by April Henry
He covers his face with his hands.
“And it’s true I had access to my grandpa’s truck that night. And that my memory is spotty. I drank a lot that night, and I never drink. I must have gotten blackout drunk. Luke said I was telling dirty jokes at the party and doing other stuff I would never normally do.” I’m not going to detail the bit about my hand under Luke’s shirt. “Maybe I’ll never remember. But I’m starting to think the police are right. I must have done it.”
Taking his hands from his face, Charlie pats the air as if comforting me from a distance. “Okay, I’ll admit it doesn’t look good, but there’s got to be an alternative explanation.”
“I was trying to figure out who could have done it. I even went to that I-Spy Shoppe and bought this pen that makes secret recordings. I tried to confront Mr. Conner and Mr. Hardy. I even talked to Mrs. Rasmussen about her husband. But nobody admitted anything. They were mostly just mad at me.”
“Adele!” Charlie winces. “You were taking a huge risk doing that. You could have ended up just as dead as Tori.”
“It didn’t really matter.” My laugh is bitter. “I should have just held the pen and interviewed myself.”
Charlie’s inner geek gets the better of him. “Do you have it? What’s it look like?”
I get my backpack from the floor, unclip the pen, and hand it to him. “You can actually write with it. It’s voice activated, so I guess it’s even recording this.” I unscrew it and show him the USB inside. “You just plug that into a computer, and you can download it or listen to the recording.”
“Can I listen to it?”
“Sure, I guess.” I put it in his long-fingered hand. “Only what’s the point? With Tori’s shoe and hair in my grandpa’s truck, the answer to who did it is pretty clear.” I poke myself in the chest. “Me. Even if I don’t remember.” My voice breaks on the last word.
Charlie hesitates, and then says rapidly, “Now, don’t get mad, but is there any chance it could have been your grandfather?”
“What? No!” Except for a second, I find myself remembering the angry way Grandpa talked about Tori. But it doesn’t add up. “He thinks I did it. He keeps looking at me with tears in his eyes and shaking his head. He wouldn’t do that if he was really the one who did it.” And then I think of the clincher. “Besides, haven’t you noticed his hands? He’s got arthritis. They hardly work at all. I doubt he could even hold on to the rope or whatever it was that killed her.”
Charlie doesn’t look completely convinced. “Have you noticed any bruises on the edges of his fingers? Or anyone else’s fingers?”
“No,” I say slowly. “Why?”
“I’ve been doing some reading.” He takes his headphones out of his pocket. After raising one knee, he loops the cord around it, then wraps the ends once around each hand to tighten it. He pulls back hard. After he releases the cord, he holds out his hands to show me the lines it left on his pinky fingers. “It’s pretty common when the ligature is narrow for it to leave bruises on the outside edges of the killer’s fingers.”
I hold out my untouched hands, fingers spread, and turn them back and forth. “Maybe it wouldn’t leave any marks if you were wearing gloves. Which I wasn’t, but I doubt they’d believe that.”
“But I believe you, Adele.” His eyes are steady on my own. “Maybe it’s not logical, but I do. I may not believe you can talk to the dead, but I don’t think you killed Tori.”
I sigh. “I didn’t even see Lisa when I was talking to Geiger today. Maybe I am all messed up, Charlie. I mean, parts of Saturday night are a blur.” I look away from his warm gaze. “I must have really done it. Occam’s razor and all that.”
MONDAY, DECEMBER 3, 4:49 P.M.
ALL MY NERVE ENDINGS
Twenty minutes after Charlie leaves, there’s another knock on the door. I figure he’s come back. But when I open it, Luke is standing on our welcome mat. His gloved hands hold a bouquet of pink and white roses wrapped in green florist’s paper. At the sight of it, a flood of warmth runs from my scalp to my toes.
Then he opens his mouth, and I realize what an idiot I am.
“Hey, I’m on my way to visit Tori’s grave, but I thought I’d stop by first and see how things went with the cops today. When I left, they told me you were already gone.”
