodies.
We had never showered together before, but I would remember this for the rest of my life. I would never be free of the image of the four of us, huddled and shivering. The air wasn’t cold and the water was scalding but we were cold. It was a cold that comes from within. The kind that grows, starting at your heart and spreading out until every bit of you is numb.
When I got out and dried off, I was emotionless. I wrapped myself in a towel and walked to the door, standing there waiting for the lights from my father’s Benz to roll up.
I had never needed my daddy in my life the way I did in that moment.
Her blood was still on me.
Her dead eyes were still looking at me.
Her scream was still ringing in my head.
But, ironically, her mean words were gone.
She was a saint in my mind.
I didn't know how or why, but I could no longer think a mean thing about her.
I felt sick for ever wishing bad things for her.
I was a bad person.
I had wished this.
That rotted inside me, making the cold worse, like I was dead with her. Like I too was lying on the ground in the woods, with the sound of the party all around me and the blood from my body underneath me. That blood was the last warm thing she had felt. Or was it the hands of her killer?
I shuddered and blinked, seeing lights. My heart jumped, and for one beat I feared it was the police. But the moment it got close I knew who it was. I opened the front door and stood there, soaking and wrapped in a towel.
All the times I had pretended I hated him and imagined I didn't need him and acted like I couldn't have cared less about him, this was the moment that shoved all those others away.
His car skidded to a halt and his door hung open as he sprinted to me, shaking me. His words were either too slow or too fast or I just didn't have answers. I knew I should speak but I couldn't. What could I say? How did I say it?
“LINDS!” He shook me, snapping me out of it with his biting fingers and loud words. “WHAT HAPPENED, BABY?”
I blinked as tears filled my eyes and words fell from my lips. “Rachel is dead. We have her blood on us. I need help.”
“Was it an accident?”
I shook my head. His eyes widened and I could see his reaction was going to be bad. But he held it back. He swallowed it down and nodded. “Did you kill her?”
I shook my head, blinking tears so thick they blocked the truth and the world from my eyes.
“Did one of the girls?”
I nodded, shaking and stepping into the warmth of my father.
He paused, biting his lip and then became the man I knew he was—deep down I knew he was this man. A man of action and a man who knew what to do in a terrible moment like this one. A man we needed.
He released me, stepping back and pulled his phone from his pocket, pressing someone called Hendricks, a name I didn't know. The man answered, sounding groggy.
“Hendricks, I need you. Now. The Casey residence. Haul ass and prepare to burn.” He hung up before he said anything else. He swallowed again and glanced past me into the guesthouse. “Is she—Rachel here?”
I shook my head. “Her house.” My voice was weak.
“Good.” He breathed relief and still somehow looked worried though he didn't sound it. “That's good. Okay, this is what we are going to do: You and the girls are going to walk to Sierra’s house. Get cleaned again. Someone will come and fetch the towels you are wearing. Before you go, leave every effect you have on you in this guesthouse. Touch nothing else. Not even one earring goes to Sierra’s house. I don't care if your mom gave it to you, do you understand me?”
I nodded, glancing back as the other girls came into view from the bathroom, each in a white towel and dripping wet.
“You girls go to the house now. You swim in the pool for a couple minutes, bring the towels in with you and leave them in there. Get Sierra’s clothes on and take her car, go to our house. Don't answer your phones and don't talk to anyone until we speak to you. Don't cry and don't talk about this; the staff will hear you. Do not speak and do not call anyone!” His tone was grave. We all nodded. “Now, go!”
I jumped and stepped away from him, walking to the big house. As each girl passed by him, he checked her face for earrings. Not one of us had a single thing. Everything was in the can in the bathroom where we left the blood of our friend.
We walked in silence to the backyard where the pool overlooked the ocean. I held on to my towel, like it was a baby blanket, and jumped into the pool, letting the cool water pull me under.
The lights of the pool told me when each of my friends jumped into the water, but I didn't need to look at them to know what their faces looked like. I knew already.
The image of each expression would haunt me until the day I died.
Chapter Seven
Frogs in boiling water
We as a group had never dressed silently. We didn't do anything in silence. We had never been uncomfortable with each other before. We were a discombobulated mess of people who didn't fit, but we were friends. We were family. We were not uncomfortable or awkward. If anything, we were the opposite.
But in that moment, we were every one of those things.
We sat silent in the car on the ride over to my house, all feeling out of place in clothes that didn't fit right or feel right.
I felt like we had once been something and now we were not that thing. I couldn't find the word for it, but I knew we were never going to be whatever it was again.
Lainey reached for me in the dark, slipping her hand into mine as Sierra drove us to my place. Sage sat in the front, not speaking and shallow breathing. But Lainey squeezed me, maybe checking to see if I was okay.
