“Holy shit!”
“Oh my God!”
A sob. A whimper.
It probably only took twenty seconds for the others to emerge from their rooms, but it felt more like twenty minutes to Meg. She was vaguely aware of the gasps and cries around her. Meg could feel the growing presence of people even though she couldn’t see them. She couldn’t see anything other than the eyes staring lifelessly at her.
It wasn’t until Meg felt a hand on her shoulder that she could move again, blink again.
“Are you okay?” T.J. said. His arm slipped down to her waist and she let her body sag into it. She found his eyes—eyes that could feel and sense and see. She began to tremble.
“Yeah.”
“Liar.” He picked up the comforter and hauled it over her shoulders.
“What happened?” Kumiko’s voice was high and pinched. “What the fuck happened?”
Vivian stood with her back to the body, refusing to look at it. “You were her roommate. Did she say anything?” Any trace of her emotional outburst from the night before had vanished, and the old, harsh Vivian was back.
Kumiko shook her head. “She was already in bed when I got up here last night. I thought she’d passed out.”
“You didn’t hear her get out of bed?”
“I …” Kumiko glanced at Gunner. “I didn’t sleep there.”
Vivian clicked her tongue. “Well, that’s just perfect.”
“Hey,” Kumiko barked, getting up in Vivian’s face. “I’m not her mom. How was I supposed to know she was that far over the edge?”
“We need to call the police,” T.J. said.
“There’s a phone in my room.” Vivian spun around and disappeared into the master bedroom.
“Where did she get the rope?” Ben said. He stuck his head into the stairwell and gazed up to the roof beams of the tower. “And how did she get it strung up there?”
“Why are you guys yelling? I was trying to sl—”
Meg registered Minnie’s voice and looked up in time to see her friend descend the stairs from the garret. Minnie stopped dead in her tracks on the second-to-last step, one hand brushing her light blonde hair away from her face while the other clutched Meg’s hooded sweatshirt around her chest. Meg could see the realization of the scene dawn on her, as Minnie’s eyes traveled from the body up the rope to the wooden beams of the tower, and back down.
Ben pushed past Meg and T.J. and sprinted up the stairs toward Minnie. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out as her body crumpled into unconsciousness. Ben caught her just in time.
“She’s okay,” he said, lowering Minnie’s body to the stairs. “Just fainted.”
Meg wanted to go to her. But she couldn’t move, wouldn’t move. Not with T.J.’s arm around her.
“Dude,” T.J. said, motioning to Gunner. “See if there’s a note or something?”
It took Gunner a moment to process, then in typical wordless Gunner fashion, he disappeared into Lori’s room. His hand brushed against Kumiko’s arm as he passed her. She paused for half a second, then followed him inside.
“You’re still trembling,” T.J. whispered, his mouth just inches from her own. “Can I do anything?”
Meg caught her breath. T.J. was so close to her, as if he wanted to protect her. It was a new sensation for Meg, who spent most of her time trying to protect her best friend from the things in the world that might trigger her crippling anxiety and bipolar disorder. And now here was T.J. looking out for her for once.
“Fine,” she said, not sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. “I’m fine.”
“The phone doesn’t work,” Vivian said. She sounded slightly out of breath.
Nathan folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “That’s not good.”
“Wha … what happened?” Minnie said. Her voice sounded weak.
Ben propped her up. “You fainted.”
“I did?” Minnie sat up and looked past the body, finding Meg on the landing below. “Why?”
Meg opened her mouth to respond but she literally had no words. Thankfully, Minnie would have plenty, and Meg cringed as she watched Minnie’s eyes find the dangling body and the horror of it came rushing over her once again.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Minnie’s voice crescendoed with each repetition. She pointed a shaky hand down at Lori. “She’s dead. It’s a dead body. Oh my God. What do we do? How do we … I mean …”
Meg could hear the panic in her voice and prayed Minnie had actually packed her medications. If she didn’t, this would not end well.
“Don’t look,” Ben said, trying to guide Minnie away from the railing. But it was too late.
