She Was the Quiet One

by Michele Campbell

  As Bel approached the shelter, Heath stepped out and scanned the horizon. He beckoned her, then stepped back into the shadow. She ran the last twenty feet, ready to throw herself into his arms, but his expression when she got there put her off.

  “What’s the matter?” she said.

  “Did anybody see you?”

  “No. I was careful.”

  “Good. Have a seat. There’s something we need to discuss,” he said.

  This was not the welcome she’d been dreaming of.

  The shelter was a rough wooden structure with a roof and three sides. The front of it was open to the air, and provided a lovely view of the lake. A built-in bench ran along the back wall. Bel sat down on it, and Heath sat beside her. He took her hands, but not in a romantic way, more like he was preventing her from running away.

  “I’ve tried to deal with this without bringing it up to you, because I didn’t want to alarm you. But something’s happened, and we need to talk.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “A while ago, somebody sent my wife a picture of us having sex in the laundry room. Was that you? Did you do that?”

  He spoke matter-of-factly. But there was a coldness to his tone that chilled her. She wondered what he would do if the answer was yes. Fortunately, she wouldn’t find out.

  “Me? N-no. Of course not. Why would I?” she said.

  “Some misguided idea of breaking up my marriage. Having me to yourself.”

  “God. No. That’s crazy. Heath, I would never do that.”

  He stared her in the face stonily. Then he breathed out. “I believe you.”

  “Well, yeah. You should. But—what happened? What did your wife say?”

  “The image quality was poor. I was able to convince her that it wasn’t me in the picture. That might not be true the next time.”

  “The next time?”

  “That’s right. There’s a second picture, of you getting into my car. It hasn’t been sent to Sarah yet, or I would know. But somebody followed us, and photographed us, and is trying to hurt us by exposing our relationship. Just because they haven’t succeeded yet, doesn’t mean they’ll stop trying. Who is it?”

  Of course Bel knew who was doing this. It had to be Rose. She’d admitted following them in the laundry room. She’d obviously followed Bel into the woods, too, and snapped the picture of her getting into Heath’s car. But Bel couldn’t tell Heath that. Not with the way he was behaving. He’d explode.

  “Who did it, Bel?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, but her voice was shaky, and she could see he didn’t believe her.

  “I think you do know. It must be a student. Somebody close to you, or someone who has a grudge against you.” He tightened his grip on her hands. “This isn’t a game. We have a problem, and we have to take care of it. Who sent the picture, Bel?”

  “It—it might’ve been Rose who took it.”

  “Might have been? Or it was?”

  “She said she had a picture like that. I didn’t believe her.”

  “Which picture?”

  “I don’t know, it’s confusing. I think both.”

  “When did she tell you this?”

  “Last night.”

  “That night in the laundry room was nearly two months ago. If Rose took that picture, why would she only tell you now? Are you lying to me?”

  “No, I swear.”

  “You were lying a minute ago when you said you didn’t know who sent the picture.”

  “Stop. You’re hurting my wrists. You’re scaring me.”

  Heath let go of her hands. “I’m sorry. This subject is very upsetting.”

  Bel had tears in her eyes. She’d never seen him like this. He was terrifying this way.

  “We were having a fight,” Bel said. “That’s why Rose brought up the picture. She hadn’t done anything with it in all that time. She was just using it to threaten me.”

  “Threaten you how?”

  “I don’t know. Show it to someone, maybe.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he said, dropping his head into his hands.

  “No, it’s okay. We made up. Rose and I are friends again. She didn’t do anything yet, and she won’t now, I’m sure.”

  Better to lie to him than have him this upset. He looked up, but his eyes were still troubled.

  “I can’t rely on that, Bel. The board of trustees meets in a week to vote on the new headmaster. I can’t have any problems, don’t you see?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “No, I don’t think you do. I need that picture. I want it deleted. Where is it? Is it on her phone?”

  “I don’t know. I never saw it.”

  “You have to get it.”

  “I mean, all right. I can try.”

