The Bakersville Dozen

by Kristina McBride

“Tomorrow night’s party is going to rock the start of summer.” Jude laughed, holding a fist out to Wes. “Good to see you again, man.”

  “Always,” Wes said as he bumped Jude’s fist with his own. Guilt exploded through my chest, watching the two of them together. But then I reminded myself that Wes and I were the only ones who had any idea of our history. All I had to do was keep it that way and no one would get hurt.

  Jude stepped back until he was by my side again, the motion so natural it gave me a boost of strength. Jude’s arm glided around my waist, pulling me tight. I leaned into his body, tilting my head onto his shoulder.

  “You guys still going to get those fireworks tonight?” I asked, wishing he could stay, knowing he couldn’t because I needed to keep him safe, too.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Sucks that we have to truck it all the way to Kentucky for the big ones, but it’ll be worth it tomorrow night when we’re watching the show.”

  “The cash is inside.” Tripp turned, taking the steps two at a time. “After you texted me, I hit up all the BHS grads I saw during exam week—every single one of them was planning to come. This is going to be a huge-ass party, you know?”

  “You got that,” Jude said, his fingers twisting the braided belt looped through my capris. “Jonesy’s parties always are.”

  “His parents are okay with the crowd?” Hannah asked, her bare feet swimming in the grass, toenails glistening with the same glittery pink polish she’d used on her fingernails.

  “They’re out of town,” a voice said from behind Jude and me. I turned and found Jonesy walking toward us, the line of woods a shadow behind him, his trademark, one-dimpled grin lighting up his face. “Annual trip out west to a bunch of wineries with their dinner group. Won’t be home until the day before graduation.”

  Lane was a few steps behind Jonesy, his eyes shaded by the brim of a Bakersville High School baseball cap. “His safety has been entrusted to his two older brothers. Like that should be some kind of relief.”

  “We’re expecting a few hundred, minimum,” Jonesy said. “My brothers mowed the back field yesterday so there’ll be enough room for everyone to camp out.”

  “Standard rules apply.” Lane wrapped an arm around Jonesy’s neck as they stepped into our circle—it was a cross between a hug and some awkward wrestling move. “Most importantly, no one drives off the property until morning. Last thing we need’s a five-oh alert for this one.”

  From inside the kitchen, Tripp kicked the screen door open and stepped down to the grass. “Here you go, man. It’s—” Tripp stopped mid-sentence, noticing Jonesy and Lane. “Hey. Where’d you two come from?”

  “I was about to ask the same thing,” Hannah said, her eyes darting from the tree line to Jude’s friends.

  “Woods.” Jonesy threw his thumb over his shoulder. “We walked from my place. Jude told us to meet him here so we could collect the rest of the cash before we head out.”

  “This is almost two hundred,” Tripp said, handing a wad of cash to Jude. “Sorry, again, that I didn’t meet you after school. My mom left a list of shit for me to do this morning, and I kinda passed out on the couch after I finished.”

  “No big deal.” Jude squeezed me against him. “Bailey made it worth the trip.”

  “Ugh.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “Stop. You were already voted Cutest Couple. Had pictures taken for the yearbook and everything. No need to shove all that sickening happiness in our faces.”

  “Agreed,” Jonesy said.

  “Jealous much?” Jude laughed and nuzzled his face in my neck, planting a string of kisses from my ear to my collarbone. I looked at Wes as Jude’s lips touched my skin—I couldn’t help it—and the guilt sizzled to life again. I didn’t deserve Jude. I hadn’t for months now. But when I noticed the look in Wes’s eyes, the guilt was burned away by a new feeling. Confusion. Wes didn’t look angry or irritated or even bored. He looked hurt.

  “So, Bailey,” Jonesy said, “you coming to the party?”

  “Dude,” Jude said, “I told you not to mention that.”

  “Sorry, man, I was just thinking if we all talk to her, let her know we’ll watch out for her, that maybe—”

  “She’s not going,” Tripp said.

  “Yeah.” I swept a strand of hair behind one ear. “But I totally understand Jude’s commitment to help, so no worries.”