“Get it out! Get it away from me!” Minnie screamed. She looked right at Meg, as if she could make it all go away.
“She’s not an it!” Kenny roared. Meg turned and saw him standing in the doorway of his room, tree trunk–sized arms folded across his chest, brows low over his eyes. He’d been quiet the whole time, but suddenly he just exploded. His face was a deep shade of red, and he was shaking from head to toe.
“Of course not,” T.J. said calmly. “She didn’t mean it. She’s just freaked.”
Freaked was an understatement. Meg recognized a panic attack when she saw one. She snapped into caretaker mode, attempting to stem the tide. “Minnie, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not,” Minnie sobbed. “It’s not, it’s not.”
“What’s wrong with her?” T.J. whispered in Meg’s ear.
“Panic attack,” Meg said out of the corner of her mouth. “She needs her meds.” Then she started up the stairs. “Come on. I’ll get your Klonopin.”
“It’s okay, I’ll take her,” Ben said, taking Minnie’s hand. He looked at her and smiled. “Do you know where it is?”
Minnie nodded slightly and they disappeared up the stairs to the garret.
Meg turned back to T.J. and caught a look of confusion on his face. “Does that happen a lot?” he asked softly.
Meg bit her lip. She’d kept Minnie’s secret for so long she didn’t quite know what to say. “Um …”
She was saved by Kumiko, who slowly emerged from the bedroom, Gunner close behind. She gripped a lined piece of paper in her hands and as she spoke, it was clear that she was trying in vain to control the tremor in her voice. “We found it. We found her suicide note.”
“Dude, really?” Nathan said.
Kumiko held the page up, shielding her face. It was written on strange paper with groups of parallel lines running across it. It took Meg a moment to recognize what it was—sheet music.
“C-can’t deal,” Kumiko read aloud. Her hand shook. “I should just end it all now. This voice will never sing again.”
Silence. Meg stared at the blue and gold runner that carpeted the second floor hallway. It wasn’t a particularly interesting rug, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at anyone. Maybe if she stood there long enough trying to forget what had happened, it would just go away? Maybe she’d wake up and discover this was all a horrible beer-induced dream?
Creeeeeeeak.
Meg’s eyes involuntarily flitted toward the body. She couldn’t help it.
“I don’t believe it.” Kenny’s voice was strong and defiant, and clearly calmer than he’d been a minute ago. But his eyes and face were drawn, his jaw hard and defiant.
“Kenny,” T.J. started. “I’m so sor—”
“I don’t believe it,” Kenny repeated. He stared straight at Lori’s body, unblinking, unflinching. “She didn’t kill herself.”
“Dude,” Nathan said, putting a hand on his friend’s arm. “Dude, I think it’s pretty clear—”
“She. Didn’t. Kill. Herself,” Kenny repeated. Then he turned on his heel, pushed past Nathan into their room, and slammed the door behind him.
“Kenny!” Nathan followed Kenny into the room. “Dude, I didn’t mean …”
His voice trailed off as he shut t
he door behind him. Poor Kenny. Meg remembered him whispering into Lori’s ear before dinner, and the blush that spread across Lori’s face. She had been watching two people fall for each other, and now Lori was dead and Kenny was in shock. It seemed so … pointless.
Creeeeeeak.
That sound was starting to make Meg nauseous.
“Okay,” T.J. said. He gave Meg’s shoulder a squeeze and walked to the center of the balcony, his back to Lori’s body. “We need to find a phone that works and call the police.”
“On it.” Gunner grabbed Kumiko’s hand and half dragged her down the stairs.
“There’s one in the study,” Vivian called after them. She paused a moment, then ran lightly into her room and emerged pulling on an oversized sweater over her pajamas. “Better go with them,” she said to no one in particular. “Just in case.”
T.J. and Meg stood alone on the second-floor landing. Everyone else seemed to have a purpose—Ben was taking care of Minnie, Nathan was trying to calm Kenny down, and Kumiko, Gunner, and Vivian were calling the police. Meg felt like she should be doing something. Helping. Not just standing there like an idiot yearning for the strong arms of T. J. Fletcher to wrap themselves around her again.
