The Bakersville Dozen

by Kristina McBride

  “No freaking way.” Tripp shoved his phone in his pocket. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

  “He’s right.” Wes spun around, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the edge of the stage.

  Tripp leaped just before us, legs bracing as his feet hit the grass. He held his arms out, offering both hands to Hannah. I thought she was going to refuse him on principle, but she grabbed his wrists and let him swing her from the stage. They raced off toward the tree line.

  “Ready?” Wes asked, grabbing my hand and squeezing once before slipping away.

  And then he jumped.

  I was alone on that stage with Becca Hillyer.

  I felt her behind me, so I turned back. I owed her one last look.

  Then I heard rustling, the snapping of a branch, someone tramping through the wooded trails, coming closer, and fast.

  “Bruno!” a woman’s voice called out. “Slow down!”

  “Come on, B!” Wes whisper-shouted. “Jump!”

  But I couldn’t. My eyes were locked on the one thing we couldn’t leave behind—the envelope emblazoned with my name—the red paper like spilled blood pooling in the center of Becca’s chest.

  Wes gripped my ankle as I stepped back, giving one swift tug and knocking me off balance until I tumbled to the stage floor.

  “For fuck’s sake, B. Get down here!”

  “Bruno, heel!” The woman’s voice was breathless, rushed, and close. Way too close. “Heel, Goddamnit!”

  I crawled to the center of the stage, not trusting my shaky legs to hold me.

  My fingers grazed the blue blanket. The soft cotton reminded me of my favorite T-shirt. Becca’s hair rippled like silk as I grabbed the envelope and pulled it free from the hand still resting on her chest. I swiveled and crawled back to the edge of the stage, this time staying low. The dog’s breath was coming in snorting grunts, his owner’s feet clomping on the ground close behind.

  When I got to the edge of the stage, Wes reached around my waist and pulled me down. My feet had barely grazed the ground before he was hauling me along toward the edge of the woods.

  Tripp and Hannah were waiting, ghost-white faces peeking from behind a large tree.

  “Shit guys,” Hannah said. “I thought you were busted.”

  Tripp flicked me on my head. “Don’t you ever pull something like that again!”

  “I had to get the clue!” I said, holding out the envelope. “My name’s on it, you guys. Talk about leaving evidence behind.”

  “That was too close.” Wes shook his head, pulling me in until my face was tucked against his chest. His heart was beating fast, and I focused on the sound, trying to steady myself.

  “Way too close,” Tripp said from behind me.

  Hannah was silent. She grabbed my shoulder and squeezed.

  I pulled away from Wes. I had to. The whole thing—me pressed up against him, him pressed up against me, the two of us wrapped tightly around each other—it felt too familiar. Too good.

  The four of us stood huddled, hair tousled, eyes frantic, shivering with adrenaline.

  Then we heard the scream.

  Becca Hillyer had been found.

  The game had just taken a very dangerous turn.

  CHAPTER 19

  11:17 PM

  “What the hell is going on with you and Wes?” Hannah asked. We were back in the field Jonesy was using as a parking lot.

  “What are you talking about?” I ignored her stare, focusing on Wes and Tripp, who were just ahead of us. We’d agreed not to walk back together; Hannah and I would wait until the guys were in line for the keg. They’d wanted us to go first, afraid that we might disappear, but I’d said I needed a few minutes to compose myself before returning to the party.

  “I’m talking about you and Wesley Green.” Hannah sighed, twisting sideways so she was facing me. “I’m your best friend, B. And I’m not blind. You want him.”

  “I do not!” I whisper-shouted, smacking her arm.

  Hannah laughed, her eyes going wide. “You do!”

  “Shut up, Hannah. I’m warning you.”

  “Oh, come on! Admit it. You’ve been in love with Wes, like, your entire freaking life!”

  “Please. I have not.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Bailey Holzman.”

  I groaned, dropping my head in my hands. “There’s nothing going on. Nothing except being stuck on this hunt with him for the next few days. And, hello? I’m dating Jude. End of story.”