I let him inside. “Everything was okay up until the point Geiger showed me photos of what they found in the back of my grandpa’s truck. A sandal and some red hair.”
“The truck?” Luke stills. “But you rode your bike to the party.”
“Yeah, but my grandpa’s friends picked him up that night to go bowling. I guess it’s possible that I came back and got the truck. That’s what the police seem to think happened. And that sandal in the photo sure looked like the ones Tori was wearing that night.”
He presses his lips together. “There has to be another explanation, Adele. Maybe someone planted them.”
“The simplest explanation is that I did it. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I got drunk, blacked out, and then killed her.”
He shakes his head. “Did you tell the cops that?”
“No. Not yet. I don’t want it to be true, but I think it has to be.”
Luke closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he opens them again. “I don’t believe it,” he says decisively. “Besides, if they really think it was you, then why did they keep badgering me? They even told me you were saying I’d done it.”
“What? I never said that.” Relief washes over me. “They were lying to both of us. They told me you were telling stories about me.”
Luke stabs the air with his index finger. “If they lied about that, maybe they were the ones who put that hair and shoe in your grandpa’s truck!”
“It might be legal for them to lie. But it’s a big step from that to planting evidence.” And Lisa said Geiger was a good cop, but it’s hard to figure out how to work that into conversation. Assuming there even is a Lisa.
“So it’s okay for the cops to tell a lie to trick people into telling the truth? That’s still messed up.” Luke pushes back the hair that’s fallen over his eyes. “You and me, we’ve got to stick together. If we do that, then they’ll have to figure out who really killed Tori.”
I nod, grateful that Luke believes in me. Right now, even I don’t believe in me.
He clears his throat. “The other reason I stopped by is that I have a favor to ask.”
“What?”
He looks down. “Will you go to Tori’s grave with me?”
I take a half step back. “I don’t think I can.”
“Please.” His voice cracks. “Please, Adele, I can’t do it alone.”
“My grandpa will be worried if I’m not here when he comes home.” Then I remember about his truck. “Although I guess that won’t be for at least another hour, now that he has to take the bus.”
“We won’t be gone long.” Luke raises the bouquet. “I just want to put these on Tori’s grave. I’ve been thinking about her all day. I mean, sure, things were rough between us, but she didn’t deserve what happened.”
In the end, it’s not so much his plea that decides me but the thought of Tori seeing him and the flowers. It will mean so much to her to know that Luke still loves her.
“Okay. Let me get my coat.” I also loop a scarf around my neck to camouflage any whispers to Tori.
Outside, it’s still raining. “Sorry,” Luke says, “I parked across the street. I didn’t know if there’d be any spaces in your lot.”
Once we get in, Luke hands me the flowers to hold. I sniff, but they must be greenhouse grown, because they don’t smell of anything.
The cemetery is just a couple of miles away. I’ve never been inside the grounds. Before I started taking medicine, I used to see an old man emerge from a grave near the fence whenever we drove by. Dressed in a hospital gown, his cheeks sunken, his eyes drilling into me until I closed my own.
I sense more than see the old man as we pull into the
lot. Pain stabs my temple, but I tell myself I can do anything for a few minutes.
There’s a chain across the road that leads into the cemetery and a sign saying it’s open only until sunset. The sun has just slipped under the horizon. There’s still some light, but it’s fading rapidly.
“I guess we can’t go in,” I tell Luke.
“It will only take a few minutes.” He gracefully steps over the chain, but I have to steady myself by putting my hand on his shoulder to cross.
We head up the hill. My eyes are adjusting to the fading light, but even so I have to be careful. The cemetery is old, so rather than just metal plaques lying flat against neatly trimmed grass, there are elaborate granite and marble tombstones and statues, as well as trees, ponds, and fountains.
And for me, there are the dead. All around, people begin to push their way out of the earth. Some eagerly, some so slowly I can tell they don’t want to be awakened. An old man in a plaid shirt and worn jeans, his face mottled and gray. A gaunt young woman in pink pajamas, her dirty-blond hair hanging in strings around her face. A nine- or ten-year-old kid so broken he shouldn’t be able to stand, yet he does.
