Copycat

by Hannah Jayne

  “And ex-girlfriends? I don’t think so.”

  Maya held up her hands. “I’m just floating theories based on the myriad of misinformation being disseminated by unreliable sources through my phone.”

  “Your parents must be so proud.”

  “Come on. I’ll drop you off on my way to work.”

  Addie stopped, seized by a memory.

  The halls were empty, and Addie preferred it that way. The Hawthorne High campus was huge—building after nondescript building mirrored each other, all routed through with linoleum-filled halls that always smelled strongly of lemon and faintly of vomit. Between classes the halls were shoulder to shoulder with students, most of them spilling into the breezeways and quads. The whole thing made Addie vaguely claustrophobic, so she tried to time her bathroom runs during class time. It annoyed her teachers but kept her mildly sane.

  Addie pushed through the ladies’ room door and was immediately hit with the pungent scent of bleach and cheap perfume, the whirl of the overhead fan a monstrous growl above her, so strong that she almost didn’t hear the whimpering.

  All the stall doors were standing open and there was no one in the room.

  “Hello?” she asked.

  The whimpering stopped. Addie stopped, waited. The slight sound of a sniffle. She locked herself into one of the stalls, peed as quickly as possible, and stepped out, coming face-to-face with Lydia Stevenson.

  “Oh.” Addie licked her lips. “Hi. Sorry. I was just…” She looked around. “Peeing.”

  Lydia nodded, using her two pinkie fingers to wipe at her eyes. “I was just…” She bit her lip, then smiled thinly. “Crying like an idiot.”

  Addie didn’t know what to do. “I’m sorry…should I go?”

  Lydia shook her head, her long blond hair bobbing around her shoulders. “No, you have every right.” Addie could tell the girl was trying to smile, was trying to force down the next wave of tears. Instinctively, Addie threw her arms around Lydia, engulfing her in a light hug.

  “It’s okay,” she said quickly. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

  Lydia stiffened for a half beat, shocked. When Addie went to straighten, she fell against her, her body racking in a fresh round of sobs. Addie stood there, rocking the most popular girl in school in her arms in the school bathroom, lightly patting her back and whispering, “shh.”

  She stood there until Lydia’s sobs subsided, until she stepped away. Lydia smiled again, this one small and sheepish, her lipstick smeared, the edges of her nose a deep red. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, rimmed heavily with sleep and running mascara. Addie couldn’t be certain but it looked like the puffiness and the bags went beyond an afternoon cry session.

  “Are you okay, Lydia?”

  Lydia waved at Addie, swallowed hard, then used both hands to gather her long hair into a ponytail. It was then that Addie could see the bruise on the underside of Lydia’s bicep: a purple, pocked U shape. Lydia caught her staring and dropped her arms abruptly to her sides.

  “I’m on my period,” she said, shaking her head. “Everything either makes me cry or makes me super mad, you know?”

  Addie nodded, pretending to understand while Lydia went to the sink, turned on the tap, and splashed water on her face. She glanced at her expression in the mirror and actually laughed, a high-pitched, tinkling sound that sounded wrong in Addie’s ears, that looked wrong when matched with the red-nosed girl in the mirror. Lydia flicked the water from her hands, straightened what was left of her eyeliner with her pinkies, and spun to face Addie, holding out a hand with a single pinkie finger extended.

  “Our little secret. Okay, Madison?”

  Addie looked at the finger, at Lydia. “It’s Addison.”

  Lydia’s finger was still extended, her eyes glossy and glassy, staring right through Addison as if she wasn’t even there, but she didn’t budge. Finally Addie extended her own hand, hooked Lydia’s pinkie.

  “I guess,” she said.

  Ten

  Maya sat back on Addie’s bed, pulling a brush slowly through her glossy black hair.

  Addie chewed the inside of her lip, pacing a bald spot in the carpet.

  “Earth to Addison Gaines…”

  “I have to tell you something.”