  “Listen up, B, because I’m only going to say this once: Jude is incredible. He did the whole pine-for-you thing last fall, waiting around like you were the only girl in the world while you played the bashful, hard-to-get—”

  “I wasn’t acting, Han,” I said, thinking of how Jude had made it his mission to win me over. “Trust me, putting Jude off had nothing to do with playing a part.”

  “Whatever. You decided to give him a chance and you’ve been inseparable since.”

  “It was Suze,” I said, remembering how she’d stopped me in the hall, lockers slamming all around us, her eyes bright. “Suze Moore is the reason I finally decided to go out with Jude. She said he was a good guy—to the core—and that I’d be crazy not to give him a chance. So I did. And she was right. You’re right. He is incredible, Han.”

  “And that is exactly my point. Just don’t forget what Jude means to you. I’d hate for you to ruin something real for something that isn’t. I mean, we’re talking about Wes Green here—player of the century, heartbreaker, eternal avoider of commitment. Imagine how many girls he went through this past year, B. That alone should be enough to shut down any lingering—”

  “Trust me,” I said. “I’m perfectly in control of the situation.”

  “Are you sure?” Hannah gave me a side-glance. “Because it seems like you needed the reminder.”

  “Changing the subject now.” I looked past Wes and Tripp at the group huddled around the bonfire, its orange-yellow flames lashing out at the dark. “I cannot believe we came back here.”

  “No other choice,” Hannah said. “It would have looked weird if we hadn’t. Especially to Jude.”

  I sighed, pulling my phone from my purse. “He’s texted me, like, five times since we left for the park.”

  Hannah shook her head, twirling a brown curl around one finger. “He’s on to you.”

  “No way he knows anything about the scavenger hunt. I’ve hardly seen him since I got the first clue.”

  Hannah untwirled her hair, then started twirling it again, giving me an annoying little shrug. “I meant Wes. Jude’s not blind, either. You have to be careful.”

  “Shut up, Hannah!” I ducked my head and focused on the texts.

  JUDE—10:27PM:

  WHERE ARE YOU? TEXT ME ASAP.

  JUDE—10:31PM:

  FOR REAL. TEXT OR I’M COMING TO FIND YOU.

  JUDE—10:47PM:

  NEED TO TALK. NOW! CALL. ME.

  JUDE—10:49PM:

  B? PLEASE.

  JUDE—10:53PM:

  WHERE ARE YOU?! 911.

  And then there were two more, which somehow made all the others seem worse.

  SYLVIE W—11:07PM:

  IS IT TRUE?

  SYLVIE W—11:09PM:

  DON’T AVOID ME, B. I DESERVE AN ANSWER.

  I shoved off the side of the car, worry coiling tight in my chest. Jude wasn’t the clingy type. He was always cool with letting me do my own thing while he did his. But he was great at romance, coming up with the sweetest surprises like hidden notes and the candlelight picnic in the woods last month when he formally asked me to prom.

  “What is it?”

  “Something’s wrong, I said, speeding through the rows of cars, feeling Hannah close behind me. The crackle-snap of the flames was punctuated with rushed whispers.

  I saw Lane, eyes closed, face turned to the sky as he took a swig of beer.

  “Where’s Jude?” I asked, grabbing his shoulder.

  Lane looked at me, his
expression razor sharp. “Bailey? Jude’s been looking for you.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s . . . wait. Didn’t you hear?”

  “Damnit, Lane! Where is Jude?”

  Lane pointed over his shoulder toward the shadow of the barn. “Back there, but I wouldn’t go charging over. He’s being questioned right now.”

  I spun around and ran through the yard, past the tree with the Japanese lanterns, through a throng of people standing in a line fifty feet from the wooden frame of the barn.

  “Bailey!” Hannah shouted from behind me. “Wait!”

  But I couldn’t. My heart was racing again; the lightheaded feeling of fear was back.

  I shoved my way through the crowd and found him sitting on a tree stump, just in front of the barn’s entrance, the double doors flung wide, a swell of light glowing from beyond, illuminating the three police officers standing around him.

  Jude’s head was down, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. He was shaking, his shoulders jerking up and down.