  “I heard all of The Bakersville Dozen girls are too scared to camp at the farm, so they’re heading to Warner’s house for a slumber party.”

  “Dude,” Lane said. “Terrified girls dressed in nighties? We should hit that.”

  Hannah smacked Lane on the shoulder. “Have some respect.”

  “Fair warning,” I said. “Cops are staking out Sylvie’s to make sure everyone’s safe. I’d steer clear.”

  “Maybe they’re using you as bait,” Jonsey said with a laugh. “All of you in one place? Makes it easier to figure out where the next girl’ll go missing.” He paused then, looking around, his laughter faded away. “That was insensitive, yeah? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, because Bailey isn’t going,” Hannah said. “It’s a girls’ night for us.”

  “Wait, you’re staying here?” Jude asked. “Isn’t that going to piss Sylvie off?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t really care. All I want to do is hang out with Hannah. And maybe, just maybe, if we get bored, we might swing by the farm.”

  “You’re kidding,” Jude said, pulling me tighter, a grin spreading across his face.

  “Yeah,” Tripp said. “She is. Because she’s not going to any party tomorrow night. She’s staying right here.”

  “Lighten up, Tripp. I could go for a few. Just to feel normal. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

  I did. I knew I did. Normal was something I needed. But that wasn’t the only reason I was thinking about the party. The latest clue had directed me to Jonesy’s farm. If I had the chance to save someone, I had to do everything in my power to try. Once I told the detective about the clues, I’d convince him to let me go to Jonsey’s. I might be able to help them catch whoever was behind this.

  Tripp shook his head. “Right now, it’s not about what you deserve, B. It’s about keeping you safe.”

  “You guys should get going.” Hannah grabbed my hand and spun me away from Jude. “Whether we’re there or not, fireworks are important for tomorrow night.”

  Jude reached out and snagged my wrist, pulling me back to his side. I wanted to melt into him, but I couldn’t. I had to face this scavenger hunt on my own. He kissed me, the action so natural it didn’t matter that we were standing in front of everyone. Until I thought of the look I’d seen in Wes’s eyes, and, for a flash, all of my guilt blossomed again.

  “I’ll call you when we get back,” Jude whispered into my ear. “I want to see you later tonight, okay?”

  I closed my eyes, feeling Jude’s voice wash over me. Then his hand slipped free from mine, and they were walking away—Jude, Jonesy, and Lane—side-by-side, toward the red Ford pickup Jude had bought from his grandfather the year before.

  “You think he heard anything?” Hannah asked as they hopped into the cab, both doors slamming as the engine roared to life. “Before he came into the kitchen, we were talking about her.”

  “You’re asking if he heard us talking about a dead chick out at the pond, and then played it off for the next ten minutes?” Tripp’s voice was soft, like he was afraid someone was listening in.

  “Stupid question?” Hannah asked.

  “Yeah,” Tripp said. “Very.”

  “He didn’t hear anything.” I watched as Jude pulled forward, circling the end of the driveway and heading back the way he’d come, waving just before he disappeared between the two houses. “If he thought something was up, he never would have left my side.”

  CHAPTER 8

  4:33 PM

  “Unless, of course, he’s in on it,” Wes said, his eyes locking on mine.

  “What?�
� I asked.

  Hannah snorted. “Seriously?”

  “Guys who look like saints? They usually aren’t.” Wes clenched his teeth, his jaw tight.

  “You’re just jealous,” Hannah said. “You couldn’t be committed to a ham sandwich for more than ten minutes.”

  “No offense or anything, B,” Wes said with a shake of his head, “but Jude could never compare to me.”

  As I stood there in the grass by the deck, I felt like my heart was going to break open. Part of me—a part that I would never give into again—believed him. But that was nothing more than a momentary lapse—reflex. Which is exactly what had happened five months ago, the night Wes’s family hosted their annual Christmas party. I loved Jude. And that was all that mattered.

  “If you’re crazy enough to bring up Jude, you might as well throw Jonesy and Lane into the mix,” Hannah said. “I mean, they both just waltzed out of the woods.”

  “Point taken.” Wes shrugged. “It’s worth considering all three.”

