Literally Offed

by Eryn Scott

  “Okay, see you back there,” I said to Alex.

  Liv and I left him, making our way back to our site, glancing back to see two of the three rangers clomp out of the office and head toward the trail, walkie talkies at the ready, while Alex waited for the sheriff. I turned back toward our campsite, toward the promise of more caffeine to give me energy for packing and an unexpected trip home. But when we arrived, it appeared I was going to have some competition for that coffee.

  Crowded around Nate and Victoria were five of the guys from the next campsite. From their puffy eyes and disheveled hair, they appeared to have just woken up. I simultaneously felt a pang of pity for them—by the looks of it, they didn’t yet know one of their friends was lying dead in the woods—and fear for us—based on the fight we heard last night, one of these guys could very well be the throat slitter. Nate was handing out disposable cups of coffee and each guy’s face practically lit up as they took their first sip.

  What was Nate doing inviting potential murderers over for coffee? Should we tell them about their friend?

  My mind frantically went over what Alex would do in this situation. Would he say something? Would he try to investigate first? Also, even if I did want to tell them, what would I say? I wasn’t practiced in breaking news like this to someone, let alone a whole group of someones.

  Inwardly groaning, I settled in an open seat on one of the logs farthest away from our company. It definitely wouldn’t do to start packing our things up while they were sitting here. That would surely illicit questions. No, for now we needed to pretend everything was normal.

  From the stiff way Liv sat at the fire pit, I’d say I wasn’t the only one who was feeling the awkwardness of the situation. She grimaced, and her body scrunched in tight as her face seemed to follow those emoji scales for discomfort they hang in hospitals. Hamburger even seemed wary, sticking close to me when a few of our neighbors tried to call her over. Overly friendly by nature—my dog was used to hanging out at my bookshop all day, customers coming and going constantly—it was quite unusual for Hammy to pull the shy card. Could she smell the killer’s scent? Recognize it on the body she’d helped us find?

  My eyes were narrowed and decidedly shifty as they roamed over our visitors.

  Two more college guys schlepped themselves over during the time it took Nate to get mugs into all of our hands. Once I had coffee in front of me again, I began to breathe a little easier.

  “Anyone seen James?” one of the keg-stand crew asked, glancing back at their now-empty campground.

  My easy breath caught in my throat. Guilt clenched its terrible fingers around my gut as I wondered whether or not to say anything. Liv whimpered, looking like a strong eight on the discomfort scale.

  “Hey, you okay?” one of the guys asked Liv. His attention turned to me and from the worry which met me in his eyes, I guessed I didn’t look much better than Liv.

  “Uh, we’re… fine. We just…” I trailed off, not knowing how to finish.

  Nate cleared his throat. “We’re fine. But I’m afraid we have some bad news for you.”

  All at once, I made my decision. We definitely were not trained to tell these guys this level of bad news. Plus, the sheriff was on his way. I just needed to keep Nate quiet until Alex got back. He would know what to do.

  I glanced over at Liv, who choked on her coffee then coughed into her sleeve. I pressed my lips together. I made wide eyes at the man and tried to shake my head without the others noticing. But they were leaning in close, ready to hear the continuation of Nate’s statement.

  “This coffee is actually decaf,” I blurted out, shoulders bunching up like a bad pair of underwear. “Sorry!” I laughed too loud and tried to catch Nate’s attention.

  Confused by my reaction, the guys just blinked down at their coffee, some taking more tentative sips after my outburst.

  After a moment, another guy said, “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen James since last night.”

  The college guys scanned the group, as if this James might be hiding in plain sight.

  “You know how he gets sometimes, though,” a guy with a reddish beard said. “He’s always disappearing when he gets drunk.”

  “Grady’s right, he’s probably in a bush somewhere sleeping it off. Remember when we found him on a bench on campus the morning after his birthday?”

  They laughed and nodded, most of their worries settling at this reminder, unlike those of us who knew the truth.

