The Lying Woods

by Ashley Elston

  He’s surprised by my words. “What did you say?”

  I drop down in the chair, all of the fight draining right out of me. “The last conversation I had with her was about you. She said you wouldn’t handle it well. And she asked me to promise her not to let you go so far over the edge that you can’t find your way back.”

  He drops his head in his hands.

  “And so I promised her. Don’t make me break it. That’s the last thing I said to her.”

  Gus is quiet and I’m praying my words are sinking in because if he keeps this up, he won’t last the year.

  Finally, he stands up and says, “I’m going to get a shower. When I’m done, you can show me what you’ve been doing around here the last couple of weeks.”

  He walks into the bathroom and I feel like a weight has lifted off my chest.

  Robert is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I was worried there for a minute. Sounded like one of you were going to come crashing through the ceiling.”

  I straighten my shirt and move past him. “It’s all good.”

  He follows behind me while I walk from the barn to the big house. “I’ve been doing a little research,” he says.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Trying to figure out where all Gus’s money comes from. I mean, a twenty-eight-year-old guy who has never held a job? And lives on a place like this? Got to be a ton of money coming in here from somewhere.”

  I feel like every conversation I have with Robert since Abby’s parents left, he’s baiting me. And it takes everything for me not to take a bite. Because money is what I need.

  But the thing about Robert is he doesn’t wait for me to ask, he just goes on and tells me.

  “So I figured out where it comes from,” he says.

  I stop and spin around to look at him. “I won’t let you take advantage of him,” I say.

  He holds his hands up. “Who’s saying that? All I’m saying is I figured out a mystery. Gus owns thousands and thousands of acres of land. And every one of those acres is leased to an oil and gas company. A big one out of Houston. Can you imagine the damn checks he gets every month?”

  I turn away and finish the short distance to the house. Today, we’re cleaning out the front beds, getting rid of the summer flowers that have died in the unending heat and replanting them with flowers that will take us through the fall.

  We stop in front of the flower bed that wraps around the front porch.

  “You’re going to need some gloves and a small shovel. Also go get a wheelbarrow from the barn,” I tell him.

  Robert puts a hand on my shoulder. “Aren’t you listening? Gus doesn’t have any other family. It will be a miracle if he ever leaves this place and remarries so he probably won’t have any kids. Who’s going to get all of this once he’s gone?”

  “Quit saying shit like that. He’s not even thirty. There’s still time for him to have a life.”

  “I’m just saying. I plan on staying close. I mean, I am related to Abby. So maybe I’ll be in line to get some of this,” he says with his arms spread wide. “Or maybe you will,” he adds. “Although I’ll make it hard for you to cut me out. After all, I’m Abby’s cousin. And you’re just some guy who showed up looking for a job.”

  More and more I’m wishing he left with Abby’s parents.

  And since all I need to make things work with Maggie is money, more and more I’m wishing he didn’t put these ideas in my head.

  But one thing I know for sure is Robert is looking to cash in and there’s no way I’m letting him take advantage of Gus. “When are you heading back to school?” I ask.

  “Ready to be rid of me?” he asks.

  We’re both thinking about that night a few weeks ago when he overheard me say I was.

  I turn and face him, squaring my shoulders. “I’m just not sure this is where you belong.”

  He raises one eyebrow. “But you do?”

  I shrug and we stare at each other.

  Robert picks up the shovel and shoves it in the ground, uprooting the old, dead plants. “I guess we’ll see,” he says.

  Another thing I know for sure? It’s past time for Robert to go.

  21

  I can’t move. Or speak.

  Jimmy looks at the tombstone and then looks at the paper in his hand, trying to find the problem.

  “It’s spelled right,” I finally manage to say.

  I drop down next to Leonard Trudeau’s grave and watch them permanently attach a tombstone that has Gus’s name on it to a concrete footing that was under a thin layer of dirt. It should take longer than it does but within ten minutes, Jimmy and his helper are loading up and driving out of the orchard.

  Looking at the tombstone I feel my eyes tear up, but it’s not possible to mourn a man I didn’t know. Because the man I thought of as Gus is obviously not Gus.

  Something inside snaps and I jump up and race to the golf cart. Who is the guy I’ve spent almost every day with?

  It has to be someone who knows this place, knows the history—someone who knew Gus when Gus was still alive.

  But how would he get away with this?

  He never goes to town. No one ever comes here…except Betty. But I’ve never seen Betty. Only heard about her.

  And all of those people that worked on the house were from Alexandria. No one local.

  Mr. Blackwell’s words come back to me: Some guy from Dad’s past is back in town. And then the conversation with Mrs. Sullivan: Your dad had a way of going after what he wanted and he made enemies along the way.

  Is that who’s been here, acting like Gus? The guy from Dad’s past? Maybe an enemy of his who is set on destroying him?

  Mr. Blackwell said he overheard that conversation back in the middle of summer…around the same time Gus’s tombstone said he passed away and the same time someone moved in here and pretended to be Gus. That can’t be a coincidence.

