Seeing Crows

by Matthew Miles

  She followed the direction of my finger out over the water, where from even here we could tell, but dreaded to admit, that Tilly was floating face down in the water.

  “Oh my God,” Dalia muttered, somewhere between a whimper and a gasp, and I couldn’t deny it any longer.

  We both rushed into the water, peeling the rest of our clothes off on our way.

  *14*

  “So you’re popular with the ladies,” Officer Washington said, pacing in front of me, where I sat in a wooden chair in the main lodge.

  “I don’t think of myself that way,” I mumbled.

  “Well, that’s two girls who have had the pleasure of your company,” Washington snapped, and stopped pacing to look directly at me. “And are now dead.”

  Of course, I’d spent just as much time with Dalia, and now even a fair amount with Officer Washington herself, and they were both still alive. I couldn’t bring myself to point this out. “I didn’t have anything to do with their deaths,” I insisted.

  “Well I don’t believe in coincidences like that,” Washington said, sticking her face into mine, making me turn my head away. “And even if Tilly’s death was an accident, there’s still a matter of you providing her with marijuana and alcohol, which may have contributed to her drowning.”

  “Dalia gave her the wine and dope,” I answered, trying to look back at her. “I just happened to walk in on them.”

  “How fortunate for you,” she said, returning to pacing. “Your ethics are unassailable.”

  “I told you everything that happened,” I pleaded. “It will match Dalia’s story.”

  “You have no idea what Dalia said,” Washington pointed out.

  “If it’s different, she’s lying,” I said. “Those two were there before me, and would have been doing the same thing no matter what.”

  “Third wheel?” Washington asked, mocking me, looking back over her shoulder.

  “I wasn’t exactly the life of the party,” I admitted.

  “Murder can tire a guy out,” she chided.

  “I’ve never hurt anybody in my life,” I told her.

  “They might be closing the camp down,” she said. “But you, you don’t go anywhere.”

  *15*

  “Listen,” Dr. Phillips said, pacing the office much like Officer Washington had only moments before, while I sat in the same hot seat.

  Since the deaths, the heat wave had only seemed to swell in intensity. Sweat drained unchecked from every pore in my flesh.

  Rayburn and Rivers watched quietly, while Phillips continued.

  “Nobody here thinks you meant to hurt either of those girls.”

  A hint of menace tinged his tone, though, and I could tell I had displeased him. I surmised he blamed me still, in some way, for Charlie’s death. And that this only complicated that.

  “Though there is the matter of the wine and alcohol,” Dr. Rayburn interjected, not picking up on Phillips’ tone, fearing I was being let off the hook. He enjoyed seeing me in trouble too much to allow that, always harboring that secret vendetta against me.

  “Dalia provided those,” I reiterated. I hated selling her out like that, but it was the truth, and since I was the common link between two deaths in twenty-four hours, all of the heat was on me.

  “You participated,” Dr. Rivers countered.

  The three professors had me locked in Dr. Phillips’ office since Officer Washington left. I hadn’t been charged with anything; there was no evidence to actually use against me, but I was regarded as a possible suspect in two deaths. There was no evidence to suggest that either death wasn’t an accident, actually. I agreed it was brutal as a coincidence, but was damned if I was going to go down for this.

  “Look,” I said, “I was there drinking, I was a part of what went on, but I didn’t set this up for anything; it would have occurred with or without me.”

  “Jones,” Dr. Rivers said, the only one from whom any sympathy emanated at all. “We understand that it was an accident, and that no one made Tilly do anything she didn’t want to do.”

  “At least I hope no one did,” Rayburn said, glaring at me.

  That was a little over the top.

  “Relax,” Dr. Phillips ordered him.

  “But the police, and the University, for that matter, can’t condone that kind of activity,” Dr. Rivers explained, trying to interject some reason. “We know, personally, it’s what kids do, but we have to represent the University. Of course, they can’t do anything but fire you from this job. And the police want you to stay right here, so we’re basically not going to do anything right now.”

  “We may be closing the camp,” Dr. Rayburn reminded her.

  “We don’t know the cause of either of these deaths,” Dr. Rivers told everybody bluntly. “They may just be tragic accidents, and I hope they are. And if not, it doesn’t mean Jones had anything to do with them anyways. All he did was drink some booze and smoke some pot. It’s what everybody does.”

  “He did something illegal with a student,” Rayburn countered.

  All of the professors looked everywhere but at each other.

  “And he’s not the only one in this room guilty of that,” Dr. Rivers concluded.

  Silence ensued.

  The heat lifted from me for the first time in hours.

  *16*

  I was kicking back on my bed, licking my wounds, and trying to figure out what the hell had happened over the last two days. Two deaths. For both, I was the last person with them. Or one of the last. I relished these few moments to myself. When I’d left here last night, and gone to the lake, it had been to try to find some peace and solitude, to get away from Lester.

  It was only coincidence that I ran into Tilly and Dalia; I had just sat down there to unwind. They had pulled me into their little party, it all would have happened with or without me. I shouldn’t be blamed. I stumbled upon them, just a random participant.