  “Not try. You have to get it. Do you understand the magnitude of this problem?” He glared at her like there was something wrong with her. “No, you know what, Bel? Forget it. I would be foolish to trust you to handle this situation. Have Rose come out here. I’ll talk to her myself.”

  “Come here? Now?”

  “Not now. Tonight.”

  “Won’t that be—awkward?”

  He laughed bitterly. “Awkward? For Chrissakes, this is what I get for sleeping with a dumb kid. Your sister is going to blackmail me with this photograph, and you’re worried it’ll be awkward?”

  “I really don’t think she would blackmail you, Heath.”

  “You just told me she threatened to do exactly that to you.”

  “No, not exactly. I mean, sort of. But—”

  “I don’t have time for this nonsense, Bel. I’m going to tell you what to do, and you’re going to do it. Do you hear me?”

  Her hands were shaking. “All right.”

  “Here’s the deal. You make up a story that will convince Rose to meet you here tonight, at this shelter. I don’t care what you say. Just make it convincing, and whatever you do, don’t mention the photos. And don’t mention my name. Got it?”

  “Okay. What time should I tell her?”

  “After check-in, once it’s dark. I’ll send you a text with the time.” He paused. “That reminds me. Give me your phone.”

  She handed him her phone, and told him her passcode. He deleted their texts from earlier.

  “Do you happen to know your sister’s passcode?” he asked, casually.

  “Why do you need that?”

  “Just in case she refuses to delete the photo. I might have to do it for her.”

  “Do it for her? How? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I might have to take her phone and delete the photo.”

  “You won’t—” She began, but she was afraid to ask the terrible question that had formed in her mind.

  “Won’t what?” he said, standing up next to her.

  “You wouldn’t … hurt Rose, would you?”

  “Of course not, baby. I just want to have an honest, reasonable conversation with her, in the hope I can convince her to delete the photo. That would be in everybody’s best interests, don’t you agree?”

  She breathed out in relief, realizing only then that she’d been holding her breath. “Yes. You’re right. Thank you,” Bel said.

  “What is Rose’s passcode?”

  “I know what it used to be, like, a long time ago. When we were close. We don’t talk much lately.”

  “What was it before?”

  “When we were younger, her lucky number was seven. It was four sevens. I don’t know if she changed it.”

  “Let’s hope she didn’t. Thank you, little love, thank you for trusting me,” he said.

  Heath put a finger under her chin and tilted her face toward his.

  “I’m sorry if I was short with you. I’ve been under a lot of stress. Forgive me?” he said.

  He leaned in and kissed her tenderly. At the touch of his lips, her fears melted like ice on the lake. Heath cared about her, and so long as Bel did as he said, everything would be all right.

 
41

  Because of her awful fight with Bel, Rose’s friends were treating her with a noticeable reserve, almost as if they were afraid of her. Emma had obviously told everyone that the fight got violent, as if that was Rose’s fault at all, in the slightest. Bel was the one who’d snuck into Rose’s room in the dead of night, stole her computer with all her important work on it, then punched and pummeled Rose when she (quite understandably) tried to retrieve her property. Bel was the dangerous, unstable sister. Rose was the studious, quiet one, the good citizen, the reliable friend. But nobody seemed to see that. Kids kept their distance now. Not just now. Again. Just when Rose had gotten past the trouble over the slipper incident. Bel had started that one, too, yet Rose wound up taking the blame. That happened every single time, throughout her entire life. It was so unfair.

  At dinner on Tuesday night, Rose once again sat at the Moreland table, only to find her so-called friends politely ignoring her. She blinked back tears, not wanting anyone to see how hurt she was. But she wouldn’t sit here and suck it up for longer than absolutely necessary. She’d go to the library, and study by herself until check-in. She gulped down her meat loaf and green beans, then rose and said a terse good-bye.

  Rose bused her tray and went to find her coat. Zach Cuddy stood near the coatracks, like he was waiting, or watching for something. He’d been avoiding her, too, though for a reason that had nothing to do with her fight with Bel. He caught sight of her now, and turned away.