All of them have their eyes fastened on my face.
Most are as solid as the living. A few have wavering edges. An old man who walks out of a marble tomb the size of a small garden shed is nearly translucent. Some of the dead stretch and yawn, scratch themselves absently. Some stare at me, looking confused.
And they all begin to talk.
“Is someone here?”
“Is it the rapture?”
“Who woke me?”
“It’s that girl,” the old man by the fence calls. “She can see us.”
The thing is, I can see less and less. Not just because it’s dusk, but because of the pain in my head. If it felt like an ice pick with Tori and Lisa, now it’s a stainless steel spear.
“Come on, Adele,” Luke says over his shoulder as he starts to walk on the grass. “Her grave’s just up here.”
He ducks under the nearly bare branch of a maple tree, and there it is. A raw brown rectangle of dirt. There’s no stone yet, but a bouquet of white flowers is stuck into the ground at the head.
And then Tori climbs out of all that dirt without disturbing a single grain. There’s not a smudge on her perfect alabaster arms and shoulders. Even the rain just bounces off her. It’s like she’s been sprayed with waterproofing. She practically glows.
“Luke! And Adele?” She looks from me to him and back again. “Why are you here with him?”
I whisper through the scarf over my mouth. “He didn’t want to come alone.”
Stepping forward, she strokes Luke’s face. “Baby, can’t you hear me? I miss you so much.” Her voice breaks.
Oblivious to her, Luke kneels at the top of her grave and begins to unwind the green paper from around his bouquet. Tori stands over him and rests her hands on his shoulders. A container set flush against the ground already holds a bouquet. He’s trying to stick his in with it, but there isn’t room for both.
On all sides, more dead are appearing. A woman holding a toddler on her hip. A man in a three-piece suit. A family of five, all of them except the mother with hawklike noses.
Luke has pulled out the other bouquet and laid it on the ground. Now he replaces it with his own.
“Oh, Luke.” Tori drops to her knees in front of him. She’s ugly crying now, or it would be ugly crying if her body could still make tears.
Getting to his feet, he swipes at his knees. For a minute he and Tori overlap.
“Oh, Adele, don’t cry,” he says, reaching out to me. My right eye is leaking from the pain.
“Even if I didn’t do it, it’s still my fault. I set everything in motion. If I hadn’t kissed you…”
He pulls me close to him, his mouth against my ear. “What happened that night—it made me realize I was done with her. Maybe I messed up, but it was only once. Tori wanted me to forgive her for all the things she’s done.” He snorts angrily. “When she sits on other guys’ laps and kisses them. Right in front of me. Or dirty dances with them. And then the next day she always cries—cried—and said she was sorry and that she didn’t remember. Which is such a lie.”
“What?” Tori says angrily.
I pull back so my words aren’t muffled by his shoulder. “It’s possible she really doesn’t remember. She has—had—blackouts. From drinking.”
She’s standing behind him now, her hands fisted on her hips.
“So? Does that excuse her? She still did those things. It’s not like someone put a gun to her head.” He gives me a crooked smile. “Just like I knew what I was doing when I kissed you. I’ve always liked you, Adele. But because I was an idiot, I didn’t want to say anything. I was still trying to be loyal to Tori. But that night, when I realized who I was hiding with, I couldn’t stop myself. I just had to kiss you. And damn the consequences.”
Wait. Luke kissed me?
Tori stamps her foot. “You jerk! I’m not even cold in my grave, and you’re trying to hit on my friend.”
While she’s talking, I run back through the last few years. The way Luke’s eyes never quite focus on me. Has he just been protecting himself, not admitting his feelings?
“Tori and I, we were on our last legs, but I denied it. Denied how I felt about you. But I can’t deny it anymore.” He bends his head until his lips touch mine.