  Maya’s eyes widened, and she waggled her eyebrows. “Big Wall Street secrets from your dad? You know I can’t be trusted with money secrets.”

  “It’s about Lydia Stevenson.”

  Maya’s eyes cut across the bedroom, but she shrugged.

  “Another theory? Shoot.”

  “I saw her in the bathroom about two weeks ago. She was crying. And she had”—Addie pulled up her arm, exposing the soft pale flesh and patting it gently—“a bite mark, right here.”

  “Are you sure that’s what it was? I mean, it could have been…”

  Addie shook her head, worried her bottom lip. “It was a U shape and it looked like little bubbles—like teeth. And if not teeth, then I suppose it could have been finger marks, but isn’t that just as bad? Someone gripped her hard enough to leave a mark? Or bit her?”

  “You don’t know for sure what it was.”

  “It looked like a bite mark, Maya. It looked like someone deliberately hurt her. And she was crying. What if whoever hurt her is the one who killed her?”

  Maya paused for a beat, smoothing her ponytail. “Are you sure that’s what it was? A bite mark?”

  Addie looked away, tried to picture the mark on Lydia’s arm. She had seen it for just a second—just a flash. Maybe she was wrong…? But then she saw the flit of something that went through Lydia’s eyes: embarrassment, fear?

  “I think someone was hurting her, Maya.”

  “I hate to tell you, but that’s not looking any better for your boy, Spencer.”

  Addie narrowed her eyes. “He’s not my boy. And you’re being way too flippant.”

  “Or you’re being overdramatic and a little bit pervy, staring at Lydia Stevenson’s limbs.”

  “There was something on her wrist too.”

  Maya put her hands on her hips and yawned. “What?”

  Addie nodded, thinking. “No, she definitely had a mark on her wrist too. I thought it was just a smudge of something, ink or something, but there was a definite bruise on her wrist.”

  Maya blew out a sigh. “Like she was handcuffed or something?”

  “No.” Addie clamped a hand over Maya’s bony wrist, gripping her hard. “Like maybe someone just did this.”

  Maya’s eyes flashed and she yanked her arm free, rubbing her fingertips along her wrist. “That hurt, you ass.”

  “So do you believe me?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Maya!”

  “Addie, Lydia had a little bruise on her arm and another one on her wrist. On any given day I’ve got bruises halfway down my body and I have no idea how they got there. I walk into things. I’m clumsy. Maybe Lydia was too.”

  “But you weren’t crying in a bathroom, Maya. You didn’t swear me to secrecy. It’s weird. Hey—do you know why she and Spencer broke up?”

  Maya shook her head. “They both just kept saying it was ‘mutual.’” She made air quotes.

  “Why the quotes?”

  “No breakup is mutual.”

  “What if there was someone else?”

  Maya shrugged. “What if?”

  “No, Maya, really. What if they broke up because Lydia was seeing someone else? And maybe that was the person who was hurting her? I mean, Spencer wouldn’t want it to get out that Lydia may have been cheating on him, so he would float the whole ‘it was mutual’ story.”

  “Or, Lydia could have cheated on Spencer, and Spencer caught her, which is why he bruised up her arm and bit her or whatever, and then he stalked her and finally killed her. Sorry, Adds, I’m not really seeing th
is work out in Spencer’s favor.”

  Addie sucked in a deep breath. “Don’t you think I could be just a little bit on to something?”

  Maya crossed her arms in front of her chest and shook her head, lips pulled down in a grimace. “I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

  “Please just mention it to your dad, okay?”

  Maya eyed Addie but eventually nodded. “I will, and when he tells me it’s nothing you’ll let it go, okay? Spencer, the bruise, Lydia’s abusive mystery man?”

  Addie wanted to dismiss it, wanted to believe that Maya was probably right. But there was something in Lydia’s eyes—it was only there for a fleeting second, but it was there: a haunted look. A desperate look. And now Lydia Stevenson was dead.