  “I see you over there, Zach,” Rose called. “Don’t try to sneak away.”

  “I’m not sneaking.”

  “Yes, you are,” she said, coming up to him. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “That’s nuts, Enright. I deny that completely.”

  But he had been avoiding her, and she knew why. He owed her an explanation, and he obviously had nothing to report.

  The night that Zach stopped Brandon Flynn and Tessa Romano from threatening Rose on the path, she was feeling shaky and vulnerable. He took her to the library, and bought her a cup of hot chocolate from the vending machine. They found some cozy chairs in a quiet corner, and he sat with her as she calmed down. He was so attentive, so protective, that her qualms about confiding in him evaporated. That was before her big fight with Bel, when Rose’s main thought was to get Donovan to leave her poor sister alone. She made the mistake of showing Zach the photo of Bel and Donovan having sex in the laundry room. He stared at it with such rage that he almost scared her. His voice as he promised to take care of Donovan left Rose no doubt that he’d do something about it. If anything, she feared he’d do something stupid. But instead, it appeared he had done nothing. It had been more than a week since she gave him the photo. As of last night, when they had their huge fight, Bel was still involved with Donovan. So, what gives?

  “Zach, I’ve messaged you at least four times to tell me what’s going on about that photo. You ignore me.”

  Rose had done more than just message Zach repeatedly. She’d lurked near classrooms where she knew he’d be, gone to meals at times he liked to go, looking to bump into him. But he’d developed a sixth sense for when she was nearby. He always managed to leave her staring at his back as he beat a hasty retreat. Not this time.

  Zach looked about jerkily. “Jesus, shut up. Somebody might hear.”

  “Nobody’s listening. And if they are, I don’t care. I trusted you, and you did nothing. Except stalk my sister.”

  “You’re mental.”

  “She told me about the second photo. Of her getting into Donovan’s car. Tell me that wasn’t you. What game are you playing, Zach?”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her behind the coats. There was an odd look in his eyes.

  “The second photo? How did Bel know about that?”

  “I have no idea. I assumed you told her.”

  “Where is she now?” he asked. “She hasn’t come to dinner yet.”

  “Is that why you’re skulking there? Waiting for Bel?”

  “I’m not skulking,” he said indignantly. “I just need to know where she is. I have to ask her something.”

  “What about confronting Donovan with the sex picture? When are you going to do that?” Rose demanded.

  “Will you keep your voice down?” he said, in an angry whisper. “That picture from the laundry room sucks, Rose. You can’t even see their faces.”

  “That’s why you haven’t done anything?”

  “We need better evidence if we want to move against Donovan. And that’s not the only problem. Something’s weird with my phone. I think maybe it’s bugged. I think Donovan’s on to me.”

  “You’re wigging out, Zach. No, wait. You’re using this, as an excuse to follow Bel around. If I gave a shit about her, I might worry about her having a crazy stalker. But I’m done with her, and I’m done with you,” Rose said, grabbing her parka from the rack. She shrugged into it, and headed for the door. “See ya,” she said.

  Outside, the weather had changed yet again. This climate made her head spin. The day had dawned chilly, blustery and clear. In the late afternoon, the sky clouded over, and began to snow, in wet, heavy flakes that quickly coated the trees and the lawns. A half hour ago, when she’d entered the dining hall, Odell had looked like a winter wonderland. But while she’d been inside, a warm front had moved in. The air was balmy now, and the snow was melting fast, giving off a strange, wispy mist. Rivulets of water dripped from the eaves of buildings, and the fog was thickening. It was almost eerie. Rose decided to skip the library. She went straight back to Moreland, where she studied in her room until eight, then went down to the common room for check-in. She was on her way back upstairs, when her phone buzzed. She saw with surprise that she had a Facebook message from Bel.

  “I need to talk to you,” was all it said.