“Wait. What? No, it’s too soon,” I whisper, putting my hands on his chest but not really pushing him away. I close my eyes so I don’t see Tori or any of the other dead. I ignore the pain in my head.
“No, it’s not. This is the only life we have, and we don’t know when it will end. What if we’re like Tori, dead tomorrow?”
Luke’s lips are so soft, but then they press into me hard. I freeze. My heart pulses in my ears. My skin feels tight. It’s like I’m dwindling, like there isn’t enough air.
“I can’t believe you two!” Tori says.
I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve spent years watching Luke. This is what I wanted, right? Luke finally lifts his mouth from mine, his lips trailing kisses around my throat. He gathers my hair, pushes down my scarf, and starts to kiss the back of my neck.
He moves behind me. Now the only things connecting us are his lips on my nape. It’s like all my nerve endings are concentrated there. Tori keeps protesting, but I can’t pay any attention.
And then suddenly something scrapes down my face and viciously yanks me backward.
MONDAY, DECEMBER 3, 5:18 P.M.
NOWHERE TO GO
Luke is doing his best to strangle me, yanking back on the cord or rope or whatever it is that’s now around my neck.
“It was you!” Tori screams. “You’re the one who killed me!”
Swearing, she begins to pummel him, but the pressure around my throat doesn’t ease. It’s clear Luke feels nothing. Hears nothing. But when one of her blows misses him, pain explodes in my jaw.
“You’re just like Tori,” Luke hisses in my ear. “Don’t know when to be quiet.”
With my left hand, I manage to grab what I realize is a leather dog leash on the far side of Luke’s gloved hand. I try to pull it away from my neck, but Luke is stronger than me. The layers of my scarf offer a scant cushion, and the leash is over my trachea, not my carotid arteries. From what I read online researching Tori’s death, these two things mean I will have a little more time than she did.
Not that that’s going to make any difference in the end.
“Stop it, Luke!” Tori screams. “Don’t!” Around us, other spirits are beginning to comment and call out, encouraging me to fight.
“We were making up that night but then she told me about Mr. Hardy. About how he was a real man, not a boy. She wouldn’t stop talking. I just needed her to shut up.”
“It didn’t mean anything!” Tori’s voice breaks.
I twist and turn and tuck my chin, desperately trying to find an angle that will still allow oxygen to g
et to my brain. I kick backward, but my foot just glances off his shins.
He shifts his grip, and the leash tightens even further, making me cough. “I can’t go to prison. I’m going to college. The cops are already looking at you. When they find your body hanging over Tori’s grave with that list you wrote in your pocket, it’ll all make sense.”
My vision starts to dwindle like water swirling down a drain.
“Shh, Adele, shh,” Luke whispers, his breath warm on my ear. “Don’t struggle. You’ll only make it worse.”
It would be so easy to give up. To stop. To get it over with. I feel my body start to go limp.
“Adele!” Tori screams in my face. “Don’t let him do this!” And then she slaps me.
The shock of it wakes me up. My eyes fly open. I arch back, pushing the top of my head hard under Luke’s chin. The pressure eases infinitesimally, allowing me to turn my left shoulder into him. I remember Justin at Tori’s party, demonstrating how to fight.
Drawing back my right hand, I make a fist. Then I punch Luke in the throat as hard as I can.
A grunt is forced from his mouth. The leash loosens as he bends double. He braces his hands on his knees, coughing and gagging.
“Run, Adele!” Tori shouts. “Run!
I throw the leash to one side as I start to run. My eyes have adjusted to the dark, but where should I go? I could try to make it back to the deserted parking lot, but that’s where Luke will expect me to go.
I risk a glance behind me. He’s still bent over, but it’s not like I knocked him out. Pretty soon he’ll be after me.
“Help her, you guys!” Tori yells. She’s stretched to the end of her tether. “Tell Adele where to hide. Tell her where to go. Save her from the guy who killed me!”
I’ve spent years denying that the spirits of the dead existed. Now I need their help.
The woman with a toddler on her hip points up the hill. “Go that way.”