“Turns out she wasn’t too far off the mark. But it was your daddy that card was meant for. Not you and me, baby girl. We’re survivors.”
Survivors, I think, watching the ebb of Cassie’s chest, the soft push and pull of her breathing from the pillow next to mine. It would be time to wake her up soon. I counted her breaths until I reached the magic number. Thirteen. My first birthday without my mother. And I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if that fortune-teller had been right about all three of us. Our little family. We were all cursed.
****
It goes without saying, I skipped school that day. Heck, I figured if I planned to kill somebody, truancy was the least of my sins.
After breakfast, I slipped out the back door and made my way into the trees, hoping no one had been watching. The drainage tunnel was a short walk, but time stretched out, lazy as a cat, and I started to think I’d missed it somehow. The trees watched me with their identical faces, until I’d spun around so much I felt dizzy. I picked a direction and kept walking, sure now I was lost. Until I heard a low whistle.
Cassie sat at the tunnel’s entrance, poking at the ground with a stick. When I got closer, I saw what she’d written in the dirt. Happy Birthday, Evie.
“So I guess you’re officially a teenager now, huh?” Her smile had a tinge of melancholy.
“Thirteen going on thirty,” I teased, just to watch her brighten. But she didn’t. “Exactly like you.”
“Here.” She handed me a paper bag, my name written in marker on the front. “I made this for you.”
I joined her on the concrete lip of the tunnel and opened it, spilling her gift into my hand. “You only used good colors,” I said as she looped the friendship bracelet around my wrist and tied it tight. Not a trace of green in it. Her face scrunched in confusion, but she didn’t ask, only nodded as I held it out for both of us to admire. “Thanks, Cas.”
“There’s one more thing.” She produced a pink-swirled birthday candle and a lighter from her pocket. I suspected she’d stolen it from our Wal-Mart, slipped it out of the package when no one was looking. I’d seen her do that before with other things. Gum, cookies, makeup. “I don’t have a cake, but I figure you should still get a wish.”
She held it between her fingers and lit the wick. As I closed my eyes, the flame licked upward. And I thought of the twelve birthdays before this one. The wish I’d made since I’d been old enough to make wishes. Please let Mom get clean.
I needed a new wish now. I tried them on one by one.
Please make Bobby leave me alone.
Please give me some friends at school.
Please let me move out of the Port to a real home.
Please let me kiss Butch Calder.
Please kill Trey so I don’t have to do it myself.
“Geez, Evie. C’mon. My finger’s about to burn off.”
I stared at the flame with an aching in my stomach, because none of those wishes by itself would give me what I really wanted. Please, please, please, just let me be happy. Someday. I breathed deep and blew out the candle in one puff.
She gave it to me. “For luck. So your wish comes true.”
I held it in my hand like it was worth something, like it had the magic she’d claimed, and motioned Cassie deeper into the tunnel, where the moss grew thick and slimy on the walls, and a small pool of brown water buzzed with mosquitos.
“Did you think about it, Cas?” I swatted one on my arm, leaving a freckle of bright red blood. “Are you gonna help me?”
“I don’t know. Can’t you go without me?”
I sighed, guilt sucking me dry just like that mosquito. “We’ve been over this. He’ll never admit any of it to me. It’s gotta be you.”
“I don’t think I can do it.”
I grabbed her arm, squeezed it. “Of course you can. Listen to me. Trey is never gonna leave us alone. You or me. We have to do this. Together.”
“How are we even gonna get there? Trey’s place…it’s out in the sticks. Way out. I don’t even remember where.”
I patted my pocket. “It’s in Pinole. I have the address. Just leave the transportation to me.”
“What if Trey’s not there? Then what?” She picked up a rusted beer-bottle top and tossed it into the water. The mosquitos scattered, droning.
“You said yourself he talked about a party on Friday night, right? This Friday. Just before he got picked up by the cops…”
She made a noise that sounded like a whimper. It echoed through the tunnel, louder than the hungry mosquitos, louder than our voices. Impossibly loud. “But I…I just wanna leave here. I don’t even care what happens to Trey. I never want to see him again.”
“Then do it for me. And if you really want to leave, if you want to find your dad, I’ll give you the money I hid. The money Trey’s looking for. All of it.”
“You’d do that?”
“It’s yours.” I couldn’t even look at her when I said it. Because I knew she’d agree. Because I’d stooped as low as Trey, paying her to turn a trick. Because I owed her the truth. Somebody should know when they’ve agreed to be an accomplice to murder.
****
I laid in bed, the blanket pulled over my face, pretending to sleep. Beneath it, I wound a small strand of my hair around my finger and pulled until I felt the relief and the pain of separation. In a few hours, I’d be thirteen and a day. And a cold-blooded killer. Evil Evie through and through. Trey would be out of my life—but not just that. In a hole in the ground, rotting or burned to ash like Mom. Either, far better than he deserved.
I’d made a list and checked it twice. Literally, two checks. But only two.
One mini tape recorder. Check. I’d swiped it from the music room that morning.
One small plastic baggie of rat poison, ground myself with a rock from the backyard. Check. I’d planned on dumping it into Trey’s beer while Cassie had him distracted, confessing his sins.