  Eleven

  Addie and her father sat in the waiting room of the Crescent City Police Department. Morton Gaines was all business in a pressed gray sport jacket and a pale blue button-down with the collar open. He looked relaxed as he smiled and nodded to the officers who buzzed around the front vestibule.

  Addie was another matter.

  When she had woken that morning, she had stared into her closet for a good thirty minutes. What did one wear to a police interview?

  For Addie, it wasn’t her first. The first time, she was thirteen and had worn a stiff wool dress even though it was summer and a thousand degrees outside. She had worn white tights and black shoes and nodded silently when the police officers asked her questions about her father, about the speed of the car—questions that she couldn’t answer. She was a child then, shaking on the bench while her father looked cool, and she was a young adult now—but she didn’t feel any more confident.

  “Addison?”

  Maya’s father was the same height as Addie’s, but his shoulder span was a full inch wider and the stern set of his jaw put Addie on edge. Usually, she loved hanging out at Maya’s house, loved when Detective Garcia would come home and tie on an apron and give Maya lessons on making something like his signature enchiladas. It grossed Maya out supremely, but Addie loved everything about it. Today, in the police department, Maya’s dad was gone and Detective Garcia—stern, unsmiling—took his place. He was wearing dark pants and a white button-down shirt, his Crescent City detective badge slung on a leather cord around his neck. Addie sucked in a breath when he turned, his leather holster and gun at the ready.

  “I’m here,” Addie said, standing, then feeling immediately stupid. “I mean, ready.”

  Her father stood next to her, putting out a hand for the detective. “I’m sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances, Roger.”

  Detective Garcia shook Morton Gaines’s hand, nodded curtly, and offered Addie a smile that was meant to be reassuring, but that just put her more on edge. For the first time that she could remember, Detective Garcia seemed to stare Addie down.

  “These are just routine questions, correct, Detective? I mean, I don’t need my lawyer present or anything…” Addie’s father’s voice was spun sugar, but it made her stomach churn.

  A lawyer?

  “I’m not—I’m not in trouble or anything, right?”

  Detective Garcia shook his head, waved his arm dismissively. “No, of course not. I just wanted to get Addie’s statement in a more official capacity.”

  Addie’s tongue went heavy in her mouth as she followed the detective and her father into a claustrophobia-inducing room on the second floor of the police station.

  “Now, Addie, I don’t want you to worry about anything. You’re not in any trouble. We’re just going to take your statement about exactly what you saw on Friday night.”

  She licked her Sahara-dry lips. “I already talked to the officer who was there.”

  Detective Garcia offered Addie and her father a seat and shuffled some papers. “Yep, I have your statement right here. Let’s just go over it, shall we?”

  There was a beat of silence. The temperature in the room seemed to ratchet up ten degrees, and Addie picked at her T-shirt.

  “Do you want me to start?”

  “Just tell me what you saw that night, okay?”

  Addie cleared her throat, looked at her father and then at the detective, and repeated the whole story. Detective Garcia would look from her to the papers in his hand and back again, bobbing his head kindly.

  “Uh-huh, and it says here you mentioned someone named R. J. Rosen?”

  “Is that someone from your school, honey?”

  Embarrassment burned Addie’s cheeks and she shook her head. “No. R. J. Rosen is an author. He writes the Gap Lake books.”

  “And why did you bring him up, Addison?”

  She swallowed, glancing at her father, who nodded encouragingly. “It just—the night was weird. It was like out of a book. It was like out of one of the Gap Lake mysteries, and I just mentioned that.”

  Detective Garcia nodded his hand, scrawled something down on a piece of paper. His expression didn’t change. “Is that everything?”

  No, Addie wanted to say. It’s not. But what could she say? Her favorite author had sent her a story and it read just like the murder scene?

  She paused, worrying her bottom lip. “Something you want to say, Addison?” her father asked.

  Addie shifted her weight. “What if—is it possible that someone wanted to make this look like a murder from a book?”

