Blood on the Beach

by Sarah N. Harvey

  “I don’t blame the kids, Del,” she was yelling. “They came here because they have problems. Difficulty accepting reality. Poor coping skills. And this was an extraordinarily stressful situation. It isn’t surprising that they would panic and overreact.”

  “You’re being awful understanding,” Del shouted back. “Those brats locked me up? I’d be pissed.”

  “It’s my job to understand them,” Claire yelled.

  Imogen grabbed my arm. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  “No kidding,” I said. “Me too.”

  “No, I mean—” She pushed past me, leaned over the side of the boat and vomited.

  Caleb swiveled around on his seat in front of us. “She’s seasick again?”

  I nodded, rubbing Imogen’s back. “Did you hear that, Caleb? What Claire was saying to Del?”

  “No. Too noisy.”

  “It was all about how the disturbed teens panicked and locked her up. Del obviously believes every word she’s saying. What if the cops do too?”

  Caleb nudged the large duffel bag between his feet. “We’ve got the evidence on our side, right? The love letter, the insulin bottles. They can’t ignore that.”

  Imogen sat up and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Oh my god, I feel like I’m dying here.” She turned away from us suddenly and leaned over the side of the Zodiac again, dry-heaving.

  Nick was still kneeling beside Rahim.

  “You think he’s going to make it?” Caleb asked, his mouth close to my ear.

  “I don’t know anything about it,” I said. “I mean, maybe if he gets insulin, he gets better? I hope so.”

  “He was a decent guy,” Caleb said.

  The way he said it—in past tense—told me what he thought.

  “Why did we wait so long to take the kayak out?” My voice wobbled. “We should’ve gone for help days ago.”

  I knew why we hadn’t though. We’d been thinking the adults would take care of things. It wasn’t until Warren was dead, Rahim unconscious and Claire locked up that we’d realized it was up to us.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Alice

  An ambulance and several cop cars were waiting at the dock when we arrived. The paramedics loaded Rahim into the back of the ambulance and peeled out, sirens blaring. I watched the ambulance disappear around the corner and tried to ignore the ache in my throat.

  Claire acted like the police were there at her personal request, shaking hands with them and introducing herself as Dr. Addison. I could hear her fervent thank-you to each of them.

  The police directed Del and Claire to get into a waiting police car. “And you kids, into the van. We’ll need statements from all of you,” a round-faced female officer told us.

  “I should warn you, several of these kids are addicts. You won’t get a true word from any of them,” Claire said to the male officer standing beside the car. “Alice, for example, has a tendency to…well, to tell lies. Alcoholics often confabulate to cover up the memory gaps from their blackouts.”

  “I’m not an alcoholic,” I snapped.

  “Tell Officer Nichols why you were at INTRO,” Claire chided. “It’s right on the intake forms your mother filled out.”

  Officer Nichols? She already knew all their names? “I had a few drinks at a party,” I said. “That’s all. Why are we talking about me? It’s not like I killed anyone.”

  “All right, simmer down,” the female officer said. “There’ll be plenty of time for you to tell us your version of things at the station.”

  “Our version?” Imogen said. She’d regained her composure once we were back on dry land. “It’s not our version. It’s the truth. And we have evidence.”

  “Evidence?” Claire gave a sad laugh and shook her head. “It’s just too awful. Having a girl go missing, losing my husband…and then having the other kids all gang up and turn on me like that.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I can’t believe this is all happening.”

  “Cue the violin music,” I said.

  A male officer with a neat mustache turned his head to look at me. “She just lost her husband,” he said, sounding shocked at my callousness. “Have a little respect.”

  “She just killed her husband,” I retorted. “And Tara. You want me to have some respect? I don’t think so.”

  “That’s enough, Alice,” Officer Nichols said. “Not another word until we get to the station.”

  “Thank you, Officer,” Claire said, her voice shaking. “I appreciate that.”

  “We have a Victim Services office at the station,” the male officer told her. “We’ll make sure you get taken care of.” He put a hand on Claire’s arm. “Here, let’s get you into the car…”

  My hands got really cold all of a sudden, and a tingling shot down my arms—that same feeling I get when I have stage fright at a karate tournament. Adrenaline, I guess.

  Was Claire actually going to get away with this?

  The guys filed into the van. I hung back with Mandy and Imogen.

  The police officer beckoned us over to the van. “You three. In here with the boys,” she ordered.

  “Group hug,” I said loudly, putting my arms around Imogen and Mandy. “I bet they split us up at the station,” I whispered. “You don’t have to talk to them, you know. We have a right to have our parents present if they’re going to be questioning us.”

  “Do we need a lawyer?” Mandy sounded frightened.

  “I don’t see why we should need one,” I said. “We’ve done nothing wrong. But wait until your mom comes before you talk to them. And don’t sign anything.”

  “Right now,” the officer said. “Let’s go. I’m not asking again.” She held the back door of the van open, and I slid in beside Caleb.