  Rose went back to her room, and sat at her desk, staring at the message, thinking about what to say. She’d just about decided not to reply when the phone buzzed again, with a single-word message this time.

  “Please,” Bel had written.

  “Why should I?” Rose wrote back.

  “We’re sisters. I’m sad at how things are.”

  Rose had been sad about that for a while now, wishing things could change. But after that fight last night, she was so angry that she didn’t know if she could get past it. Something felt different, like maybe she’d given up on Bel for real this time.

  “Used to be sad, now just pissed,” she wrote. “People blame me bc of u, they think I’m crazy bc of our fight.”

  “Rose, please. I’m desperate. Can you come to the shelter at Lost Lake now please pretty please,” Bel wrote.

  “Are you crazy? It’s dark, and I don’t go out of bounds,” she wrote, using Odell slang for leaving your dorm after check-in. “If ur there now, ur out of bounds too so u better come back or I’m telling.”

  “I can’t come back.”

  That gave Rose pause. “Why not?” she wrote.

  “BC of him,” Bel replied.

  “Who him? Donovan?” Rose asked.

  “Yes. I need ur help.”

  She paused. Was it possible that Bel was truly in trouble? That she was involved in something with Mr. Donovan that somehow put her in danger? Or was this just some scam, a way to seek revenge by getting Rose to leave the dorm, and get in trouble.

  “Things are so bad, just come, I need u,” Bel wrote.

  Rose didn’t reply. Yes, there was something seductive about being asked for help. But she didn’t trust Bel. How could she, when they’d come to physical blows? She still ached from where her sister punched her in the stomach. Rose waited, trying to decide what to do. Her phone lit up again.

  “Pls—I’m scared,” Bel had written.

  The message gave Rose a chill. She was about to message back, when the green light next to Bel’s name blinked off. Active 1m ago, Facebook said.

  “Bel????” Rose wrote.

  She waited, her heart pounding. There was no answer.

  Rose
always followed the rules. She would normally never consider leaving the dorm after check-in without a pass from a teacher. Sneaking out was a disciplinary offense, and she planned to graduate from this school without a single black mark on her record. Plus, she didn’t like the woods around Odell. They were thick and dark and spooky, even in the light of day. The thought of walking into them at night, in the cold and fog, was horrible to her. And yet … as the minutes ticked away, as Rose messaged Bel several times more and received no reply, as she dialed Bel’s phone and got only voicemail, she began to think she had no choice. Bel was the only family she had left in the world—other than Grandma, who didn’t think much of Rose, and would think even less if she failed to help her sister. She had to find Bel.

  Rose put her coat on. Then she had second thoughts, and took it off again. Bel couldn’t be trusted. This was a scam. Bel was trying to get Rose in trouble, or get her alone, in order to steal Rose’s phone, and get that photo. Rose shouldn’t fall for it. She should look out for herself, and stop worrying about Bel. Everything that happened to Bel was her own fault anyway.

  But what if Bel was in real trouble?

  Rose could go, but go prepared. She would proceed carefully. Check things out each step of the way, before proceeding further. Be on alert, in case this actually was some kind of setup. She entered the number for Odell Security into her phone so it was ready to dial at a moment’s notice. Her phone already had a flashlight, but she also downloaded a compass, and a map of the Odell grounds and the adjacent nature preserve. Then she put on her coat.

  She was almost ready. Just one more thing. She needed a weapon. Something sharp, to defend herself with if things went bad.

  42

  Rose crept down the stairs and paused on the first-floor landing. It was milk-and-cookies night, and cheerful voices emanated from the common room. The smell of Mrs. Donovan’s chocolate-chip cookies wafted into the hall, and Rose felt a pang of longing. She wished she could go to Mrs. Donovan now, eat a cookie, share her troubles. Right, and say what? Your husband is a monster. He has my sister under his sway. I think she’s trying to lure me into the woods. I want to blackmail them, but I’m too much of a wimp. Things were so far beyond that. All Rose could do was sigh as she tiptoed down the hall and out the front door of Moreland.