I wasn't but I didn't want to tell her that. I didn't know if I trusted her anymore.
I didn't trust me.
One of them was a killer and I was an accomplice. It wasn't snooping and it wasn't innocent. Someone was dead. Rachel was dead.
When we pulled up to my gate, the guard let us in. I lifted my free hand and w
aved, trying to be that girl. The one who waved at the night guard. The one who was normal.
“When we get inside, let’s go in the hot tub,” I muttered. “I think we need more chemicals.”
None of them spoke.
Sierra parked out front and we got out, silent as mice. I looked at Lainey as she climbed out of the car. Her cheeks were flushed and she appeared to be tired. She was blinking like she was fighting staying awake.”
We were never this way when we arrived after a night of partying.
The staff might know something was wrong.
I nudged Sierra and nodded at the door. “Be normal.”
She smiled wide, pushing her cheeks up into place. “Hot tub sounds great. I’m aching everywhere.”
Lainey made a sound like she was laughing but it was horrible. “Me too.”
Sage couldn't do it.
I suspected it was because she had killed Rachel, and she might never laugh again as a result.
Of the four of us, she was the least likely to kill anyone. She was always all talk when she was mad. Her temper was bad, but I had never seen it go beyond mean words followed by an instant apology.
To me that meant something very dastardly had occurred between the time we had arrived at the party and the very moment Rachel died. My inner Diablo blamed Rachel. I knew what she was capable of.
We stalked through the house silently, slipping past the rooms, one at a time. Somewhere in the dim lighting and heartbreak, we had given up on the fake laughing and carrying on. We opted for sneaky, which to me suited teenaged girls just fine.
Each step became lighter and eventually we were looking over our shoulders and slipping into shadows.
When we finally reached the back door, I took a breath, squeezing the lock slowly and opening the door so it wouldn't creak. It was a noisier door than most in the house.
I tiptoed across the deck, lifting the lid off the giant hot tub. I didn't look back at my friends. I just stepped in, fully clothed in Sierra’s version of pajamas—men’s boxers and a silky tank top.
She didn't even flinch when the silk hit the warm water. I sat in the steam as they too climbed in, each nestling into a corner.
“Lindsey?” A voice filled the foggy air. I jumped, looking around as a shadow appeared across the pool. I bit my lip as Sage started to whimper. “Lindsey, it’s Hailey!” the voice called again as she walked to us.
I had completely forgotten about us hanging out.
I sat in the dark, surrounded by steam and wondered what the hell I should do. “Hey,” I said in a panicked voice that didn’t sound anywhere near as calm as I was trying to make it. I sloshed out of the tub, wrapping my arms around myself the moment the cool evening air hit me. “I’m so sorry. I totally forgot. Can we do it again another time? We just got back from the party and my friend isn’t feeling so hot.” I was rambling so I forced my mouth shut.
She looked like she expected that when she nodded, her eyes darting to the silhouettes of my silent friends in the steam and dim lighting. “It’s cool. I’ll see ya ‘round.” She turned and walked away and I didn't stop her. I didn't explain why I never introduced her or why I never asked her to join us. I let her think I’d ditched her and I was the mean girl who was too cool to hang out with her.
I hated treating her that way, but I didn't want to drag her into this mess. She walked off and I turned back to the hot tub.
We sat in silence, not a single one of us offering an explanation or a confession or a word of remorse. We took turns crying so softly the others in the bubbling hot tub barely heard it.
I couldn't say how long we were in there. I only knew that it was a man’s voice that snapped me out of the haze I was in. I had been stuck, reliving every second of finding them all the way I did. So when he spoke, I jumped and turned fast. I couldn't stop my hands from coming up defensively. I didn't realize I was covering my face with the backs of my hands, recoiling from the manly voice calling my name. “Lindsey!”
The deck was dark, completely covered in steam.
When he walked from the shadows, I sighed when I realized who it was.
“Linds, come inside. Now.” It was my father.
I got up, swaying and nauseated. “I think we’ve been in too long,” I muttered and dragged myself from the tub. I lay on the concrete and stared up at the sky. It was beautiful. More stars than I had seen in ages, unless of course some of them were a result of me being in the hot tub too long.
Lainey came and lay beside me, sighing and then breathing shallow. “You okay, Linds?” she asked softly, the way she did everything.
I shook my head, knowing we needed to go inside and face the music. My father wouldn’t wait long for us before he would come out and drag us inside.
“Me either,” she whispered, her voice cracking again.
Sage started to cry, making whimpering noises as she sloshed to where we were and plunked down too. She turned her face to mine and whispered softly, “I don't know what happened, Linds. I don't remember anything. We got to the party and I saw Vince and Rachel and then that's it. I don't remember anything else.”