  * * *

  None of us spoke much in the van. For one thing, the police could hear everything we said. For another, we were all too nervous. Chad’s arm around Mandy’s shoulders was the only thing keeping her from completely losing it. Imogen was hunched up and withdrawn. Nick’s jaw was clenched so tightly I could see a muscle twitching beneath the skin. Jason had his knees pulled up in front of him and his face buried in his arms. For him, and for Chad and Caleb, this was not the first brush with the police. The three of them were probably scared shitless about what would happen to them if the cops believed Claire. I mean, we’d locked her in a cabin overnight. What was that? Unlawful confinement or something?

  Then Caleb nudged me, and when I looked up at him, he gave me a tiny nod. Just a small dip of his chin like, Hang in there. But it made me feel better.

  They split us up when we arrived at the station. I was whisked off to some tiny room and left there. After what seemed like an hour, the female officer from the van came in with a coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

  “We’re taking statements from everyone who was on the island,” she said. “I need you to sign this waiver. It simply says you agree to talk to us. Then I’ll ask you a series of questions, and—”

  I cut her off. “I want to call my mother,” I said. “I’ll make a statement once she gets here.”

  She sighed. “Really, Alice? No one is accusing you of anything. We’re just trying to understand what happened.”

  “Claire was accusing me,” I said. “You heard her.”

  She sighed again and nodded. “Fine. Call your mother.”

  * * *

  Mom was shocked to hear from me, obviously—I was supposed to be In Nature Renewing Myself, not in some random police station—but after a few rapid-fire questions, she told me she was on her way. “Sit tight till I get there,” she said. “And don’t sign anything.”

  It took her less than two hours to drive up to the Sunshine Coast from Vancouver, though it felt like forever. I spent the time going around and around in circles—reviewing the evidence in my mind, worrying about how persuasive Claire could be, wondering how Rahim was doing at the hospital and whether he was going to survive.

  When my mom arrived she was out of
breath, as if she’d sprinted the whole way on foot. She gave me a rib-crushing hug and then released me.

  “I’d like a few minutes alone with my daughter,” she told the police officer, who nodded and left us alone.

  “Tell me,” my mom said.

  And I told her everything. About what Tara had said in group and her disappearance that night, about the missing kayak and the frantic search, and about the blood on the beach. I told her about Warren getting sick after he ate the lunch Caleb and I made, and about the announcement the next morning that he was dead. I told her about the guys burying Warren in the woods, and about the missing insulin, and about Rahim getting ill and Nick taking care of him. I told her about the safe and all the evidence we had tried to preserve as well as we could, and about Claire attacking Caleb and me kicking her in the head and all of us locking her up.

  I even told her about Imogen and me. Which, crazy as it might sound, was the part I was most nervous about.

  When I was done, my mom just sat there for a long time, biting her lip, studying my face, taking it all in. “And that’s it? Nothing else?”

  “That’s it.”

  She met my eyes directly. “Alice, this is important. Is there anything you’ve left out? Anything that…that you could get in trouble for?”

  “Other than kicking Claire in the head?”

  “Anything at all.”

  I shook my head. “I told you everything.”

  I could see her relax. Then she said, “Okay. You did good, kiddo.” She glanced down at her watch. “Remember my friend Alexis?”

  “Uh, red hair? Swimmer, right?”

  “She also happens to be a lawyer. And she’s on her way. You can tell all of this to her, and she’ll stay with you when you make a statement to the police. She’ll make sure your rights are protected.”

  I thought of Caleb and the others, who probably didn’t have lawyers looking out for them. “What if the police think we’re lying? What if they believe Claire?”

  She shook her head. “Just tell them what happened. There are seven of you telling the truth, and only one lying. And believe it or not, sorting through statements and evidence and sifting out the facts is something detectives aren’t too bad at.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  She grinned at me. “Maybe skip the part about your girlfriend. That’s none of their business.”

  * * *

  My mom’s lawyer friend was a large woman with a reassuringly businesslike manner. After I’d spoken with her and made my statement to the police, I was told I could leave with my mother. “Has Claire been arrested?” I asked. “Are you charging her?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t give you any information at this time,” the officer said. She glanced at my mom. “We took statements from all the campers. There will be a full investigation, and the physical evidence from the safe and the island will need to be analyzed. The Integrated Homicide team will look at the young man’s—Noah’s—emails and see if those corroborate the kids’ story. There will need to be an autopsy of Warren’s body, obviously. And there’s Caleb’s injury—we’ve photographed it, but they’ll have to find the knife and check it for fingerprints. The whole island’s basically a crime scene.”

  Tell me about it, I thought.

  The officer turned to me. “Don’t leave Vancouver. The detectives may need to talk to you further.”

  “You’re not letting Claire go, are you?” I said.

  She hesitated. “Like I said, I can’t really give you any information, but…” She looked at my mother and then back at me. “No. No, she isn’t going anywhere right now.”

  As we walked out of the police station, my mom took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m proud of you, Alice,” she said.

  I stiffened a little but didn’t let go of her hand. “So does that mean you admit you shouldn’t have sent me there?”

  “I think that’s obvious. My god, Alice. I had no idea Warren’s wife—”

  I cut her off. “Not that. I mean, that I didn’t need to go to any stupid—”

  “Oh, honey.” She released my hand, stopped walking and turned to face me, right there in the middle of the parking lot. “I was worried. You know that. I was trying to do the right thing.”