  This was terrible. Sitting here, knowing their friend was dead and not being able to tell them was turning out to be a super weird form of torture. Liv looked green; she stared down at her coffee as if it actually was decaf. Even Victoria seemed like she wanted to say something to make it all better.

  If I couldn’t tell them, maybe I could at least get some information for Alex and the sheriff. Remembering the fight we’d overheard, I watched our guests closely for any signs of guilt. Half of them shook their heads, appearing confused, but what interested me was the other half. They sat up straight, muttered something unintelligible, or looked down at their coffees. They knew something.

  “I don’t think this is one of his normal disappearing acts.” A blond guy across from me glared at a large brutish dude next to him. “I think it has more to do with—”

  “Shut it, Kevin.” The brute curled his fingers around his paper coffee cup so tightly I worried the thing might burst, wasting precious coffee in a messy spray.

  Kevin put his hands up. “Just sayin’ I think you went too far this time, Matt,” Kevin continued, holding his gaze on Matt.

  I leaned forward.

  Matt glared. “James is a big boy, he was the one who decided to take off in the middle of the night. Plus, I searched for him for a good half hour. I bet he left.” The big guy shrugged.

  “But his truck’s still here,” a scrawny, dark-haired guy pointed out, worry lacing his words as he motioned to the grouping of the three trucks parked in the next campsite.

  A few of the guys began whispering.

  “I don’t know where he is.” Matt shoved his words through mostly clenched teeth. He placed a hand over his heart. “Swear.” He watched the blond guy as he took a long drink of his coffee.

  My pulse quickened. With that comment from Kevin, the cut on Matt’s lip and the bruise forming over his left eye, it was easy enough to see he was the one who’d gotten in the fight we overheard last night. I searched for him, Matt had said. What if he had in fact found James in the woods last night? Found him and slit his throat. I could see Liv’s fingers curl tighter, gripping the log she sat on as she listened to the conversation, reassuring me I wasn’t the only one noticing Matt wore guilt as obviously as his hangover.

  The guilt I was pretty sure about, but what he was guilty of still seemed up for question.

  Intriguing as Matt and his apparent fight with poor James was, I knew the most obvious suspect was rarely the guilty party. If every one of their friends witnessed Matt and James get in a fight, and then saw Matt head out into the woods in search of James, the guy would have to be a complete idiot to commit a crime. Of course he’d be everyone’s first suspect.

  Hammy chose that moment to venture forward, sniffing the newcomers and stepping cautiously as she inched closer to the nearest guy. He reached down and patted her head, scratching behind her ears. Her body relaxed and her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she began to pant and smile up at him. Seemingly reassured that these people were okay, she began to make the rounds, leaning up against each new leg, hoping for a pat or a scratch.

  Being tired and hungover aside—Hammy’s cuteness wasn’t something easily ignored—soon she had most of the guys vying for her attention. When she reached Matt, I tensed, watching and waiting. But my shoulders quickly settled as he smiled and patted her side.

  Just as I was letting my guard down, however, I heard a low growl roll out of Hamburger. It wasn’t directed at Matt, however. She was staring straight at Kevin, the blond guy who
’d accused Matt just minutes ago.

  Kevin tried to put his hand down and call her over, but Hammy only sniffed the air, sneezed, and then ran back to me, barking at him the whole way. Kevin’s face turn red and his gaze became shifty. Had Hammy smelled something on him or just sensed things were amiss? She’d only growled at a handful of people since I’d adopted her almost two years earlier. If she was feeling weird about Kevin, there was something up with the guy. It didn’t escape me that he’d been the first to point a finger at Matt when James was discovered missing.

  Often the first to lay blame was the real culprit, right?

  Quiet settled over the group, and even here in the fresh outdoor air, it felt stifling.

  One of the guys continued to glance to his left toward their campsite every few seconds. He had brown hair, but a reddish beard. His facial hair was on the long side, but well groomed. While his body language definitely made him appear relaxed, I was sure he hadn’t dropped the conversation about James. The way he kept checking gave me the distinct impression he was waiting for someone to show up at their campsite.