“Did someone hand you a drink, Sage?” Lainey asked, her voice a little high pitched. “Did you drink a glass of something someone handed you?”
“I don't know. I don't remember.”
Lainey looked at me, her dark eyes glistening in the dark. It was a knowing look. “Someone tried to give us drinks. I bet they gave Sage a drink.”
My insides sank but my heart lifted. The strangest feeling was coming over me. It was like a battle of good versus evil as I worked out the details.
Were we nearly drugged? It would appear so.
Sage could have been drugged! If she was she didn't murder Rachel.
But why would someone drug Sage?
Could they be separate incidents?
Why drug Sage, me, and Lainey and then murder Rachel?
None of it made sense.
I turned and looked at Sierra as she flopped onto the deck, face down and breathing weirdly. “Did someone try to give you a drink?” I asked.
She nodded. “Some girl. I didn't know her. She was blonde and slim and she had on a dress like mine. She called my name and handed me a red drink. She looked like a blonde Barbie.”
“Did you drink it?” Lainey asked softly.
“I didn't get the chance. Some guy fell and knocked it all over my left arm and leg. My shoe was sticky all night long because of it.”
“Her shoes were sticky,” Lainey whispered.
“Oh my God,” I murmured and continued to work it out in my head.
“So someone tried to drug us and maybe drugged you, Sage. Unless you drank enough to pass out. But why were you with Rachel? We found you that way. I thought you were dead,” Sierra mumbled from the place she was lying. None of us had the energy to be as worked up as we should have been.
“What if the same person who drugged us killed Rachel?” I asked, hating the possibilities that whispered.
Was Sage then made to look like she had killed Rachel?
And if so, that meant Lainey hadn’t killed Rachel either.
What if none of us had and it was being made to look like we did?
That was a whole other ball of wax I wasn’t certain I wanted to explore. That meant someone was trying to frame us. But at least my friends might not have killed her. I hadn’t really believed they could have, even though I saw the evidence. My brain swirled in circles.
After a moment Lainey spoke, “What if the same person killed Rachel and drugged us and made it look like we did it?”
I was long past that assumption but I didn't say anything. I had nothing good to add to it.
“We better go inside. Your dad didn't sound happy.”
“I bet he isn’t.” I chuckled a little, not on purpose. But the whole thing was insane. We had just called my father to come and help us cover up a murder. I dragged myself up to my knees, wincing when I felt a stabbing pain. I stood
and looked at the shard of wood in my knee. I dragged it out and staggered inside looking intoxicated, but in reality I was overwhelmed, overcooked, and bleeding from the knee.
I grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around my soaking wet body, not even bothering to dry off.
Inside the games room off the back of the house, I expected to find my father but what I got was much worse. Lainey’s dad sat at the counter. My father was pouring drinks behind the bar, a job he rarely did. Someone was on speakerphone, talking to our dads at the bar. I listened for a second and realized quickly it was Sierra’s dad.
Those all were explainable, but the strikingly gorgeous woman sitting by the fire in a slimming black dress was not. I didn't know her at all. And I couldn't place the girl sitting next to her who looked just like her. Clearly they were sisters, which around here meant they were mother and daughter. Both tall, slim, olive skinned, dark haired, and stunningly beautiful. The girl looked like she might have had a rough night as well. Her gray eyes were haunted looking and her lip quivered every few seconds.
I stood in the doorway, completely confused by what I was seeing.
Had Dad called a gathering?
Chapter Eight
Excuses, explanations, and lies?
My dad offered us hot cocoa with some Baileys in it. I sipped mine, letting it attempt to warm me inside. It didn't succeed but the feeling of the heat was nice.
We sat, huddled by the fire, each of us confused about the reason for the other two people in the room being there. It hadn’t been explained to us yet. My dad finished putting the bandage on my knee and stood up, looking at us all. “Girls, we need to hear exactly what happened. Sierra, your father is on speakerphone. He’s in New York and driving here now, but he wants to know the details so he’s ready in case there are accusations thrown about.”
“Hi, Sierra. Girls.” Her father spoke in a tone I knew too well. It was the one I got from my father when he was really angry. So angry he was quiet.
“Sage, your mom is on her way back now. They managed to leave earlier than they had intended. She will be here in a few hours,” my father offered, looking uncomfortably at Sage. My eyes darted to the girl on the couch opposite me. My father saw my stare and nodded. “This is Helen and her daughter Marguerite Lacroix. I’m sure I don't have to tell you that Mr. Lacroix is the mayor here. You all know of him, of course.” He was not there though.