  I had a sudden lump in my throat, and it took an effort to keep my voice steady. “I know.”

  “You’re angry though?”

  I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t know how I felt. Mostly I just felt exhausted. “I was,” I said. “But maybe not so much anymore.”

  Mom pulled her keys out of her purse as we neared our Subaru. “Well, I’m not about to send you away again after—” She stopped mid-sentence. “Is that one of your friends?”

  I looked where she was pointing. Caleb was sitting on a sidewalk bench outside the entrance to the cop shop. “Hey,” I called. “Caleb?”

  He stood up and walked toward us. “Hi, Alice. And, uh, Mrs.…or is it Detective?”

  “It’s Diane. Hi.” My mom held out a hand, and Caleb shook it.

  “How did it go?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “Hard to tell. I gave them all the evidence. Told them what I knew.”

  “What are you doing sitting out here?” I asked him. “Your mom…is she here?”

  He shook his head. “She’s not coming.”

  “What? That’s…” I trailed off. No point in saying how lousy it was—it’d only make him feel worse. “What are you going to do?”

  “Take a bus back to Vancouver, I guess.”

  “Do you have somewhere to go? I mean, you can’t go home, right? Not with your stepfather there.”

  He brushed something invisible off his sleeve. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out.”

  I looked at my mom. Just a look. She knew. “Caleb,” she said, “we’re driving back to the city. No point in you taking the bus when we have plenty of room in the car. Why don’t you come with us?”

  “Yeah? That’d be awesome.” He grinned. “Thanks.”

  So Caleb and I got into the car together, and my mom broke the speed limit all the way home.

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  THIRTY

  Caleb

  I came out of my room when I heard the doorbell ring. It still felt weird—going up the stairs from the basement into Rahim’s tidy kitchen. I couldn’t quite get my head around the fact that I had a home—a good home—and a foster father. I had spent the first few weeks after leaving INTRO at Alice’s house, and her mom, Diane, had helped me navigate the legal system, since my own mom had declined to lift a finger to help me. Apparently Barry had given her an ultimatum—him or me—and guess who she chose? I should probably get some help processing that shit, but let’s just say I’m a bit wary of therapists these days. Except for Rahim. He’s cool.

  As soon as he had recovered enough to pick up a phone, he had called all of us to make sure we were okay. When he found out what was going on in my life, he offered to be my court-appointed guardian until he was approved as my foster parent. I still don’t really know why. He said it was because he saw potential in me and because he had a spare room in his basement. This sounds sappy, but I think it was because he had extra room in his heart. I’ve been here nearly two months now. I’ve got my own entrance and my own bathroom. I help out around the house, not only because Rahim is still a bit weak from his near-death experience, but because I want to.

  “I’ll get the door,” I told Rahim, who was taking some mini-quiches out of the oven.

  Nick and Jason were standing on the doorstep, laughing about something. I hadn’t seen them since the day we left the island, but we’d talked on the phone a few times, keeping each other up-to-date on life after INTRO.

  Nick was carrying a plastic tray of cupcakes; Jason handed me a giant bag of chips and a huge bottle of hot salsa. We headed for the kitchen.

  “Anyone else here yet?” Jason asked.

  “Nope. You’re the first. Mandy’s not coming—her folks sent her
to some clinic in New Hampshire.”

  “No Mandy?” Nick said. “Who will Chad hit on?”

  “No Chad either,” I said. “He’s MIA. I texted him and left messages. Nothing.”

  “Can’t say that breaks my heart,” Jason said. “Guy’s an idiot.”

  “But he’s our idiot,” Nick said. “He should be here.”

  “I agree,” Rahim said. We followed him into the living room, where he put the tray of quiches on the coffee table. “But it’s great to see you two. Nick, how are things with your parents?”

  “Better after you talked to them,” Nick said.

  “Somebody had to tell them that their son saved my life,” Rahim said. “And I may have had a few things to say about how brave you were, and how selfless. I also may have talked a bit about their, uh, misguided beliefs.”

  “Their homophobia, you mean,” Nick said. He turned to us. “Rahim read them the riot act. It was awesome.”

  “So it’s all fine now?” Jason asked.

  “Well, it’s better,” Nick said. “Not perfect. I can see my dad struggling, but my mom’s been great. She keeps asking me if I want to go shopping with her, like that’s a gay thing.”

  “Isn’t it?” Jason asked.

  Nick punched him in the shoulder. “Imogen and Alice are coming, right?” he said.

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang, and there they were, holding hands and beaming.

  “Well, that’s one question answered,” Nick said, hugging first Alice and then Imogen.

  “What question is that?” Alice asked.

  “Whether you and Imogen are still together.”

  Alice giggled and blushed. They were pretty cute together, I had to admit.

  Rahim joined us, wiping his hands on an apron that said The last time I cooked, hardly anyone got sick. A little ghoulish, under the circumstances, but funny.

  He kissed Alice and Imogen on both cheeks, European-style. “There’s plenty of food, and there’s a cooler full of drinks in the kitchen. Nonalcoholic, of course. Help yourselves.”