A ride to Trey’s place, 10 Eagle Pass in Pinole, courtesy of Calder. No check…yet. I’d called his room at the Blue Bird, but he hadn’t answered, so I’d left a message, nervous and rambling.
Hi, Calder. It’s, uh…Evie. I know you’re probably really busy, but I was wondering if you could maybe give me and Cassie a ride. It’s kind of important. It…uh…it has to do with Mr. Excrement Face himself. Anyway, we’ll be waiting at the underpass by the mini mart near the Port around ten. If you can make it. Okay? I hope to see you. Bye.
After Cherice finished bed checks, I waited for Cassie’s whistle and whipped off the covers. I stuffed my pillows under the blanket, molding them to the approximate shape of me. Then I slung my backpack over my shoulder and climbed out the second-story window, shimmying down the drainpipe like I had nine lives.
Somehow, Cassie looked fearless and unpredictable. Real purdy, to hear Trey tell it. Exactly the way I needed her, and I bit back my jealousy. And my regret. Her brown hair glinted against her bare shoulders, her legs tan and lean in the cutoff shorts I’d loaned her. “What’s the plan?”
“I asked Calder if he’d give us a ride. But…”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “But what?”
“He didn’t answer. And he never called back. Still, I think he’ll be there.”
“You think?” I shrugged at her, embarrassed. “Where?”
She followed my gaze as I pointed up ahead, past the gas station to the underpass. “We can get Slurpees while we wait,” I suggested.
“Fine.”
Twenty minutes later, wild cherry coating the back of my throat like cough syrup, I finally said it out loud. “I don’t think he’s coming.” The disappointment clung there too, in my throat, and I thought I might cry.
“Of course he’s not coming. He’s not your boyfriend. You realize that, right?”
“I know.”
“Because you sa
id—”
“I know what I said.”
“So what now?”
I took a step toward the road and stuck out my thumb. “I guess we’ll just have to hitch a ride.”
Cassie stayed in the shadows, pressed flat to the wall like a lizard. When I turned back to look at her, she’d crouched to the ground with something in her hand.
“What’re you doing?” I asked her. Like a big dummy, a clueless kid. Not thirteen at all. As soon as I got close enough, I answered my own question with another. “You’re popping pills now?”
“If you want me to do this, I’m gonna need a little help.” She put one in my hand, the tiny M mocking me. I threw it as far as I could into the nightmare end of the underpass, dark and crawling with God knows what.
“Do you know what that is?” The noise from the highway swallowed my shout, turned my fearsome yell into something small and meaningless. “Where did you get it?”
“Where do you think?”
“It’s methadone, Cassie. It’s made from the same stuff as heroin. He wants you to end up just like her.”
She cocked her head all sassy. “I’m not your mom.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know you…did that.”
“There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know.”
“Such as?” But I didn’t want her to answer. Not really.
Her eyes narrowed. “Such as, I lied to you about that last day at the Blue Bird. I did what Trey wanted me to do. I had sex with a guy—a grown man—for money. For only fifty freakin’ dollars on account of it being my first time. When he was done, I left the room and I saw Trey getting arrested so I hid. I pretended it never happened.”
She tossed down the pill, chasing it with her Slurpee, gulping it so fast I knew she’d get brain freeze.
“You need a ride?” The voice came, disembodied, from behind me. It sounded harmless. Like no one I knew. No one I’d remember. And wasn’t that the truth?
Cassie nodded, pushing past me to talk to him, the swing of her hips meant to wound me. Anger burned my eyes as I watched her, and the man’s face blurred in the tears I blinked back. But I nodded too, somehow already knowing he was the one who would take us where we wanted to go.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
Evie
January 19, 2017
Thursday
All day, I dream of Cassie. Only Cassie. In my dreams, she’s dead. Pale and cold and stiff. And every time, upon waking, I startle with the thought of it.
Cassie is alive.
I pull Jared’s comforter over my head, leaving a space for the sunlight to seep. Cocooned in near darkness, I read the letter again.
The letter Cassie had written and mailed about a month ago. To my old apartment. It didn’t seem fair that it had to travel for weeks. After twenty-three years.
The letter I’d first read quietly in my apartment, police lights strobing outside. And next read aloud in the car outside the halfway house, with Butch coaxing me through it. We’d sat there until his curfew when I’d assured him I’d be okay—Macaroni had dispatched a patrol unit to Maggie’s—and watched him go inside, his steps stuttering and reluctant.
Now I can practically recite the letter from memory, but I hold it open anyway. There’s something comforting about seeing her handwriting, looping and bold and messy on the page. A little like Cassie herself.
Dear Evie,
I’m pretty sure this letter will be a big shocker for you. But I hope it’ll be a good surprise. Like the time we found that twenty-dollar bill underneath the overpass. It was so long ago that we knew each other and for such a short time, but sometimes it feels more real to me than anything…you and me. I saw it in the paper when you got married—eloped! And I cried for you when Jared died. And you’re a shrink now—damn, girl. You really did it. In some ways, I guess I’ve been living through you. And I wonder if you ever wonder about me. I wanted to call you so many times, but I didn’t want to drag you back there. To the past. And I figured you’d hate me for that night. You have every right to. Because I hate myself.
