I follow Hunter. If he’s going to talk to the cops, then I want to hear what he has to say.
Everyone is screwing everyone and I don’t just mean figuratively. The Bitch Clique is incestuous and yet, my pulse doubles when I think how that detective seems laser-focused on me.
I walk parallel to the cypress trees trailing Hunter’s shadow. At first he makes a beeline toward Elliot, but then he veers off down the path, ignoring the temporary barricade that been erected to confine guests to the yard.
I know where Hunter’s going. The cobblestone walkway leads to the tennis courts at the bottom of the hill. And I doubt Hunter is suddenly up for playing doubles.
I look both ways across the massive lawn, as if I’m checking for oncoming traffic before crossing a busy intersection. My mother sits at the table alone, tearing the placecard into shreds. I bolt forward and head down the walkway. This time, I make sure to slip off my heels so they don’t clack on the red cobblestones, alerting Hunter to my presence.
I don’t have to go far in my bare feet as whoever Hunter is meeting is not down by the tennis courts. He meanders off the path and crosses a small English garden. Hunter circles a fountain and sits down next to someone on one of the decorative cement benches. I can’t see the person’s face, just the hem of her dress.
I hear sobbing and I can’t tell who it’s coming from, but I doubt Hunter is shedding any tears. I hear him say, “Don't worry.” Then, “I’ll fix it.”
I’m about to inch closer when a meaty hand clamps down on my shoulder.
Detective Rowell towers over me, his mouth set into a firm line, and although I can't get a read on him, my stomach sinks. “This way, young lady.” He gives me half a second to slip back on my shoes before he steers me uphill, along the path, and to the backyard. When we emerge, everyone is staring at me.
My mother is on her cell phone, and I don’t have to hear her to know she’s talking to my father. I do hear the word, lawyer, though.
“Where you've been?” she hisses when I reach the table. “He’s threatening to take you to the police station if you don’t sit still.”
I yank back my arm, drop into the chair, and glance up. Rowell is wearing an annoyed expression.
I sense his game. He thinks I’m some apathetic teenager he can jerk around.
“Miss Longview, I thought I told you stay put.” He plunks his large frame into the white linen chair.
“You did, but I had to pee,” I tell him.
“How long ago was that?” he asks, his pen poised in the air.
“I don't know. Ten minutes.”
My mother scoffs and I shoot her a glare.
“Longer than that,” I say.
He nods at my arm. “I want to talk more about that scratch. It looks bad.” And I wonder if he’s referring to my situation or the five angry, red lines blazed across my flesh.
I shrug. “It stings if that makes you happy.”
“A girl is dead, so no, I’m not happy,” he snaps.
I’m chastised. I didn’t mean to be so cavalier about Rebecca’s death. It’s just I have no idea how to defend myself. “I didn't kill her.”
“You said yourself that you had an altercation and you can’t provide an alibi for your whereabouts. Your prints are on the Champagne bottle at the murder scene and through your admittance, your blood is under Rebecca’s fingernails. Add that to the fabric we found, and your ripped dress, plus your hatred for one another…” His voice trails. He doesn’t need to continue.
My mother squirms next to me. “Perhaps, my daughter needs a lawyer.”
“No,” I protest, at the same time Rowell says, “They can meet us at the station.”
But his words ring in my ears. Am I the only one here with a motive? That is awfully convenient.
“Mom.” I whirl toward her. “How did I get invited to this party?”
She shakes her head like she doesn’t understand the question. “I assumed you called Mrs. Green, made her invite me.” I go on, “Did you do that?”
She smiles, confused. “No, I didn’t call her. You and Rebecca were friends. Why wouldn’t you be invited?”
Rowell watches this exchange with interest.
“Mom, Rebecca and I haven’t been friends for a long time. She hates my guts. In fact, everyone at this party hates my guts.” Well, almost everyone.
My mom glances at the detective and pats her hairdo in place. I’m not sure if she’s embarrassed by the confession that I’m a social outcast or flustered that I’ve mentioned another reason to want Rebecca dead. Am I digging my grave in front of this cop?
I ask again just to be sure. “Mom, did you weasel an invite out of Mrs. Green?”
“No!” she snaps. “I would never stoop so low. Had I realized we wouldn’t be welcomed, I would’ve stayed at home.” I believe her, which can only mean, I was purposefully invited here today.
“I’m being set up,” I say aloud.
Rowell laughs because, of course, it’s funny. Like I’m on a rerun of Law & Order. But it makes sense. Invite Carrie Longview, the girl everyone despises, and frame her. But clearly, Rebecca wouldn’t invite me to her party so I could be blamed for her murder. So, why would she invite me?