  And when the guys had drained their coffees and were just starting to look alive again, someone did.

  A forest-green sheriff’s SUV pulled to a slow stop next to their line of cars. The faces of our visitors either drained to pale or darkened with worry as they noticed the vehicle and the tall man stepping out of it. Alex climbed out of the passenger side.

  After saying something to the sheriff, Alex pointed to our campfire. They both headed our way.

  Clearing his throat, the sheriff said, “Which of you are from the next campsite over?”

  The keg-stand crew stood, some on noticeably wobbly legs.

  “Mind if I have a word with you boys?” I heard the sheriff ask.

  As they responded in the affirmative and followed him back to their site, I closed my eyes, knowing the bad news they were about to receive.

  4

  Liv pulled her shoulders up high in discomfort as she watched our neighboring campers receive the unfortunate news about their friend.

  “Ugh. I don’t think I can watch this.” She stood and then wandered away. “I’m going to start packing.

  Nate and Victoria wandered toward their tent as well, and as much as I agreed with Liv—this was awkward and awful—I found myself unable to look away. There was still a possibility that one of them had killed their friend. I had a feeling watching their reactions might give me some insight into who could be guilty.

  Just then, Alex plopped down on the log across from me, blocking my view of our neighbors. About to scowl at him, I stopped myself when he moved slightly to one side.

  “Can you still see?” he asked in a low voice.

  Glancing up, I nodded. “Yeah, if you stay just like that.”

  Alex winked. “This way it looks like you’re just talking to me.”

  I smiled, glad he wasn’t mad I’d been doing a little investigating. “The sheriff asked you to help, then?”

  Features tightening, he sighed. “Actually, the opposite. He made it pretty clear I was well outside of my jurisdiction. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make observations.” Alex trained his eyes on mine, keeping his back to the other camp. “Who are our suspects?”

  Whispering, I filled him in on what I’d noticed while he was with the sheriff. “I’m watching Matt, the biggest one behind you. According to the group, he and James got into a big fight last night. I also get a weird vibe from the one with the reddish beard. And then there’s Kevin, the blond guy. He was the first to point fingers.”

  “How are they taking it?” Alex asked, leaning forward.

  Pretending to look at him, I observed the varying reactions to the terrible news.

  “Matt is standing back. His arms are crossed and he’s all tight: face, body, eyes. He looks upset, in his own way. He reminds me of… never mind, it’s silly.”

  “What?” Alex asked.

  I focused on his face instead of looking past it. “He reminds me of Brooklyn, when she’s been throwing a fit about something and then she realizes she’s wrong, but she’s made too big of a deal to let go just yet, so she stomps around mad for a while longer just so it doesn’t look like she gave in,” I said. Alex nodded, having spent quite a bit of time with my five-year old niece.

  “Kevin is interesting, too. Hammy started growling at him. You know she never does that,” I said. I scooped my dog into my lap and then glanced over at the guys. “He almost seems like he’s playing a part. As if he’s auditioning for the part of ‘devastated friend number two’ and studied exactly how someone should react when hearing news of this kind. He paced for a while, shook his head, cried a bit, and now he’s sitting in a chair with his head in his hands.”

  Alex sighed. “Without knowing how close these guys actually were to James, it’s hard to tell if that’s a real reaction or not. Do the others seem to be noticing Kevin, watching him especially?”

  Understanding what Alex was asking me to check for, I said, “No, maybe it’s not an act, then. Maybe this is just how he always is.”

  “Or maybe everyone else is too stunned by the news they just heard.” Alex shrugged. “I don’t like how Ham reacted to him, though, so I definitely don’t want to discount the possibility that something’s up.” He reached forward and scrunched Hammy’s face with both hands just like she loved.

  I nodded. “Redbeard, I think his name might be Grady or Brady, looks like he’s about to puke.” I grimaced. “Like, seriously, the guy is gree—oh gross.”