  I’ve got to get out of here. I need to talk to Mom.

  Thankfully, when I pull up at the house, Gus isn’t around. I head to the truck, not thinking about anything other than getting out of here, but stop.

  Whoever is acting like Gus is way on the other side in section three, completely oblivious to what I’ve discovered, or that the tombstone has been delivered and installed days earlier than he expected, but his ignorance won’t last forever. This is my only chance.

  I race up the stairs to the small apartment and push open the door, thankful it’s unlocked. If he’s the one threatening Mom, I don’t want him to know he’s been found out yet.

  It looks just like it did last time I was here so I move to the desk against the far wall and dig through the papers on top. Most of them are invoices for the work that’s been done to the house. I need to call Detective Hill and tell him there’s an imposter living here, spending the real Gus’s money.

  I look at every piece of paper and find nothing but the bills.

  Who is this guy? There’s not a shred of information here on anyone but Gus and this house.

  Moving to the drawers, I dig through each and every one. In the bottom drawer, I pull out a thick manila folder. Dropping it on the top of the desk, I open it and scan through what’s inside.

  It’s pages and pages of information on Dad’s business…blueprints, inventory, employees, financial reports. There are copies of the EPA complaints and list after list of wells Louisiana Frac worked on, the landowners who owned the wells, everything.

  Then I run across a letter from William Cooper on his company’s letterhead. It’s handwritten and short, consisting of only a few lines:

  Received the plans you sent. Everything looks good. Hopefully, it won’t be long until the Feds show up. It’ll be an open and shut case. And then we can move forward.

  I gather up everything I can put my hands on, anything that shows this guy isn’t who he says he is, and that there’s a really good chance he set Dad up…along with help from Mr. Cooper…and shove it into a plast
ic bag. Then I take a quick look at the surface of the desk, hoping everything looks like it did when I walked in.

  I’m halfway to the truck when I see Gus pull up on the tractor.

  Not Gus.

  He hops off and walks toward me just like the world isn’t falling apart right now.

  “Did you get finished?” he asks.

  I shake my head and force myself not to look at the bag in my hand. I have to act normal so I can get out of here. “I’m going to have to call it a day. I’m not feeling well. There’s something going around at school and I’m scared I got it.”

  His face shows concern and I want to punch him. If he was concerned about me, he wouldn’t have lied to me.

  “Oh, yeah, sure. Get on home then. I came back to tell you we were shutting it down early today,” he says.

  I take a deep breath and concentrate on not running full out to the truck. He stands in the yard and watches me pull away, giving me one last wave before I’m out of sight.

  Noah—Summer of 1999

  “Where are we going?” I ask Maggie. We’re in Abby’s car again and I just picked Maggie up. It’s the first time I’ve left the orchard since that night with Nate. It’s been a rough couple of days and I’m glad to be getting away. Thankfully only her sister was home so I didn’t have to sit through another awkward conversation with her dad or worry her mom was mentally cleaning up behind me.

  “A movie. There’s a new one out that looks really cute. And I’m dying for a huge box of popcorn.”

  I’m about to try to talk her into the scary one I saw advertised just as I notice the cop behind me. Before I can check my speed, he throws his lights and sirens on.

  “Shit,” I say.

  Maggie tenses in the seat next to me. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “I have no idea.”

  I pull over and we’re quiet while we wait for the officer to approach the car. I roll down the window.

  “License, registration, and insurance,” he says behind mirrored glasses.

  “Yes, sir,” I answer, then dig out my wallet for my license while Maggie goes through the glove box for the other forms he’s requested.

  We hand everything over and he takes them back to the patrol car.

  “Why do you think he pulled us over?” she asks.

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I wasn’t speeding. Maybe there’s a taillight out or something.”

  It takes him forever to come back to the car but when he does I know this is more than a normal traffic stop.

  His hand rests on the gun in his holster and I brace myself for what’s coming. “I’m going to need you both to exit the vehicle and put your hands on the hood of the car.”

  “What!” Maggie says loudly from the passenger seat. I can tell she’s about to argue with him so I turn to her and say, “Let’s just do what he says.”

  We both get out of the car and I notice there are two more patrol cars pulled up behind his. This is not good.

  I put my hands on the hood and look across the car at Maggie doing the same thing. We’re on the main drag in town and I know probably every person passing by notices her.

  By the look on her face, she knows this, too.

  An officer from one of the other patrol cars gets out with his K9 dog and I’m stunned. Why would they need a drug dog at this stop?

  The officer lets the dog loose in the car and it goes nuts almost immediately. I drop my head on the hood.

  “What does that mean?” Maggie asks.

  I mumble, “He found something in the car.”

  “What did he find?” she asks.

  I look up, searching her face, and she’s totally clueless. I’d forgotten what different worlds we come from.

  “Drugs.”

  “Drugs!” she yells. “Why would that dog find drugs in the car?”

  The officer who pulled us over comes close to me and jerks me up, pulling both of my arms behind me. “You have the right to remain silent….”

