Jude shook his head, then ran a hand through his hair. “I honestly don’t know. As soon as I pointed her out, they took me back to the farm. They said something about preserving the scene, but I think they knew I needed to get away from her.”
“That had to be awful. Knowing Leena was dead when everyone else was still—”
“Look, I don’t want to talk about any of that.” Jude turned his face toward me, his eyes red and glossy. I wondered if he’d gotten any sleep since finding Leena. I barely had.
“I thought that’s why you asked me to come out here with you.” I ran my fingers across his face, feeling the prickle of stubble against my skin. “I thought you were ready to talk about finding Leena.”
Jude took a deep breath, turning to face the pond before he spoke again. “I asked you out here to talk about us.”
“Us?” I asked. “Why?”
“Maybe I’m losing it. I just—”
“You’re not. Finding Leena has to be one of the—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Jude said, his voice suddenly stronger. “I’m talking about us, Bailey. You and me.”
Jude looped the strand of grass around itself one more time, pulling the knot so tight, the stalk snapped in half. He balled the blade of grass up and tossed it into the pond, sending a ripple across the water. “Something’s going on. I can feel it. But I have no idea what it is. Will you please clue me in?”
I sat there, my lips parted. There was so much I couldn’t share. My mind whirled trying to come up with a single thing I could.
“You’ve been blowing me off, Bailey. You ignored all of my texts the night I found Leena. Last night, I left you three messages but you didn’t call me back. You’ve been distant. I know you’re dealing with something with Tripp, but I don’t get why—”
“This whole thing with Tripp is a mess,” I said, latching onto the lie.
“So talk to me.” Jude put his hand on my knee and squeezed. “It’s what we do, right?”
“This time is different, Jude. I want to. But I can’t.”
“It’s that bad? I mean, this is me.”
I thought about that. I had almost told Jude all about the scavenger hunt the night he’d found Leena, as we lay together in the hammock, but then he’d brought up Wes, and . . . I looked at Jude now, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, and I almost spilled everything again.
But then I thought about the girls. The person behind the scavenger hunt had proven he would follow through with his threats. In a way, he was who I could trust the most. I knew exactly what he was capable of, and that meant telling Jude was a risk I couldn’t take.
“I will tell you,” I said. “I’ll tell you everything. Just not now.”
“When?” Jude’s voice was a whisper, but the pain broke through, hitting me deep in the chest.
“Soon. I’ll tell you as soon as I can.”
“You promise?” Jude asked.
I didn’t have the chance to respond. A voice interrupted the balance that had settled between us.
“Bailey!”
“Who is that?” Jude asked.
I shook my head, pretending I had no idea, but that was another lie. I knew who it was before I even understood he was calling my name.
“Bailey!” he called again, closer now. So close I could hear his feet pounding the dusty trail.
“We’re not finished,” Jude said. “There’s a lot more to say and—”
“Bailey!”
I turned just in time to see him round the bend of the trail, his hand reaching up to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun.
“Wes,” I said, the word catching in my throat.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” he asked, striding toward me.
“I’m talking with Jude.”
“I see that.” Wes pulled back his shoulders as he towered over us. “I meant what are you doing here? Where Leena Grabman’s body was found just two days ago?”
“Give her a break, dude,” Jude said, standing and swiping the grass from the butt of his shorts. I stood, too, focused on diffusing the situation. “I stopped at the house and asked her to join me.”
“It figures this was your genius idea.” Wes shook his head.
“This place is a memorial now.” Jude stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “Her parents said it would be okay. What’s your problem, dude?”
“Nothing.” Wes looked at me. “It freaked me out when I couldn’t find you.”
“Well, she’s fine, so you can go now.” Jude’s tone was harder than I had ever heard it.
“Problem is,” Wes said, “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Jude slipped between Wes and me. I pulled him back, suddenly worried about where this whole scene might be heading.
“Long story, dude.” Wes shrugged. “Bailey, you need to come with me.”
Jude smiled, like he knew a secret that would throw Wes way off balance. “Bailey’s not going anywhere with you.”
“He’s right,” I said, putting a hand on Jude’s shoulder. “I said I’d meet you and Tripp later, so why don’t you just—”
“Uh-uh.” Wes shook his head. “Now.”
“No.” The word was as hard and cold.
“I got a phone call,” Wes said. “We’ve got to go.”
“No way,” Jude said. “I don’t trust you, man. She’s not going anywhere without me.”
“Bailey’s a big girl.” Wes thrust his chin into the air. “Why don’t we let her decide?”
I tried to think how to explain to Jude why I had to leave when he needed me, but seeing him look at me, the lines creasing the skin around his eyes, I knew nothing I could say would be good enough.
“That’s it, then?” Jude asked. “You’re just going to go with him?”
“I don’t have any choice,” I said, placing my hand on his arm. “This is life or death important.”
Jude sighed, rolling his eyes toward the sky. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to add pressure. It’s just been really hard for me since I found Leena. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do half the time, and—”
“Don’t worry,” I said, curling my fingers around his wrist and squeezing tight. “We’re all a mess. And this will be over soon. I promise, I’ll tell you everything. Just give me a few more days.” I kissed him on the cheek and twisted away, keeping as much distance between Wes and me as I could.