There’s someone I need to talk to. Someone who knows why I’m truly here. But I need to get rid of Rowell first.
“I was with Elliot MacIver,” I tell the detective.
My mom’s nostrils flare and she looks at me like she doesn’t know who I am.
Rowell flips back a few pages in his little book. “He claims he was with his sister.”
“I figured,” I say.
“One of you is lying then,” he says.
“Ask him.” My voice sounds more forceful this time.
Rowell stares at me for a moment, as if trying to rattle me.
“You’re the detective,” I challenge. “Can’t you tell which one of us is lying?”
I find them together, huddled deep in the woods, not far from where Elliot and I had hooked up. They haven’t made too much of an effort to hide themselves, but out here, they don’t have to. Maybe because the person who would out them is dead. But, even then, I’m not sure this is the reason.
I watch them trace their lips across necks and cheeks. They’re breathless and slightly weepy even as they drape their arms across each other’s shoulders, gripping each other tight, as if someone is going to tear them apart forever. Because someone is.
Me.
They hear my approach before I am close. They turn their heads so fast, I’m surprised they didn’t snap their necks.
Melissa is the first to talk. “Shit, Carrie. You scared us.”
Good.
I inch closer, like I’m trying to wrangle a skittish fawn. “Sorry for interrupting. Now, I know a secret.” My voice sounds slinky, sultry even. I don’t recognize it.
Piper moves a step, angles her shoulder so that she now stands in front of Melissa. It’s a protective stance.
“Go back, Carrie,” Melissa manages. “Admit you killed Rebecca.”
“That would be convenient for you,” I say.
The girls don’t say anything. They stand there, one blonde, one raven-haired, night and day, dark and light. That’s when I notice the claw marks on Melissa’s thigh, the raw skin peeking out from under the hemline of her dress. Rebecca fought until the end.
I glare at Melissa. “The only person who could convince Rebecca to invite me to her stupid party would be her very best friend in the whole wide world. The friend she dumped my ass for.”
“Yes, I told her to invite you,” Melissa says. “So, what?”
“Liss,” Piper warns.
“We thought it would be funny to tell everyone about you and Elliot,” Melissa finishes. “I convinced her to include you.”
“And you bought that? You thought Rebecca would humiliate herself to spite me? She was setting you up. That announcement she was going to make was not about me. She was going to out you.” I slam my h
ands together in a loud smack. It’s vicious, but it does the trick. Melissa flinches.
Then I realize I’m the stupid one. “Did you follow me?”
Piper cocks her brow. She’s hesitant to give anything away, but like Elliot, she can say more with her looks than she can with words. “You did follow me.” My brain is churning. “To make sure I was with the one person who wouldn’t vouch for me. Elliot. He was supposed to use Hunter as an alibi, but he screwed up, said he was with his sister. But, you girls were together. And then you took that moment to kill Rebecca.”
“That's not true,” Piper said.
“It is. But, why? It can’t just be this.” I gesture at them. Then I repeat Piper’s words, “Rebecca was a jealous bitch.”
Color drains from Melissa’s face. I continue talking, but mostly to myself. “Maybe it started off that way. Rebecca and Melissa were best friends. Melissa did the dirty work, kept the girls in line, like Ashley. But, then Piper comes along. And Melissa’s not around so much anymore. I squeeze through the cracks.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Melissa says, jutting out her chin, but it still trembles. “You’re just making shit up. That’s what the cops are going to think. You have motive. You’re sleeping with her boyfriend.”
“I didn't need Rebecca out of the way. I’ve been getting what I want for months."
“He’s ashamed of you,” Piper sneers. “He won't come to your defense. He won’t admit to being with you. He’d rather see you go to jail than admit he touches you.”
I exhale slowly. I can't combat her words because I think they’re true. But it doesn't matter because I’m not ashamed of who I am or what I do.
Melissa had weaseled me into this party so she could embarrass me until Rebecca revealed her hand.
Hunter was talking to Melissa in the garden earlier. He was trying to fix a mistake. What mistake? His mistake or hers?
Then it comes to me.
“Teddy Levine,” I whisper, but the girls hear me because their faces pale. “He was walking home from his job late at the quickie mart when he got hit. Pitch black night. No moon. Just on the other side of the county road from the liquor store where Hunter uses his fake I.D.” I point to Piper then. “Knowing Hunter, he was too wasted to drive, so you volunteered to do the beer run. You’re a junior with a license. So, what happened? You slammed into Teddy, left him to rot in the street, and then took off?” Piper is so still, so pale, she might appear dead herself if it wasn’t for her breaths, coming out in pants. “So far, then, it was only you and Hunter who knew what you did. Except, he told Rebecca. Why…?”