  “Wait! Wait! What are you doing?” Maggie screams from the other side of the car just as the officer slaps the cuffs around my wrists.

  “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law….”

  I’m fucking freaking out on the inside but trying to remain calm on the outside for Maggie. “Maggie, it’s okay. There’s been a mistake. Don’t worry.” But then I notice the other cop moving toward her, cuffs dangling from his fingers. “Wait, what are you doing?” I ask him across the hood.

  The cop behind me continues with the Miranda warning while I watch the other cop pull Maggie’s arms behind her, thankfully more gently than mine were.

  But Maggie doesn’t remain calm. She panics and starts fighting him, screaming, “Why are you doing this? We haven’t done anything wrong!”

  I turn and look at the cop behind me, taking in his name on his badge, and say, “Officer Hill, could you please tell us what we’re being arrested for?”

  Another cop walks up holding a large bag in a gloved hand and my stomach bottoms out. “Son, we found this under the passenger seat. We’ve got you both on possession and with the large amount, we’ve got you on intent to distribute as well.”

  I can feel the color drain from my face. Maggie looks wild. Her hair has come loose from her ponytail and the officer is having to physically restrain her.

  “That’s not ours. I swear to God that is not ours,” I say.

  Officer Hill pulls me to his waiting patrol car and says, “That’s what they all say.”

  I’ve been waiting alone in a small white room for a long time. My left wrist is still cuffed but the other end is attached to a metal loop in the center of the table. The last time I saw Maggie she was being shoved into one of the other patrol cars, screaming my name while tears streamed down her face.

  I feel like I could vomit.

  Finally, two guys, both in button-down shirts and khakis, come in the room and I sit up straight. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in this situation.

  They both sit down in front of me and we stare at each other for a long minute.

  “I’m Detective Gaines and this is Detective Broward. So, you understand the K9 found a substantial amount of drugs in the car you were operating?”

  “Yes, sir.” I’ve also learned from experience not to say a damn word more than necessary even though protests of innocence are bursting to come out. Why were drugs in Abby’s car? I’ve been waiting for the moment Nate tries to get me back for humiliating him and I can’t help but think this is it.

  “And the car you were operating is registered to Abby Trudeau, who is deceased?” Detective Gaines asks.

  “Yes, sir.”

  They both wait a moment, hoping for more from me but they won’t get it.

  “Do you have permission to drive Mrs. Trudeau’s vehicle?”

  “Yes, sir.” God, I hope Gus backs me on this. He let me drive it without hesitation the first time I took it out but I didn’t ask this time. I just assumed he’d be okay with it.

  The two men look at one another and then to me. Detective Gaines says, “Okay, well, we’re trying to contact Mr. Trudeau but we aren’t having much luck.”

  Silence. But inside I’m freaking out at what they will tell Gus and if Gus will defend me or believe what they claim.

  “The passenger in the vehicle is a Margaret Ann Everett?” It seems all questions will be asked by Detective Gaines while Detective Broward just stares at me.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what is your relationship to Miss Everett?”

  “Friend.”

  “Just a friend?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Silence.

  “Want to tell us what was in the bag the K9 found?”

  “I have no idea what was in that bag since it’s not mine,” I say. Both men strike an overly surprised expression but mine remains the same.

  “Oh! It’s not yours?” Detective Broward asks.

  “No, sir.”

>   Again they look at each other. “So it must be Miss Everett’s?”

  This gets a reaction out of me. “No! She has nothing to do with this. Nothing at all.”

  Detective Broward leans forward with a smug expression now that he’s found my weak spot. “So you say the drugs aren’t yours. And you say the drugs aren’t hers. And the owner of the car is deceased. So, Noah, tell me…what are we supposed to believe?”

  Silence. It’s not my job to tell them what to believe. The best I can do is say as little as possible.

  Detective Broward says, “I wonder how Miss Everett is going to fare in lockup? We don’t have a big facility here and no place to separate men from women. I sure hope she’s going to be okay.”

  I grit my teeth, absolutely refusing to give in to this. I know he can say whatever he wants no matter if it’s truthful or not.

  Detective Gaines leans forward now so both are as close to me as they can get with the table between us. “You know, we really don’t need an answer from you. The drugs were found in your possession. It’s a slam dunk. You can stay silent on this matter for the rest of your life but it won’t change the outcome for you. Especially since we pulled your record. You’re no stranger to trouble, are you, Noah?”

  Fuck. I drop my head to the table. I’m so screwed.

  “Now, the only thing up for debate is if Miss Everett was in on it with you or just an innocent bystander who was in the wrong car, at the wrong time, with the wrong boy.”

  I’ve been set up. There’s no other explanation. Someone, probably Nate, wants me gone and now I’m gone.

  There’s nothing left for me to say except, “I want a lawyer.”

  22

  I screech to a halt in front of Aunt Lucinda’s house, barely putting the truck in park before jumping out of the driver’s seat.

  Mom’s in the kitchen and it looks like she just got off a call.

  “Owen, what’s going on?” she asks when she sees my expression.