Neither of us spoke until we were halfway to my house.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m not really sure anymore,” I said. “How’d you know where I was?”
Wes shrugged. “I’ve been watching. Just to make sure you’re safe.”
“So, you’re, stalking me?”
Wes laughed, the sound so real and easy it caught me off guard. “You wish.”
“Shut up.” I looked away. “Did you even get a phone call?”
“Yup.”
“From who?”
“Owen O’Brien. He has an update.”
“He found something on the footage from school?”
“He found something. But not from the security footage.” Wes sighed. “The camera we took from the cave last night? It was BHS property. And there was a video saved to the memory card. I wanted him to analyze the file before I—”
“Tell me,” I urged. “I want to know everything.”
“That,” Wes said, “is exactly why we’re going to Owen’s house. He’s expecting us in ten minutes.”
CHAPTER 27
12:07 PM
“You brought the latest clue?” Wes asked, turning onto Main Street, O’Brien’s purple-gray house coming into view.
“I have all of them in my purse.” A breeze trailed into the car, tossing my hair around my face. “I’m too afraid to leave them anywhere.”
“I want to read it.” Wes pulled up in front of the house. “But later. We’ve gotta get in there.”
“Only thing you really need to know is that we’re
supposed to be at Cold Stone at eight o’clock tonight.” I said. “Where’s Tripp? I figured he was meeting us here.”
“Nah. He’s chasing some other lead.” Wes pushed his door open and stepped into the street, turning back to look at me. “He said he had an idea about how to get you out of this, but he wouldn’t tell me until he knew it would work.”
“That doesn’t sound very promising,” I said as I hopped out of the car.
“Don’t be so negative. Together, the four of us can outplay whoever’s behind this.”
“Forgive me if I’m not convinced.” I followed Wes up the porch steps. “And we might be down to three. Hannah’s only answered one of my texts so far today.”
Wes stopped. “That doesn’t sound like her.”
“I know. I’m trying not to worry.” I checked my phone again. Nothing except a text from Jude—one single red heart and the word sorry. “I think last night might have been too much for her. Can’t say I blame her for being spooked.”
“Well, she only has a few hours to pull her shit together. Tripp said he’s going to need us all tonight if his plan’s going to work.” Wes pushed the doorbell and stepped back to my side.
“I texted her earlier, so she knows where to meet us,” I said. “She’ll be there. I think she just needs a pep talk. And maybe a few scoops of ice cream.”
We heard a muffled voice calling from inside the house, “Door’s open. C’mon in.”
As we stepped inside, Wes gave me a little wink. Dredging up our history last night, calling him out as one of my primary suspects—it hadn’t even phased him. Wes was still Wes.
I stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind me, following Wes into the living room. His sky blue T-shirt rippled against his back.
“’Sup, dude?” Wes stepped to the coffee table, holding a fist out toward Owen’s roommate, Bryce Winters who, it seemed, lived on the ratty old couch planted in front of the bay window.
Bryce bumped Wes’s fist and leaned back against the couch. “How you been, man?”
“Good,” Wes said. “I just dropped by to see Owen. Is he in his room?”
“Yeah.” Bryce smirked. “But you’d better knock first. He’s got company.”
My stomach turned, thinking about who might be in Owen’s room and what they might be doing, but I had to see the new video Wes was being so mysterious about. I held my breath as I followed Wes past the card table and all the way down the hall, keeping my lips pressed together as he knocked on the door. Owen called us in from the other side.
“Bro,” Owen said as we stepped into the wood-paneled room. “Glad you’re here.”
Owen was seated at his computer, his hair a mess. Just behind him, perched on nest of blankets tangled up on his bed, sat Sylvie Warner. She was wrapped in a towel, little pearls of water dripping from her white-blonde curls, her eyes focused beyond her knees, which she had tucked against her chest as she painted her toenails a deep shade of red.
“You said you found something?” Wes asked.
“Did he ever.” Sylvie lifted her eyes from her paint job as she dipped the little brush back in its bottle. “Hey, B.”
“Hey,” I said, lifting my eyebrows. “I didn’t know you and Owen were . . . friends.”
“I’ve known him for years.” Sylvie flashed me a smile, then dropped her eyes to her toes and started painting them again. “But we just started hanging out.”
“Interesting,” I said.
“So I went through the entire video, frame-by-frame,” Owen said, “making adjustments to the lighting, clarifying a few background images, shit like that. It took hours—”
“That’s an understatement,” Sylvie said. “He was up most of the night. But it paid off.”
“One thing I can tell you, this is genuine, uncut footage,” Owen said. “It wasn’t spliced. What you see is what you get.”
“Fair warning—you’re not going to like what you see.” Sylvie scrunched up her nose. “I know I didn’t.”
“Why?” I asked. “What—”
“Check it out.” Owen swiveled the computer monitor so it was facing Wes and me. He clicked a little arrow, and the footage began to play.
I could tell two things from the first three seconds of video: the clip had been shot in the atrium at BHS, and the person speaking, hidden behind the camera, had a voice that was velvety soft and oh-so-familiar.