  I didn’t stop to wonder what had happened.

  I just ran to him, dropping to my knees at his feet.

  He looked up, his eyes red and swollen, glistening in the lights.

  “Bailey.” His voice cracked. His hands shot out, gripping my shoulders. “Thank God, Bailey. You’re okay?” He pulled me to him, burying my face against his T-shirt, and I breathed in the scent of cigarettes, deodorant, and woods.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered into his chest.

  “I thought you were gone. I thought you’d been taken, and—”

  “I’m right here,” I said, pulling away from him, grabbing his face in my hands. “What happened? What’s wrong, Ju—”

  “Bailey Holzman?” The voice coming from behind Jude was gruff.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re okay?” another voice asked. Tiny Simmons. I pictured him standing in the grass in my backyard, leering, making me feel like I was on display, making me wonder if he was trying to catch me breaking the rules. The shaky fear of leaving Leena washed over me again, mixing in with the new feeling of leaving Becca behind. I could be looking their killer directly in the eyes.

  Too afraid to speak, I simply nodded.

  “Good,” he said, his lips turning up at the corners in the same fake half smile he’d used back at my house. “We’ve been concerned. We were going to call your parents as soon as we secured the scene.”

  “Scene?” I asked. “What scene?”

  “I wasn’t sure where you went.” Jude sniffed loudly, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “I’ve been totally freaked.”

  “Did you leave the farm?” Tiny asked, raising his eyebrows, the tone of his voice sounding more eager than it should for an officer questioning a potential victim. “Jude said he texted you several times, but you didn’t reply.”

  I opened my mouth, but had no idea how to respond. There was no way I could tell a trio of police officers that I’d just been at the Timber Park amphitheater where Becca Hillyer’s body was lying center stage. Especially if Tiny Simmons was the one behind the threats. This entire thing could be a horrific test, and if I failed, I would be putting the lives of seven other girls at risk.

  “We went back home.” The lie slid from my lips without hesitation. I looked over my shoulder and found Wes standing with his shoulders pulled back, chest tight, like he was ready for a fight. Tripp and Hannah were on either side of him. “Forgot something. No big deal.”

  “So you were right.” Tiny looked down at Jude.

  “What’s he talking about?” I whispered.

  Jude shook his head, dropping his eyes to the ground. “I didn’t like it—you leaving the party—it felt strange and I thought you seemed nervous, like maybe you didn’t really want to go. So I went looking for you. I thought if I walked through the woods, I’d be able to catch up and maybe snag a ride back here with you guys.”

  “You went to my house?” I asked, my stomach twisting. I’d just told Jude and three police officers that we’d gone home. If Jude did anything to ruin that story, we were screwed. Like, taken to the station, locked in an interrogation room, Did you happen to find a dead body at Timber Park? screwed.

  Jude shook his head.

  “I’m confused,” I said, placing a finger under his chin and tipping his face up so he had to look at me. “You didn’t go to my house?”

  “I didn’t make it that far.” His voice was a choked whisper.

  “Okay, well where did you go?”

  “The pond.”

  I felt my entire body stiffen. Tiny caught the reaction—I could feel his eyes on me.

  “I followed the trail to the pond and was heading to your house, but I had to take a piss.”

  I pictured her then, Leena, lying still in her grassy grave . . .

  “I walked around that big tree with the rope swing and the rotting step ladder, and went straight into the grasses off to the side.”

  . . . her hands tucked neatly together in the center of her chest . . .

  “I was a little stumbly and went farther in than I’d planned.”

  . . . her blood red lips shining in the bright light of the moon.

  “And I saw something glowing on the ground. I figured it was someone’s phone. Maybe someone else who’d had to piss in the woods like me.” Jude gasped for air.

  I wondered if Leena had gasped, too.

  “But it wasn’t a phone,” he said. “It was a tiara, the fake diamonds catching the moonlight and—”

  Jude looked right at me, then squeezed his eyes tight. Tears leaked down his cheeks.

  “I found her,” Jude said. “I found Leena.”

  I didn’t move.

  Stayed solid as stone.

  And I waited.