  Alex frowned as he heard the sound of Redbeard throwing up into the bushes behind us. Hammy’s ears swiveled and she tilted her head.

  “Could be shock,” I said.

  “Could be guilt, too. Disbelief he actually went through with it,” Alex said.

  Clearing my throat, I focused squarely on Alex. “True. Well, should we start packing up?” I asked as I stood. I was anxious to get away from this place and get this whole ordeal behind us.

  Alex stood next to me and then wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me tight liked I’d wanted him to earlier. He planted a kiss on my forehead, and we turned toward the tent to start the process of leaving.

  Thirty minutes later, Carson had returned and the rest of us were all packed, besides our tents. Unsure what to do next, we stood awkwardly. The neighbors were still being questioned by the sheriff and his deputy who had taken a break from helping the rangers question the rest of the campers. And while I knew they probably wouldn’t even notice us, it just felt crass to start shoving everything in our cars to leave while they were going through so many terrible emotions.

  “Maybe we can wait for a half hour or so? Just until they start packing up, too?” I suggested.

  The group nodded and we congregated around the fire pit again. “Heads up,” Liv said. “Sheriff’s coming over here.”

  Alex’s face darkened. He left to meet the sheriff at the edge of our camp.

  They looked pretty similar, actually. Both tall, both dark haired, both wearing the serious scowls I’d come to associate with cops. The sheriff had a good decade on Alex, though—and he was wearing a hat which appeared more “cowboy” than anything I could ever picture my boyfriend donning. The hat was just the beginning of their differences, too. As Alex had mentioned, instead of appearing grateful another law enforcement officer was on the scene so early, the man seemed bothered by Alex’s presence.

  Alex moved aside and motioned toward our fire pit. “Here’s our whole group, this was everyone who was on the hike when we found the body. We were all together,” Alex told him when they got close enough.

  His badge read “Langley” and his face read “unamused.” Clearing his throat, the sheriff held up a hand. He eyed me and then looked back to Alex. “I’d prefer to get statements individually, rather than as a group.”

  I swallowed the scoff climbing up my throat. Separately? As if we might be hiding something? As if we were somehow suspects in
this whole ordeal?

  Movement in the surrounding campsites caught my eye. There were rangers and a few other officers walking around with notebooks, getting people’s information and asking questions, it appeared.

  Alex appeared to be equally confused by Sheriff Langley’s implication. Regardless, he understood his rank and put his hands up. “You’re in charge.”

  The sheriff flipped a page in his notebook. I could’ve sworn he muttered something along the lines of, “And don’t you forget it, buddy boy.”

  Feeling so far removed from my precious Thoreau-inspired quiet woodsy getaway, and a little too much like I was in some sort of wooded West Side Story—I mean, come on… buddy boy?—I stepped forward hoping to break the tension.

  “I can go first if you’d like,” I said, handing Hammy’s leash off to Alex and giving him an “I’ll be fine” wink before turning back to face the sheriff.

  Langley’s gaze landed on me and scanned me up and down like I imagined he would when presented with a new case file. Then his attention lingered on my body at little too long. I shivered. This case file was only wearing a T-shirt and cutoffs, wishing she had something to cover up with super quick.

  He shrugged and said, “Ladies first.” Without a thread of actual chivalry, he led me over to the picnic table away from the fire pit.

  As I sat at the table, Alex settled on one of the logs around the pit, perched like a hawk. Hammy jumped into his lap and settled in for a nap. Satisfied my boyfriend was as comfortable as he was going to get, I focused on my interview.

  “And your name is?” Sheriff Langley asked.

  “Pepper Brooks.”

  The sheriff’s eyes narrowed a little at my name. What? Did he think I was lying?

  He jotted down my name, then looked back at me. “Why are you here?” he asked, voice cold, gaze harsh.

  “Camping with friends. Vacation.”

  I almost expected him to snort and accuse me of lying. Instead he said, “Tell me about finding the body earlier.”