Lori’s suicide note fluttered off the table where Kumiko had left it, drifting to the ground like it was light and airy, not a thing of sadness and pain. Meg had a sudden urge to see it and snatched it off the floor. The words of Lori’s suicide note were written on the back side of a page of music in all caps, but the handwriting didn’t look shaky or erratic. It was as if Lori had found calmness in her decision to take her own life. Meg flipped it over and looked at the musical notation. It was a song with piano accompaniment and lyrics.
“Weird,” she said.
“What?” T.J. peered over her shoulder at the sheet of music.
She read the lyrics out loud. “‘Sure on this shining night, I weep for wonder.’”
“Pretty.”
“‘Sure on this shining night,’” Meg repeated. Those lyrics rang a bell. “Wasn’t this the song playing on the video last night?”
T.J. cocked his head and stared at her. “You’re right. How did you catch that?”
“I … I don’t know.” Because I watch everyone all the time? Because I’m more comfortable observing than doing? Yeah, that’s not creepy.
“Writer.” T.J. smiled, exposing his deep-set dimples.
“No wonder she freaked out.” Meg remembered Lori’s face after the video ended. She looked scared, panicked almost. And the way she accused someone of making that video on purpose. It must have been a song she was rehearsing. Her reaction made perfect sense.
Meg stared at the sheet music. There was something odd about it, the music Lori chose for her suicide note. It didn’t sound like a sad song, a song of depression or longing or anything like that. Totally the opposite. “Weep for wonder” was more like crying from happiness and joy. Why would she choose that? Meg shook her head. It could have just been coincidence, the only paper in arm’s reach. Still, according to the endless lineup of crime-scene investigator dramas that filled up her TiVo, suicide notes were usually deliberate. So why would Lori choose that song? How could that lead to her body hanging in a stairwell …?
Meg squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the flurry of rods and cones would bleach the image of Lori’s face from her memory. No such luck.
“We need to take her down,” she said.
“I was thinking the same thing.” T.J. climbed halfway up the tower stairs and peered at the beams that supported the roof. “I’ll get the guys. I think we can lower her.”
“Good.”
T.J. smiled grimly. “I’m sorry you were the one to find her, Meg.”
Meg laughed, short and terse. “Better me than Minnie.”
“Are you always this protective of her?”
Meg bit her lip. She usually hid her enabling-codependent relationship with Minnie better than she had in the last twenty-four hours, and she was embarrassed that T.J. had witnessed as much of it as he did. “I have to be.”
T.J. descended the stairs to her. “Why? Why is that your responsibility? Do you really think she’d do the same for you?”
Meg couldn’t look him in the eye. He’d hit a little too close to home. “I—”
“Oh my God. Oh my God!” It was Vivian from downstairs.
Without a word, T.J. and Meg sprinted down the flight of stairs and found Vivian standing in the entryway, staring fixedly at the wall. All the color had drained out of her face. “Look.”
Meg slowly turned her head. On the crisp white wall next to the coat pegs was a huge slash mark in dripping red paint.
ELEVEN
“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”
“Is this some sort of joke?”
“Do you think Lori did it?”
“Shitty joke.”
Everyone spoke at once. Meg, however, heard every comment, clearly, distinctly. The world was moving in slow-motion around her. And though that world seemed to have descended into chaos, Meg felt oddly calm.
She took a step closer to the red slash mark. It had clearly been done with a brush; she could see texture in the thick red paint as it had dripped down the wall. It reminded her of the countdown in the video the night before, the numbers slashed through with animated red lines. Except now, it really did look like …
“Blood?” Nathan asked. “Do you think it’s blood?” He stood right behind Meg, peering over her shoulder at the mark on the wall as if he was using her as a shield. So macho.
“Doubtful,” she said, fighting the urge to ask him if he had, in fact, been raised by monkeys.
“How did it get there?” Kenny stood midway down the last flight of stairs, reluctant to get any closer to the mark on the wall.
Meg didn’t blame him.