If I had listened to you, my whole life would be different. Trey would be rotting in prison—where he belongs—not here in the next room, drunk and passed out on the sofa. I wouldn’t have gotten hooked on dope, and clean again, and hooked again, and clean. Clean just over a month now. But also, I wouldn’t have a daughter. And that’s the only saving grace. Violet. That’s her name. And yes, Trey is her dad. A sorry excuse for one. He won’t even admit it, so I gave her my last name. My real one.
I hope you know how brave you are. Totally fearless. But me, I just didn’t have enough guts that night. And then Matthias pulled over out of nowhere to pick us up—I couldn’t remember his name then, but I’d seen him before at Trey’s party. He’d been nice to me. And I was such a fool, I thought he liked me, that maybe I could stay with him. Or he could help us. So I agreed to go to that stupid tree. The last thing I remember is seeing you up in it. Crouched in the branches like a little squirrel. But a safe one. I hope that wasn’t a dream.
When I came to, we were both in the back of Matthias’ truck, and you were totally out of it. He was freaked out too. Crying and blubbering and slapping my face. I guess he thought I was dead. Then Trey showed up—real angry. And you begged him to send you somewhere. Anywhere. You told him you’d give him the stuff he wanted, and I guess you did. Because I never saw you again. But one of us had to get away. And I’m glad it was you.
But now, it’s my turn to be brave. I’m done with this life. Done with Trey. Last week, I decided. But not for me. For Violet. She’s back living with me again. And that sick SOB said she should start earning her keep—you know what that means. Anyway, I couldn’t help but think of you and your mom. That’s why she wanted out, Evie. To protect you from him.
Nobody should have to go through what we did. So I’m going to the police. With all of it. And I’ve been hiding away my money, and Violet and I are taking off as soon as it’s safe. When we do, I’ll come and find you. And I hope you’ll forgive me.
Friends always,
Cassidy Kurchell (that’s my real name)
I cancel my clients, spend half the day that way. In Jared’s room with Sammy purring at my side. Sleeping. Dreaming. And reading the letter, awakening to my new reality. Cassie is alive. Knowing that, I feel better, but somehow worse. As if I’ve failed her—and Violet and myself—in a colossal way. Because it didn’t matter what happened in the past. What matters is what you believed happened. And everything I’d believed was wrong. But it had marked me, stained me. Like a water ring on an otherwise flawless mahogany table. Regrettable. And completely and utterly permanent.
Maggie stays away. Until the doorbell rings.
She raps on the door gently. Like there’s a monster in here with me that we shouldn’t disturb.
“Go away,” I mutter. Barely loud enough for her to hear.
“Those detectives are here.”
“I don’t care. Tell them I’m sleeping.”
“Evelyn. They’re here. Right outside the door with me.”
I sit up too fast, blood whooshing to my head and making me dizzy. “One minute,” I say. My voice sounds rusty and stiff, like it hasn’t been used in a while.
Sammy launches a few protest meows before he relents, jumping from the bed and slipping beneath it. Hidden from the world. The way I wish I could be.
My robe is right where I left it, discarded in a heap at the foot of the bed. I slip it on, secreting Cassie’s letter in the front pocket, and fling open the door without as much as a glance in the mirror. They wanted me, they’ve got me. And I hope I look as bad as I feel.
Macaroni and Munroe in the flesh. Right there in my face. But I turn to Maggie first. She shrugs, almost apologetic. As if she’d had no choice in the matter. “I tried to tell them you were…tired. But the
y need to talk to you. They told me it was important.”
Detective Munroe speaks first. “Could you join us in the living room?”
I follow them out into the world of the living, the rich hardwood awash in sunlight. I squint against the harshness of it. Macaroni pats the seat next to him, and I sit with Maggie on the other side. Too empty, too exhausted to think for myself.
“We checked your phone. There were no prints. None at all. It was wiped clean. And we sent a few units out to Trey’s early this morning.”
“And?”
“The property appeared deserted. Trey was gone. His car too.” He’s measuring his words or measuring me. Seeing how much I can handle. I’d done that before with Maggie when Jared got sick. Only telling her the moderately bad. Saving the unspeakable. With my patients too.
“What about Danny?”
There’s no missing the look exchanged between the two detectives. “You were right. We found the body newly buried in the woods behind the house. He’d been shot.”
Feeling vindicated, I crow over Maggie’s gasp. “I told you.”
“We also found another grave nearby. Another body.”
My thoughts begin to gather speed. Then, to race, breakneck. Until there’s only one way to end it. “Who?”
“A female. She was known to us as a prostitute and heroin addict.”
My brain comes to a firm stop. Frozen. And in the quiet space, an image. A memory. Cassie at the base of the tree, wobbling on shaky legs, scrambling away from the faceless man—he had a name now. “Climb higher, higher.” Her words, slurred. “Don’t come down.” He’d shoved her to the ground and smacked her face hard, stunned her. Then he’d unbuckled his pants, shoved them down to his thighs, and pressed himself on top of her.
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