  Yet, now, I was considered the most likely perpetrator of some crime, or series of crimes. It was tough enough to come to terms with the deaths of both Charlie and Tilly. True, I had really only just met them, but I had also shared moments with them - conversations, meaningful exchanges. They had opened up and shared secrets with me, told me about their losses, their suffering. That was a rare thing. I felt somehow tied to their deaths, violently sneaking upon them in the wake of those very moments.

  It had been a long time since I’d really connected with anyone, but in my day, I’d had girlfriends, flings, occasional conversations - and no deaths. These had to be accidents, brutal twists that had nothing to do with me. Didn’t they?

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in,” I said, sighing heavily, not wanting to deal with anyone or anything.

  The door opened and Dr. Phillips poked his head in. “Hey,” he said, entering. Officer Washington followed behind him, but they didn’t come in much farther than the doorway. I saw Dr. Rayburn hovering behind them as well, all tense and bouncy. He really wanted to stick me with this, I could tell.

  The tension was palpable, yet no one spoke, as if they were waiting for me to say something. I had no idea why they were here. I sat up on the bed, legs dangling off the edge now, and dropped my hands onto my knees.

  “I’m not going to offer you a seat,” I prompted them, not feeling hospitable. “So you might as well say whatever you got to say.”

  Dr. Phillips grimaced, looked away from me.

  “We found Charlie’s boyfriend in a motel halfway between here and Buffalo,” Officer Washington announced. “We believe he was on his way back there from here. He never showed up for his job today, and we put an APB out on him. A trooper spotted his car parked outside the motel.”

  I sat there silently, watching them, making sure I was getting all of the implications of what she just said. Dr. Phillips looked grim, still unable to meet my eyes.

  I wondered if it was guilt. That would be preferable to hostility, but I sensed that lingering behind this new
emotion still, too.

  “It is the police department’s belief that he followed Charlie here and her death was the result of an altercation between the two,” she explained. “He has denied this and we have no specific evidence or confirmation, but we are now only considering you a person of marginal interest in Charlie’s death. If there is anything you can think of, that she may have said to you, or that happened, that you think will help us, please let me know. It will only help you.”

  “Not that I didn’t tell you already,” I said, and then breathed a sigh of relief, though I felt guilty for being relieved, knowing how tragic this all was still. “What about Tilly?” I asked.

  “The medical examiner found no signs of struggle,” Washington said. “There were very low levels of alcohol in her blood. According to Dalia, it was you who consumed the majority of the bottle of wine, before passing out. We think this is concurrent with your version of the story, and with the truth. It is our belief that Tilly went swimming, and drowned. While alcohol may have minimally affected her judgment, and ability to swim, at the time, it is our belief that her drowning was more reasonably the result of fatigue, for which you may be responsible, but not criminally.”

  I allowed myself another sigh of relief. “What about me, then?”

  “You stay right here,” Washington said. “This isn’t over yet.”

  Dr. Phillips looked up for the first time. The death of his niece, now perceived to be murder, seemed to have finally caught up to him. “We’re shutting the camp down. Those no reason to believe these are not isolated incidents. And that Charlie wasn’t specifically targeted. But this shocking for kids. We can’t ignore what’s happened. We’ll be contacting parents. I need you to talk to your students. As soon as we can arrange to get them all home, I want them back with their families.”

  He turned and left, his abrupt demeanor leaving the only coolness I’d felt in days.

  *17*

  I gathered the remaining students together – Brian and Moose, and Kevin and Tom, and Molly. One of their number had died, and though, with the exception of Molly, they hadn’t gotten to know her well, they all radiated a shell-shocked confusion. I wanted to give them a chance to discuss it with each other, away from adults and counselors. I also wanted to clear my name, make sure they, especially Molly, since she was Tilly’s friend, didn’t somehow blame me. I wanted to make sure they recognized this as a tragic accident that was only connected to me by coincidence, that I was guilty only of proximity - and in Charlie’s death too, for that matter. I had to make sure the students didn’t harbor the same suspicions the police had. And likely still did.

  We all hovered on a corner of the lawn outside the main lodge, imitating each others’ awkward shuffle, before I mastered my nerves with a deep sigh and led everyone to sit in a ring on the grass, dropping to the lawn first myself. I picked blades of it nervously while they all settled cautiously around me. “The police told me today they believe Tilly’s death was an accidental drowning,” I told them matter-of-factly, to get the conversation started and the information out in the open.

  “They don’t think you had anything to do with it?” Molly asked. She looked haggard, eyes red from crying, all the spirit deflated from them. I could tell the effort it took her to keep her composure in front of the other students. I gave her a sad smile - little comfort, I knew.

  “No,” I told her, relieved I could say that honestly.

  “Even after that other girl died?” Tom asked.

  “Charlie had an ex-boyfriend stalking her, and the police believe he is responsible,” I explained.

  “She was murdered?” Kevin asked.

  “Maybe,” I conceded.

  “Damn,” Moose said. “A murder right here?”

  “I think it’s fishy,” Tom announced. “Two people dead in two days? With you the last to see them both?”