  “Well, it isn’t Jude,” I said. “My boyfriend is not a killer.”

  “Why are we even talking about any of those guys?” Hannah asked. “May I remind you that Roger Turley was at the high school today?”

  “He could have put the clue in my locker. Combinations are still listed on the homeroom class lists, and those are always at the attendance desk.”

  “I’m all for creating a list of suspects,” Tripp said. “But first, we have to consider our options.”

  “What options?” I asked, my mind spinning as it returned to the memory of Leena’s body, lying there, so very still.

  “Option one,” Tripp said, “we wait for the cops.”

  “I thought that’s what we were doing,” I said.

  “Yeah, but they won’t be here for a while yet. We need to consider the clues, right? Try to figure out the identity of—”

  “No,” I said. “I’ve already broken one rule. I’m worried enough about the penalty for that.”

  “How in the hell would a kidnapper-slash-killer have insider information?” Tripp asked. “It’s an obvious bluff to scare you into silence.”

  “But what if it’s not,” Hannah said. “What if the killer has a way to keep track of Bailey’s movements?”

  “You’re creeping me out,” I said, taking a deep breath.

  Tripp backed toward the deck and sat on one of the wooden steps. “Option two: We do whatever this freak says—with the police as back-up, of course—follow the clues and don’t mess around.”

  “Not a good idea,” Wes said. “The killer would be in control of everything then. Us. The girls who are missing. And the police.”

  “What if we turn it around on him?” Hannah looked at me, her eyes glistening with a crazy scheme. “We all know who the most likely suspect is. Since I saw Turley at school, we have something to go on. It’s a way to spin this whole thing so we can track him down and—”

  “How do you suggest we do that?” I asked. “Seeing Roger Turley in the athletic wing is way different than seeing him in front of my open locker with a red envelope in his hand. And tracking him down once he’s released? If he’s the killer, that’s beyond dangerous.”

  “Look,” Hannah said with an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t know, okay? But we have to try something here. Something that’ll trip him up. Whoever this is, he’s messing with all of us now. And if we have the chance to save those girls, we can’t fuck it up.”

  “Just because Roger Turley looks guilty doesn’t mean it’s him.” Wes backed his way to the porch railing, crossing one foot over the other as he leaned against it. “The only thing we know for sure is that whoever it is, he’s close enough to you to know details about your life, where you live, that the pond is one of your favorite places, and—”

  “If you look at it that way,” Tripp said, “we have a lot more to go on than a few random clues and a dead body.”

  “Yeah,” Hannah said. “If we list all the little things, we might just be able to make some progress.”

  “Maybe we can nail down a few more suspects,” Tripp said. “Wes and I can watch them at the party tomorrow night. Mr. Turley or not, the killer has to slip up at some point. We can help catch him.”

  “Jude’s at the top of my list,” Wes said.

  Hannah laughed, like Wes had made a hilarious of joke. Tripp just shook his head. I almost told Wes to drop the jealous act—he was the player extraordinaire—but I couldn’t say anything, not with Tripp and Hannah standing right there.

  He wouldn’t pull me in. Not this way. Not any way. It was exactly what he wanted.

  “Whatever,” I said. “You go right ahead and keep an eye on Jude . . . Hannah and I can watch everyone else.”

  “No way,” Tripp said. “Wes and I will cover the party. Mom and Dad would kill me if anything—”

  “I have to go,” I insisted. “I’m sure the cops’ll agree. After all these months, I’m the only person who’s had contact with the killer. They can set up some kind of surveillance or wire me or—”

  “Forget the cops,” Hannah said. “Forget the party and the next clue. We have to act now. You guys already know what I think we should do next.”

  “No way,” Wes said. “We are not going back to the pond, Han. Trust me. You don’t want to see the body. Besides that, we’re waiting for the detective.”

  “We have time.” Hannah pulled her phone from the pocket in her sundress. “About a half hour. It’s the best way to gather more information.”

  “No.” Wes uncrossed his ankles and took a step forward.