  Because I knew he wasn’t finished.

  “She’s dead, B. Leena’s dead.”

  Jude leaned forward, hiding his face in the slope of my neck, and he began to sob.

  CHAPTER 20

  1:23 AM

  I couldn’t sleep. I was lying on my stomach on top of my bed with my feet kicked up in the air, the ominous red envelope caught in a beam of moonlight streaming in from my window. My phone buzzed, offering a much needed distraction.

  SYLVIE W—1:24AM:

  WORD’S OUT. HAD TO TELL THE GIRLS.

  AMY L—1:24AM:

  OHMYGOD, B. ARE YOU OK?

  SUMMER J—1:26AM:

  PLEASE COME BACK. WE NEED YOU HERE.

  BETH K—1:28AM:

  IS JUDE A WRECK? WHAT DID HE TELL YOU?

  KELSEY H—1:29AM:

  IS IT REALLY TRUE?

  I couldn’t deal with them. Not now. I powered off my phone and turned it facedown on my bedspread. And that just brought me back around to the envelope. My name stared up at me, taunting me. I sighed, weighing my options. I wished I could just tuck the envelope into the inside pocket of my purse, along with the others, and forget everything.

  But I knew that wouldn’t work.

  I slipped my finger under the open flap and tugged the card free for what felt like the hundredth time.

  The words were the same, not that I had expected them to change since I’d first read the note in the front seat of Hannah’s Escape as she’d driven us from the park back to the party. While the police shut down the festivities at Jonesy’s farm, I’d debated handing the clue over, just ending the whole hunt right then and there, but fear stopped me. Fear that if I gave up, I’d face an even worse situation, fear that if Tiny was the killer, we’d lose even more girls and all because I didn’t follow a rule.

  The knowing look Tiny had given me as Jude pulled himself together had convinced me I was making the right decision back at the party. But as I re-read the latest clue, I wasn’t sure that right decisions existed anymore.

  DID YOU LIKE IT,

  BAILEY?

  HER STANDING OVATION?

  A FINAL PERFORMANCE DESERVES ONE!

  H
ERE’S HOPING SHE HEARD THE ROARING APPLAUSE . . .

  AS SHE DRIFTED AWAY.

  AND NOW IT’S TIME

  TO KEEP

  MOVING FORWARD.

  THE NEXT TASK IS A BREEZE:

  SIMPLY PONDER WHICH TOPPINGS

  YOU WILL CHOOSE AT THE FLYING PIZZA.

  TOMORROW NIGHT.

  10PM.

  ORDER FIRST,

  THEN SIT AND WAIT.

  YOUR NEXT CLUE COME BY SPECIAL DELIVERY.

  HAPPY HUNTING!

  My mind was spinning. The Flying Pizza sits in the center of town. Like, dead center. The kidnapper was daring to take this hunt public. So many things could go wrong. I felt trapped, my only choice to follow the clue and wait for whatever came next.

  Anger spread through me. For the girls—all of them, but especially Leena and Becca—and for myself.

  No one had the right to do this to us.

  I realized as I lay there in the purplish glow of the moon that I had lost all feeling of control. I’d thrown it away as soon as I’d found Leena by the pond.

  But that was over.

  It was time for me to figure a way out of this mess.

  I had to formulate a plan.

  I flipped over onto my back, eyes closed as I let this new determination wash over me.

  But my resolve was shattered by the clickety-clack of something hitting my window.

  I bolted upright, my bare feet sweeping to the floor, and stepped silently across my room. It was instinctive, I realized—an automatic reaction. My body tingled as I parted the curtains. I expected to find Wes, his face turned up to me, glowing in the light of the moon, just like so many nights from last summer.

  When I realized I was wrong, the guilt flooded in. Jude was standing below my window, offering a sad smile as he waved for me to come meet him.

  I held a finger in the air, then took a deep breath, reminding myself as I swept down the back staircase and through the kitchen that I had nothing to feel mixed up about. The past was just that: the past.

  “I had to see you,” Jude said. He stood there, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans, swaying back and forth. Exactly how much had he had to drink?