T.J. stepped right up to it. “Looks like Rust-Oleum. Topside paint for boats.”
Nathan was unconvinced. “Still looks like blood to me.”
“Well, it’s not,” Vivian snapped. She turned to Gunner, who stood in the doorway of the study. “Did you call the police? What did they say? Are they sending a helicopter? How long? What are we supposed to do until then?”
Girl was getting twitchy, and Meg wondered if Minnie was going to have to share her Klonopin.
Gunner shook his head slowly. “Phones are out.”
“What?” Vivian said. Her voice cracked. The girl was wound tighter than a two-dollar watch.
“The phones,” Kumiko said slowly like she was speaking to a slightly stupid child, “are out.”
“Idiots.” Vivian pushed past Gunner into the study. “I’m sure they’re not out. They can’t be out.”
Meg rolled her eyes. Cue anxiety-driven meltdown in three … two …
“Must be the storm,” T.J. said with total calmness.
Kumiko ran a hand through her magenta-streaked hair. “Did anyone notice if they got a cell signal here?”
“I tried last night,” Meg said. “No coverage.”
“The closest tower’s in Roche Harbor,” T.J. said. “Too far.”
Vivian shuffled out of the study, deflated. “The phone’s out.”
Kumiko whirled on her. “Really? So the fact that we checked the receiver, checked the phone cord, checked the batteries, checked the receiver again … That wasn’t enough for you?”
Vivian shrugged. “I like to confirm the facts myself.”
“Awesome.” Kumiko walked right up to Vivian. “Then why don’t you confirm the fact of me kicking your ass.”
“Hey, hey,” Gunner said, pulling Kumiko back.
Vivian darted up the stairs. “Keep her away from me or I’ll press charges.”
“Oh, yeah?” Kumiko said, straining against Gunner’s arm. “Kind of hard when we have no way to call the police.”
The concept sunk in. Holy crap. What were they going to do? No phones, no cells, no internet … A memory stirred. Something she remembered seeing in the living room. A coiled y
ellow cord tucked into the footboard of a bookcase.
“Internet!” she blurted out.
“Huh?” T.J. said with a tilt of his head. “I didn’t see a computer.”
Meg didn’t wait to explain. She sprinted up the stairs to the garret where her laptop lay stashed in her backpack. She kept her head down, eyes glued to the worn, wooden steps as she rounded the landing of the second floor and wound her way up the tower.
“Minnie,” she called as she emerged into the garret. “I need my—”
Meg froze. The room looked like a bomb had gone off. Every drawer of the dresser had been pulled out and their contents—primarily Minnie’s weekend wardrobe—were strewn across the room. Underwear hung from the lampshade. A pair of shorts was caught on the mirror. Tanks and jeans, dresses and skirts carpeted the floor.
Both beds had been literally torn apart. Sheets lay at the foot of the bed, mattresses dislodged, pillows ripped from their cases and tossed aside.
Minnie’s suitcases were overturned, clothes and cosmetics scattered across the room, as if someone had shaken out the contents of her bags. Even Meg’s backpack hadn’t escaped the slaughter. Her cosmetics case and journal had been unceremoniously dumped on the armchair and her precious laptop had fallen onto the floor, propped up against the dresser.
It took Meg a moment to digest the scene, a moment longer to find Minnie. She was huddled in the corner, Ben crouched by her side. Her face was red and wet with tears.
“What’s wrong?” Meg asked. She’d seen Minnie in various stages of disarray, depression, and out-and-out despondency, but this? This was a first.
“Someone stole my pills,” Minnie said. Despite the signs of crying, her voice had a dispassionate matter-of-factness about it that unnerved Meg.
“Stole your pills?” Meg pulled one of her hooded sweatshirts off the back of the easy chair and pulled it on over her pajamas. “Come on, no one would steal your pills.”
Minnie’s hazel eyes flashed. “Then how do you explain the fact that they’re missing, huh? Some sort of magic trick?”
Meg glanced at Ben, who stayed quiet and rubbed Minnie’s back. Great, no help there.
Ten Page 6