  Detective Gaines stared Addie down but seemed to be considering. “Like acting something out?” he asked finally.

  “Like that,” Addie said, her heart thundering in her chest. “Or like a copycat.”

  Detective Garcia and Addie’s father shared a look over Addie’s head, the detective’s lips quirking up in a half smile. “It’s possible you read too many books, Addie.”

  Addie followed her father down the steps and through the waiting room where Colton was sitting on one of the hard plastic chairs, staring straight ahead. His palms were on his knees, knuckles white. His eyes flicked to Addie when she walked through and she tried to offer a smile, but her lips were so dry she was sure they would crack. Instead, she offered him a half wave that he didn’t return.

  She wasn’t supposed to see her friends at the police station.

  She wasn’t supposed to be questioned about a murder.

  Addie grabbed her cell phone to talk to Maya but there was already a message there.

  TheRealRJRosen:

  And so the story begins…

  Twelve

  “I feel weird about this, don’t you?” Addie asked, shifting the blanket she was carrying from one hip to the other.

  Maya shrugged. “I guess, but life—”

  “Don’t say ‘imitates art.’”

  “I wasn’t going to. I was going to say life goes on. I mean, it’s really terrible about what happened to Lydia but…what are we supposed to do? Stay cooped up until we graduate? It’s not like there’s a curfew or anything, and it’s not like anything is going to happen out here. We’re at the boardwalk about to watch a movie so, A, no place to hide and B, look around you. Everyone in school is here.”

  Maya was right. The entire cracked parking lot of the boardwalk was clogged with cars, the majority of them bearing Hawthorne High parking passes or Fighting Hornet stickers.

  “There’s Colton. Let’s go over there.”

  Addie followed Maya, who immediately melded into a group of teenagers. Before the song blasting out of someone’s car stereo changed, the blanket Addie was carrying was spread on the sand, and Addie was handed a red plastic cup filled with cheap beer. The scent alone turned her stomach, but she held it anyway, grateful to have something to do with her hands.

  Maya was right; the entire student body of Hawthorne High spilled off the boardwalk and littered the beach. The police force wasn’t there, but Addie could see a squad car with its low beams on parked at the top of one of the sand dunes,
and she surreptitiously tipped her Solo cup over and dribbled half her beer into the sand.

  “Watering the sand?” Spencer asked, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips.

  Addie startled and tucked her cup behind her back. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were here.”

  He shrugged, his gaze sweeping over the dunes. “I guess I’m kind of keeping a low profile.”

  “Are you…are you okay?”

  There was a long pause that Addie wanted to fill with mindless blather, but she held back. Spencer kicked at the wet ring in the sand from Addie’s beer. “I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel.”

  Addie nodded because there wasn’t anything else to say. Then, “I—I know you’re innocent.”

  Color flushed Spencer’s cheeks. “Thanks?”

  “I mean—I just know there were rumors. I didn’t believe them though.”

  Spencer nodded. “They were just rumors. The police questioned me, but I don’t know anything.” His voice caught and Addie looked up, blinked through the darkness. Spencer’s eye were glistening like he was holding back tears. “I wish I knew something. The truth was…Lydia and I had barely talked in weeks.” He cleared his throat. “She had already moved on.”

  Addie straightened. “She had a new boyfriend?”

  Spencer dug his hands in his pockets and cocked his head. “I think she had one before we broke up.”

  There were rumors that Crystal Lanier was cheating on Declan Levy and that’s why he killed her, Addie thought. She shook herself. That was a book. This was real life. “Do you want the rest of my beer?”

  He offered a shy little half smile that did something to Addie. Her heartbeat sped up. Her breathing slowed—but this time, it was a good thing.

  “No thanks. I hate that stuff.”

  “You prefer something harder?”

  Spencer shook his head. “I guess. 7 UP is hard, right?”

  Addie wrinkled her brow. “You don’t drink? Like, at all?”