Relief flooded through her. “Ash,” she murmured. He pulled her up, pressing her back against the wall and steadying her with his warm hands.
“What’s wrong?”
Even as she choked out the words, she hardly believed them herself. “Peter—he’s dead. In the hot tub. Just floating. Not moving. Dead. And Zeke—he—”
“No, Lexi”—he placed one palm on each side of her, protecting her—“Peter’s not dead. He must’ve passed out. You know how he is, always has to be the dude who drinks the most.”
She blinked away the picture of Peter’s floating body.
But it came right back.
Her head rolled to the side, her vision filled with bodies—moving slowly down the hall, standing still, writhing, and surrounding them all was the constant boom and bass of the music echoing its way from the media room. She looked back to Ash.
“Come on.” He took her out of the hall, set her on one of the soft, brown leather chairs in the dark living room. When one of the couples broke apart and asked what was wrong, Lexi realized she’d been sobbing softly. Instead of answering, she just stared ahead.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Ash said to the couple. They shrugged and turned back to each other, their lips connecting as their arms wrapped around each other. Ash let go of Lexi and stepped back. “Stay here,” he said, then left her there, in the dark.
Alone.
She closed her eyes, sank deeper into the chair, waited.
But when Ash came back, he didn’t stop for her. He jogged past, tapping his cell as he pushed his way down the hall to the media room. Troy leaped up from one of the dark corners and took off after him.
The music stopped, kids rushed past, anxious to face death waiting for them on the deck. Guys started shouting. Zoë appeared out of nowhere, crying, her round face turning red.
Lexi’s breath hitched in her throat, her vision turned hazy.
“Troy. Don’t let Zeke leave,” someone shouted. “The cops have to do that CSI stuff.”
Shrill screams pierced Lexi’s ears. She gasped for air, struggling to get a grip on herself. Then everything went dark.
Chapter Eight
Too Late to Be Sorry?
Thin, misty fog hugged Ash’s Mustang as it rolled down Grove Avenue. Traffic lights passed overhead like hazy neon stars, guiding the way to the cop station. They’d left the radio off, so the hum of the engine as he shifted through the gears was the only sound as the houses blurred past. They’d left the party only minutes ago, but Lexi’s sense of time was warped.
The scenes frozen in her mind could have been from days or months ago, or even something that she’d imagined. Peter’s angular body spread across the floor, his handsome face bobbing in the water. Zeke’s white, emotionless face as he puked. Coke oozing across the tiles like fizzing blood.
The cops were going to ask questions. She scrambled to put the pieces of the night together, like where she’d been before going out to the Weinbergs’ garden room, how long she and Zeke had been apart. How long she’d been with Monica. What they’d talked about.
A fresh roll of fear crashed through Lexi.
Monica.
That conversation couldn’t be part of her story.
Then a question. What had Zeke been ready to tell her? Did Monica have a secret? Tapping into her thoughts, Ash said, “The detective’s going to want to know everything. You remember what happened?”
“I’m trying, but it’s all jumbled together.” She snuggled closer, wanting his strength and desperately wishing the part with Monica hadn’t happened. “The only thing that’s clear is you picking me up.”
Keeping his eyes on the road, Ash nodded.
A whisper of guilt slid across her shoulders. She should call her mom, tell her where she was headed. Dale or no Dale, her mom would want to know.
Holding in a sigh, she dug out her phone.
Ash glanced over, eyeing her phone. “Who’re you calling?”
“My mom.” She tapped the screen and it blinked, casting a faint glow across Ash’s face.
“There’s nothing she can do.” He looked back to the road. “Don’t you think you’ll just freak her out?” When Lexi’s fingers wavered above the screen, he added, “I didn’t call mine. She’ll just ask a bunch of questions you can’t answer.”
Her mom would take that a step further and pull Dale into the mix. Within seconds, he’d have her convinced that the whole thing was Lexi’s fault, like she was some sort of demon child. Her mom would start crying. That drama was the last thing she needed.
“You’re right.” Lexi tossed her phone back into her bag, closed it and rested her arms on top.
With an easy bend of his wrist and a smooth downshift, Ash turned right onto Pine, and she settled into his protective silence.
Soon he was easing into a spot in the nearly empty station lot. The pale, ghostly gleam of the spotlights flickered through the darkness. He lumbered out, strode through that bleak light to come around and open the door on her side, but she stalled as a new question popped up in her mind.
Did she have to tell the cops that the last time she’d seen Peter was when he’d ditched her at the movies? That was two nights ago so maybe not. Telling them that would lead to telling the whole story and that would get Jazz into serious trouble. And it wasn’t like telling would bring Peter back to life, anyway.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get it over with.”
She took Ash’s outstretched hand, let him pull her from the car, and they went through the automatic doors.
A gray-haired, uniformed cop lingered behind the long front desk, flipping through papers and glancing at the monitors in front of him. As they moved forward, he watched them with watery eyes, his mouth pulling down into a frown. His badge caught the fluorescent light, sending a flash of warning to everyone around.
Ash went straight up, pressed himself against the counter. “We were at the party. We need to speak to someone. Right away.”