  He kept talking, but the sudden rushing in my head blocked out his voice. All I could see were his ankles. Crossed and uncrossed, one slipping off of the other. My eyes blurred until Wes’s ankles were no longer his, but different, pale and dainty. The image of Leena lying at the pond leaped to my mind. I had missed something. Something so obvious.

  Leena had been placed there on that blanket. Her hair was spread around her head and shoulders like she was floating in water. Her arms had been propped on her chest like she was sleeping. Her legs, gray and waxy, were crossed delicately at the ankle.

  “He posed her,” I said, interrupting Wes. “Leena. He posed her body.”

  “He did?” Hannah looked from me to Wes, and back again, her eyes wide. “How could you leave that out? It changes everything.”

  “There’s more,” I said.

  “I don’t want to hear it.” Hannah stood, her sundress swooshing around her legs. “We have to go out there. I need to see her.”

  “She moved.” My voice was so soft, I could hardly hear my own words. I cleared my throat and I said them again. “Leena moved.”

  “I’m confused,” Tripp said. “Leena moved? As in, she’s not really dead?”

  “Trust me, dude,” Wes said, “that chick is completely and totally, all the way dead.”

  “But she moved.” I looked at Wes. “When you grabbed the clue, her legs were crossed at the ankle. And when we fell, we bumped her and the top leg slipped off. Aren’t dead bodies supposed to be as hard as stone?”

  “Holy shit.” Hannah tipped her head, checking her phone for a moment before she answered. “Rigor mortis.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “That.”

  Hannah’s fingers danced across the screen, her eyes squinting in the sunlight. “According to Wikipedia, rigor mortis starts three to four hours after death, reaching maximum—eew—stiffness after twelve hours, and gradually dissipates until approximately forty-eight to sixty hours later.”

  “So,” Tripp said, “she either died sometime this afternoon, maybe even late morning, or it was a few days ago.”

  “It’s the first week of June. Sunny and eighty degrees with humidity,” Hannah said. “Was she showing any signs of decomposition?”

  “What, exactly, does that look like?” Wes asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Hannah said, her nose crinkling, “but I think you’d pretty much know.”

  “She
was gray. And the bottoms of her legs were kind of black and splotchy.”

  “Blood starts pooling to the lowest part of the body right after death,” Hannah told us. “Do you guys realize what this means?”

  “You watch way too many crime dramas?” Tripp asked.

  “No, genius. It means that she’s been alive all this time.” Hannah’s words were punchy and forceful. “Leena’s been alive since the guy took her that first week of February.”

  “That means the others could be, too!” I felt a new surge of hope.

  “And if they are, we have the chance to save them,” Hannah said. “But only if we gather evidence before the cops come in and shut us out of the investigation. Even if they use Bailey for the clues, they won’t tell us a thing.”

  I looked at Hannah, Tripp, and Wes; they’d all gone silent. My mind replayed a million little moments that had passed since Emily Simms went missing in January—tying yellow ribbons to the trees in the center of town, their forked tails whipping in the breeze of an approaching storm; listening to the press conferences where each set of parents pleaded for the return of their daughter; avoiding the news vans and reporters lined up at the front of the high school, throwing facts around like they didn’t affect real people. The details shuffled through my mind. If we played our hand right, we might be able to return four girls to their grieving families. We had the chance to take the tragedy that had brought our entire town to its knees and turn the whole thing into a miracle.

  Hannah started walking then, away from the house and the sweet gum and the three of us, her arms swinging, her sundress swishing back and forth with each determined step.

  “Where the hell are you going?” Tripp asked.

  “To see Leena,” Hannah called over her shoulder. “You guys coming or not?”

  CHAPTER 9

  4:47 PM

  “You’re really just going to stand there?” Hannah asked, hugging herself. Behind her, the tall grass leaped toward the sky, as if each blade wanted to flee from Leena’s body as much as I did. Tripp was there, too, looking smaller somehow, and pale.

  “Yes, I’m going to stand right here,” I said, leaning against the old tree at the water’s edge. My capris caught on a rusted nail poking out from one of the ladder rungs I’d climbed earlier. “I saw her already. The image is burned on the inside of my eyelids, so if you need my input on anything, I’ll just refer to my mental files.”