  “Let’s not speculate,” I suggested, but agreed with him in my own mind, against all logic. It was fishy, a feeling I couldn’t shake, regardless of the cold fact that I had nothing to do with their deaths. “The police are fully investigating this, and they don’t see any connection between the two.”

  “Except for you,” Brian offered.

  This wasn’t going well. “They’ve ruled me out,” I explained.

  “It’s true,” Molly said. “He’s been messing around with Dalia too, and she’s still alive.”

  “Jesus,” I said, uncomfortable with her frankness. Was everybody spying on me?

  “What if there’s a killer loose at the camp?” Tom asked. “And it’s not Jones, but somebody trying to frame him? Revenge for something you did in the past?”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said, but ran through a list of possible enemies in my mind, just the same. Winewright? This would be a little too obnoxious, even for him. Rayburn? That would be seriously unprofessional.

  “Or an old lover,” Molly suggested. “Jealous of you hanging out with other girls.”

  “Maybe it’s Dalia, then,” Moose suggested. “She’s the only one who didn’t die.”

  “Alright, this talk isn’t doing any good,” I said, not liking the direction of the conversation. “Tilly drowned and you’re all making up crazy stories.”

  “We’re writers,” Molly reminded me. “We need a story that explains everything.”

  “Stories don’t need to have tidy endings,” I countered, a mantra of mine as a writer. “Life doesn’t.”

  “Certainly not for anyone here,” Kevin interjected.

  “Yeah, nothing is coincidence,” Tom offered. “If two people connected to something or someone dies, there’s a central reason.”

  “Alright, that’s enough,” I snapped. “What happened between me and anyone else is none of your business. And none of it had to do with their deaths,” I insisted, looking around the circle at each of them. “Alright? No revenge against me, no jealous lovers. Just some misfortunate events.”

  Everyone finally fell a little silent.

  “Now, your parents are all being contacted. The camp is shutting down and we’ll get you all home as soon as we can arrange it. It might take a day or two, even. But, in the meantime, there’s no reason feel unsafe,” I told them.

  “I’m not worried, as long as you don’t want to hang out with me,” Tom said, and everybody laughed.

  A real icebreaker.

  “Get out of here, and go talk to your parents,” I said, exasperated.

  The students started filing off in pairs, Kevin and Tom, Brian and Moose, until only Molly and I remained.

  “Jones,” she said, tentatively.

  “Yeah?” I asked, worried about what she had to say.

  “I know you didn’t have anything to do with Tilly’s death,” she told me.

  “Thanks,” I said cautiously, sensing she knew something that no one else did. I remained quiet, deciding to just let her speak.

  “She came back to the room,” Molly explained.

  “What?” I said, raising my eyebrows. The assumed story was that Tilly had gone swimming after we had all separated.

  “She came back,” Molly repeated. “We talked; she told me about hanging out with you and Dalia. She went to bed.”

  “For real?” I asked, trying to grasp the implications of this, not sure what it meant, exactly, though.

  “She went to bed,” Molly reiterated. “But she was gone again by the time I got up in the morning.”

  This seemed like important information, though I wasn’t sure how it changed anything. Tilly still returned to the lake, still drowned by accident. It just didn’t happen the way everyone thought it did.

  *18*

  I couldn’t shake the feeling that this meant something, though, that it changed everything. I wanted to talk to Dr. Phillips and see if he could help me sort it out. I knew he was angry at me; I wanted to show him I was innocent, that I wanted to help figure out what was going on. If Tilly had returned to her cabin, and gone to bed, why did she go back to the la
ke? Maybe it mattered, maybe it didn’t – but the question was eating at me.

  As I entered the main lodge, I crossed paths with Dr. Rayburn, who stopped me.

  “Jones,” he said, with little kindness in his voice.

  “Yeah,” I said cautiously. I had a very guarded relationship with Rayburn, ever since the incident of me sleeping with Emily, a student he had harbored a not so private, not so healthy attraction to. Perhaps he should have thanked me; I may have saved him considerable professional embarrassment. He’d creeped Emily out pretty bad a couple of times and she came really close to trying to get his ass fired. But he didn’t stop himself there.

  “You know, integrity is measured by the University more than just academically,” he told me slowly, obviously preceding something greater he wanted to express. “And certainly not just on talent or potential.”

  He was a good one to talk about integrity, I thought, but opted to remain silent.

  Her grades started to plummet in his class. So did mine.

  “I know the police have largely ruled you out as responsible for what’s happened here, over the last couple of days,” he continued, clearly not sharing the police’s stance on this. He was itching to see me busted, I could tell.

  Emily had confronted him about the grades he was giving her. He told her there was only one way she was going to see them improve. He didn’t know I was lurking nearby, wasn’t expecting me to confront him, or eventually the punch that landed right on the side of his face.

  “But appearances mean a lot,” he chastised.

  The first act of violence in my life had ended with Rayburn’s head bouncing off a curb. He would’ve been seeing lights if not for the blood running into his eyes.

  His anger was building as he returned to blasting me. “Your proximity to people who died shortly after questionable interaction with you doesn’t reflect very well on you,” he said. “It says a lot about your character - a pattern of behavior that I and the other faculty have observed. And frankly, I’m not the only one concerned.”