“Name?” the cop asked, looking bored as he reached for a clipboard stacked with forms.
Ash tipped his head. “This is Lexi Welks, she found the guy in the hot tub.”
The officer paused, took a longer look at them, then pointed to a row of chairs against the wall, his expression still flat. “Sit over there. No talking. No phones.”
The man stepped sideways, keeping one wary eye on them, and reached for a phone. After they dropped into some seats he made a call, saying little, waiting a lot. As each minute passed, Lexi’s heart beat faster even though a strange weariness settled over her. The images of the night began to blend together. How could it be so quiet? A sixteen-year-old kid was dead, and it was like nothing had happened.
Time passed. If only she could just go home, crawl into bed and pull the covers over her. Beside her, Ash shifted in his chair, crossing and uncrossing his legs. She waited for him to look over at her but his gaze stayed forward, focused on a group of potted plants circling a trash can. A rack of magazines, mostly about sports cars and outdoor sports, hung beside it.
The time that passed could’ve been minutes or hours. Lexi’s mind went blank, her body numb. It was as though she simply couldn’t think about what had happened any longer. She leaned over, put her head on Ash’s shoulder. He was her hook to reality, and she let her thoughts of the night gently fade until the officer appeared in front of them and barked, “Come with me, both of you.”
Ash took Lexi’s hand and squeezed it as they got up to follow the cop down a short hallway, away from the cozy paneling in the reception area to the back of the station. The man paused at the doorway of a cramped, bare room and turned to Ash.
“You wait in there.” He gestured to a pair of blue plastic chairs squared beside a scarred wood table.
Ash’s eyes grew dark, his mouth dropped, but before he could speak the officer steered him into the room and shut the door. When his gaze connected with Lexi’s through the small meshed window in the center of the door, new fea
r gripped Lexi. The officer turned to her. Cold sweat dampened her neck.
“I think I need to call my mom.”
The man ignored her, guiding her down the hall, his heavy-soled shoes thudding against the solid floor until he stopped by an office at the end. The room wasn’t like the tiny, sparse one like Ash had been placed in.
“Wait in there,” he said, his uniformed shoulders stiff as he gestured to a chair.
Lexi slipped in, settled into a padded gray chair across from a cluttered desk, then waited until he’d shut the door to take out her phone. Two rings later, Dale was on the other end even though she’d called her mom’s phone.
“Can I talk to my mom please?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
“What about?” After a few seconds he added, “Why don’t you talk to me instead?”
She cringed.
“Please, Dale.” She spun her fingers through her hair, willing herself to stay calm, praying her voice sounded normal enough that he’d stop questioning her. “I need to talk to her. No big deal.”
“She’s asleep. I’m not going to wake— Are you in trouble again?”
Lexi held in a moan. “No. I just need to talk to my mom.”
“You sound like— Have you been drinking, Lexi? Are you drunk? Did you take some pills?”
Why had she even bothered calling?
“Forget it.” She clicked her phone off so he couldn’t call back.
What an epic jerk.
The room was hot, the air stifling. The waiting miserable.
Why was she waiting?
What, exactly, was she waiting for?
Tight knots formed at the nape of her neck, gripping her shoulders and creeping down her spine.
Trying to distract herself from the dark tension squeezing its way around her ribs, she looked around. The stuff on the walls looked like props for Law & Order—a thick stack of black-and-white wanted posters, some bus schedules, maps. She tucked her legs under her and stared at the brass nameplate on the desk. Detective Waxman.
Her gaze grew fuzzy, pictures of the night tumbling through her head. Events flipped through her mind as though the clips had been spliced together by some guy with ADD. Everything was out of order and blended together.
Did Zeke kill Peter? It made no sense. Did they even know each other? He must’ve just found him there, already dead. But how could that have happened? Peter hadn’t been at the party. Had he?
“Lexi Welks,” a voice cut in, saying the words like a label instead of her name.
Lexi blinked and nodded to the tiny woman with short brown hair coming into the room. The woman stopped, stood next to her, patting her right sleeve, then her left.
“Dry,” she said softly to herself before bending down to smell the fabric.
By the time Lexi realized what was going on, the woman had moved over to sit behind the desk. She introduced herself as she swept aside a pile of papers, files and clipboards, then leaned in. “You were wearing that shirt when you went into the hot tub?” The woman’s coffee-colored eyes glowed so intensely that her cheerful floral blouse looked like a mistake.
“I didn’t go into the hot tub.” Lexi explained how she’d changed into a suit then covered up with her own clothes, finishing with, “So I was wearing the shirt when I went into the garden room.”
The detective nodded and made a note. “Why did you leave the party before the officers arrived?”
“Ash thought it would be a good idea.”
“Ash Carpenter is the person you came to the station with. Correct?”
Lexi slid her leg out from under herself and squared her shoulders. “That’s right. He drove us here.”
Again the woman nodded and made some notes. Then she began a series of questions. After double-checking Lexi’s address, age, school and grade, she said, “Tell me what happened.” Leaning back, she set a keyboard across her lap. The detective stared at Lexi, her expression still unchanging.