Jude.
My heart felt like it was about to explode.
“I never liked blood,” Jude said as he stepped toward a line that extended from the perimeter of the atrium. A crowd milled around him, extending beyond the camera’s view. “This is a good cause, though. So I did what I had to do.”
I started to wonder if maybe it wasn’t Jude, if it was just someone who sounded like him. But then a junior named Kevin something-or-other rushed the camera’s lens, holding his hand up for a fist bump as he said, “Juuuuude!”
The single word dashed all of my hopes.
“That was the first thing you needed to see.” Sylvie pointed at the screen with the nail polish brush. “Just wait ’til you see what comes next.”
Owen fast-forwarded until Jude stepped up to a long table situated along the back wall of the atrium. From her seat behind the table, Sylvie looked up at us, her smile wide and convincing, as she held out a round sticker that said I GAVE BLOOD. WILL YOU? with the American Red Cross logo centered beneath the text.
“You survived?” Sylvie asked from the screen.
“’Course I did,” Jude said. “I’m badass.”
On-screen, Sylvie tipped her head back, laughing, her eyes all flirty-girl as she licked her lips and leaned forward, pushing her arms against the sides of her chest until she practically popped out of the V-neck sweater she was wearing.
That’s where the text usually came in, fading onto the screen in small caps. But this footage had been shot before the text was added.
“You were flirting,” I said. “Shamelessly. With my boyfriend.”
“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on right now?” Sylvie asked, snorting.
The video continued, past Sylvie’s goodbye wink, all the way to the glass doors leading to the student lot. The footage ended then, the camera catching Jude’s reflection. He’d been wearing his favorite OSU baseball hat and a Rolling Stones T-shirt that I’d seen him in a thousand times.
“So,” I said, blinking hard, tears stinging my eyes, “there’s obviously an explanation.”
“I don’t know about that.” Sylvie twisted the cap onto the bottle and scooted off the edge of the bed. She stepped beside me, the scent of nail polish twining around us. “But one thing I can tell you for sure is that I remember that day now.”
I looked back to the reflection in that glass door, my eyes locking on a face that I had come to know as well as my own. Jude had created that awful Bakersville Dozen video . . .
“I remember him, Bailey. Jude and the camera. The way I was flirting. And the way he was flirting right back.”
“Why didn’t it hit you before now?” I asked. “With all the time the thirteen of us spent going over the video, Jude just slipped your mind?”
“Memory is a tricky thing, B.” Sylvie shrugged again. “Besides, I was trying to remember a monster, not one of our classmates. A monster using his phone to record me—that’s usually how it’s done these days . . . Jude was using the video setting on a digital camera from photography class. Obviously—”
“Oh my God.” I stepped back, bumping into Wes. His hands gripped my arms. Staring right at her, my mind ticked forward slowly. None of this felt right. “You’re in on this, aren’t you?”
“Please, Bailey.” Sylvie laughed, tipping her chin up, all those glossy curls spilling down her back. “Get a grip.”
“I saw the footage of you stealing the tiara. You took it, not Jude. You planted it on her body, too, didn’t you?”
Sylvie’s head dipped to one side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.
”
I looked at Owen. “Show her,” I said. “Show her the surveillance video from the atrium, of her taking the tiara out of the display case.”
“About that,” Owen said. “The video was compromised.”
“Compromised?” Wes asked. “Or erased?”
“Are both of you in on this?” I asked, stepping back, pressing myself against Wes. “Because the way I see it, Jude shooting a video is way less damning than seeing that tiara in your hands an hour before it landed on Leena’s head.”
Sylvie narrowed her eyes at me. “An hour before it landed on her head? Jude didn’t find Leena until—”
“The day before.” Wes’s hands squeezed my arms. “She meant the day before.”
“Right,” Sylvie said, rolling her eyes. “Of course she did. Look, the bottom line about the surveillance footage is simple: no one’s going to nail me for something I didn’t do. I have no idea what happened to that tiara after I took it to the girls’ locker room.”
“Yet you’re taking drastic measures to cover the whole thing up. I saw you yesterday,” I said. “You and Owen. In the woods.”
Sylvie sighed, her eyes flicking to Owen and back to me again. “I had to cover my bases, right? I mean, I didn’t even know the tiara was with Leena until your precious little Jude found her body and started talking. When I saw Owen standing with Tripp and Wes at the memorial, it clicked. He was the only way you could have seen that footage. So I did what I had to do to take care of it.”
“Screwing a computer geek so he’ll erase damning evidence in a murder investigation?” I shook my head. “I thought you were better than that, Sylvie.”
“No you didn’t.” Sylvie rolled her eyes. “To be clear, I’m trying to keep myself safe. Just like you’ve been trying to do.”
“So, are you going to defend my honor?” Owen leaned back in his computer chair, smirking up at Sylvie. “Tell her I’m not a geek?”
“He’s not a geek.” Sylvie stepped up behind Owen and ran her fingers through his hair. “He’s a total stallion, if you know what I mean.”
“That video doesn’t mean anything,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as anyone else in the room.
The Bakersville Dozen Page 17