Why would Hunter blab to Rebecca about what Piper had done?
Two birds, one stone.
Hunter is so disillusioned. He must’ve thought that with Piper locked away, he could be with Melissa even though she doesn’t want him. Same for Rebecca. With Piper gone, she gets her lieutenant back, her underling. They both had the same goal, except Hunter didn’t anticipate one thing.
I stare at Melissa. “It wasn’t Elliot she was looking for when I saw her by the gift table, it was you. Rebecca wanted to tell you what she was about to do. That she was going to take away the one person you loved. As punishment.” I jerk my chin at Piper.
Again, they say nothing, but I know I’m right. “They’ll see through your shitty alibis, your lies. They’ll match the blue paint on Piper’s Corolla to Teddy’s body. They’ll figure it out. I just need to point them in the right direction.” I slide my phone from my pocket and wave it back and forth like a fan. Their eyes widen at the screen.
I’m recording.
The girls share a glance and I can see a split second decision being made. Their secret is too precious. One will hold me down, the other will strangle the life out of me. Just like they did to Rebecca.
And so I run.
I stumble over the same roots and rocks as I did when I had entered the woods hours ago. The girls are chasing me, their ragged breaths practically caressing my ears. They split off, coming around the sides. If they catch me, I'm done for. I grab the hem of my dress, hike it up, and sprint. I see the Greens’ house through a thicket of trees. I’m nearly to the street, but then someone tackles me from behind.
I fall forward. My knees hit the ground first, followed by my palms and then my cheek. Melissa is in my side vision which must mean Piper is on top of me.
She tugs my head up. A piece of slate sticks out of the dirt below my chin. She’s going to bash my head in.
I try to buck her off, but as I do, my scalp burns like someone set a match to it. “You kill me,” I say through gritted teeth, “then I’m not a suspect anymore. Rowell will look at you.”
“Hardly. You’re Carrie the class liar. You ran away. You were scared you’d be found out. You fell and hit your head.”
“Elliot will know,” I say.
“Elliot doesn’t care about you the way I care about her. He doesn’t love you.”
He probably doesn’t.
“Pip,” Melissa says, her voice shaking, unsure.
Piper turns to her and lets up the slack on my hair. “We don’t have a choice.”
Someone presses on a car horn, startling us all, before driving off. It’s enough time. I throw her off my back. She cries out. I scramble to my feet without glancing back. A stitch blooms in my side, and I'm drawing oxygen from mysterious places in my body. I can’t catch my breath to scream.
There's just one person I need to reach. Only one.
Detective Rowell.
When he and I collide, I double over.
Behind him, stands Hunter, who looks like he’s about to throw up.
Rowell glances past me at two figures, one in navy, one in light blue. Yet, both dark. His brows narrow.
He snaps his thick fingers in the direction of two uniformed police officers who corner the girls. Then Rowell grips Hunter roughly by the shoulder. “You’ll ride with me.” Hunter’s anguish deepens as he watches Melissa get taken away in handcuffs.
Rowell turns to me, his voice lacking the sharpness from before. “You're right,” he says. “I can tell when people are lying, but it’s easier when they fess up.” He places a soft hand on my shoulder and leads me to a patrol car. “Elliot admitted he was with you during the party and Hunter informed us about who was driving the car that hit Teddy Levine.”
I’m so surprised by this. I’m even more surprised that it doesn’t make me feel better.
“Let’s take you back to your mom,” Rowell says.
And for once, I'll be happy to see her.
About the Author
Kimberly G. Giarratano writes mysteries for teens and adults. Her debut novel, Grunge Gods and Graveyards, won the 2015 Silver Falchion Award for Best YA at Killer Nashville. She loves British crime dramas and political podcasts.
Connect with her via social media, or visit her website. If you’d like to know when Kimberly will release her next book, sign up for her newsletter here.
If you enjoyed Mean Streaks, please leave a review for it on Amazon, Goodreads, or wherever you review books.
Also by Kimberly G. Giarratano
Dead and Breakfast (A Cayo Hueso Mystery No. 1)
Ghost and Found (A Cayo Hueso Mystery No. 2)
Grunge Gods and Graveyards
The Lady in Blue (A Grunge Gods Mystery)
One Night Is All You Need
Mean Streaks Page 7