Starting with what had happened after she’d talked to Monica made the most sense. With that resolved, Lexi unwound, describing Spaz and Shortie being themselves in the kitchen. After telling about them, she started to explain the scene at the hot tub, but the desk phone rang, cutting her off.
The detective snatched it up. “Detective Waxman here,” she said brusquely, her vigilant gaze skimming across Lexi. She tipped her head while the person on the other end spoke, then murmured, “Yes, she’s here.” And after a pause, she spoke louder. “You’re sure?”
The woman’s lips flattened, her eyes poker-faced as she locked gazes with Lexi.
Lexi’s stomach clenched as the woman continued to listen silently.
Monica had talked.
Told them about her being with Peter on Friday. If she’d told them that, there was no telling what else she’d said, how far back she’d gone. That girl would do anything to get what she wanted.
Without another word, the detective hung up.
“That’s where you were, in the kitchen, when it happened?”
Lexi’s heart thudded, that tension around her ribs came back. “I guess so.”
The detective made yet another note then asked her to continue telling her what she remembered. By the time she got to the end, she’d remembered most of what had happened, and it seemed so much more real. Zeke was in Cheery Grove. Monica had a secret. And Peter was dead.
“Your account appears to check out. That was one of the investigating officers. Tony Jackson and Scott MacArthur remember you coming into the kitchen, everyone remembers you sitting in the living room, and your clothes are completely dry.” Detective Waxman lifted the keyboard off her lap and set it on the table. “We’re done for now, Miss Welks.”
That was it? No questions about Friday night?
Lexi scooted forward. “I can leave?”
Detective Waxman stood. “I assume since you’re in school and a minor, you won’t be leaving town.”
“No, no, I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, getting to her feet.
The woman tipped her head toward the door. “You may leave. We’ll be in touch.”
Lexi bolted down the hallway, her eyes fixed on the red exit sign shining like a beacon above the automatic doors.
“Hey, hold on,” Ash called, jogging to catch up with her.
How could she have forgotten about Ash? Lexi waited until he caught up, then they went through the doors together. The night air was fresh against her skin and breezed away that awful grip on her ribs.
Once they’d stepped into the parking lot, Ash took her arm and stopped her. “It was pretty crappy, huh?”
“No, it was okay. It was a lady. She asked a bunch of questions, made me tell her what happened. She was all business, but she was cool about it.”
“The good cop routine,” Ash grumbled under his breath, glancing at the doors they’d just come through. “They act like that to make you say stuff so they can use it against you later.” He started walking again, scowling as he guided her forward. “She tried it with me, but I didn’t tell her a thing.”
“She talked to you?” Lexi asked as they reached his Mustang.
The car beeped when he hit the key and the interior lights flashed.
He jerked open the driver’s side door. “Yeah, why do you think it took so long for her to get to you?”
She climbed in too, put her bag on the floor and clicked the seatbelt. His face stayed stony, eyes dark.
“Right,” she replied, even though she wasn’t sure at all about what was going on. Peter dead. It shouldn’t be true, but it was. And Zeke? What had happened to him? Monica?
Ash turned over the Mustang’s engine. Its rowdy rumble vibrated through the air as he peeled out of the parking lot. The tires squealed as he threw the wheel, taking the turn as sharply as the car would allow. Lexi watched him from the corner of her eye, but his expression didn’t give any clue to explain his mood.
Was he pissed because he’d been questioned too?
Sad for
Peter?
Scared for Zeke?
She tried to shake off the tension crackling between them, but it was impossible. If she had no idea where it’d come from, how could she make it go away?
Silent minutes crawled by. Hoping to snag his attention as he pulled up in front of her house, she set her hand on his leg and curved her fingers around his thigh. “Thanks again—for everything. I know taking me down there wasn’t, um, fun, but thanks.”
He looked at her hand, the anger in his expression fading as he set his hand on top of hers. “Let’s drive around for a while, okay? I’m not ready to go home.” He looked past her shoulder toward her house. “I don’t think you are either.”
Except for the kitchen, all the windows were dark. What if her mom had woken up and was worried about her? Dale would be right there, saying a bunch of lies, that’s what. And she’d have to deal with it. Besides, with the windows all dark, the chance that her mom was awake was slim. “Driving around sounds great.”
Ash put his hands on the wheel and hit the gas, the engine roaring once again as he shifted through the gears. They cruised down the empty street to the corner, then turned left. Lexi dropped back, shut her eyes.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Doesn’t matter, just driving around is okay.” She liked being tucked in Ash’s car, away from the world.
“Sounds good to me.”
The Mustang hugged the road as he turned, humming as he accelerated.
“You can count on me, you know,” he said after a few beats of silence. “I’m good at listening.”
Her mouth softened, but still she didn’t open her eyes. “I know.”
“Then tell me what’s going on.”
So that’s why he’d been mad? He thought the police were playing games with them. “I can’t believe Peter’s dead. He—”
“No, not that. I saw the way you were looking at your house, Lexi. You need to trust me, tell me what’s really happening. With you. With your family.”
Best Friends Never Page 9