“Stop!” Maggie attempted to shout, trying to call Becca to her senses as she covered her own face with her elbows as best she could and curled up into a ball as a knee jabbed her kidney. The door behind them shook, the voice on the other side more urgent now.
Of course, it was Mark’s voice.
Becca may have done her research, had planned every aspect without Maggie even catching on, making her feel dumb. But Becca had got it wrong; she had missed the real killer.
And that real killer may have just joined the party. With a boom and rattle, Mark forced open the door and stood in the doorway between the girls and the now deserted hall.
Blaming Maggie was the ultimate cover for Mark.
If she was getting enough oxygen to her brain and had time to think, she might have figured it all out then. It may have all come together at once, easily and fluidly, like those pictures where you can see two things but at first you only see one, then you stare at it and stare at it until suddenly there’s the second thing clear as day. But she did not have time. None of it mattered. Who was a friend, who was in on it, who wasn’t, who killed Amanda—none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was running.
She felt a burst of energy, forcing her legs to push forward but Mark’s wide body blocked the way.
“Maggie!” Mark grabbed her.
Filling her lungs, she screamed as loudly as she could. Mark tried to hold onto her as she struggled, she was determined someone would hear her.
Mark maneuvered her into his arms in a minute flat. Holding her against him tightly so she could not move, she was free to wail her head off. He turned them to face Becca, supporting Maggie’s entire weight as she went limp, trying to fall to the ground.
“Becca!” Mark panted. “What the hell are you doing?”
Maggie’s screaming abruptly stopped. She needed to hear this. Mark was not hurting her, she realized. In fact, he was being very careful not to, even though he had to hold onto her tightly. He had been trying to calm her down. She stopped struggling.
“The cops are giving up!” Becca shouted at him. “She’s guilty, Mark!”
Maggie squirmed again. Mark’s voice was the way it had been on the date at Jake’s as he whispered, “It’s okay, Mags. You’re okay.” He had a point. As long as Mark was sane and holding onto her with his massive body, Becca could run into them both at full speed and she probably wouldn’t be damaged.
Mark didn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure?” he questioned his friend. “ I scared the crap out of her and she didn’t come close to confessing.”
“But she said she wouldn’t say anything if you didn’t.”
“But that could mean anything.”
“So she’s smart. Are you really going to let her get away with it?” Becca’s hair was askew. She blew a strand angrily out of her face. Hands on her hips, she caught her breath, makeup running with sweat.
Maggie had been so enthralled with the new development she had completely missed that others had found them. Breathless, Tommy stepped into the room.
“Mark?” He eyed the damage to Maggie’s face and Mark’s grip on her, then asked carefully, “What’s going on here?”
“I’m proving she did it,” Becca explained as calmly as she had yet spoken.
“Mark, why don’t you let Maggie go?”
Mark’s voice sounded pained. “I—I’m protecting her.”
“She’s safe now.”
“No.” Mags felt Mark shake his head. “You don’t understand.”
“She did not do this,” Tommy told them as if he was 100 percent certain.
Becca jumped in eagerly. “She had a car on that road the night Amanda was hit. She would have been heading south, the way the car that hit her was driving. And she lied about it being in the shop. She creepily stole Amanda’s life. She destroyed her poster!”
“I did it,” said Mark, defeated, before Maggie could explain.
No one moved. No one breathed. Maggie watched their faces struggle to comprehend what their friend had just admitted. Maggie felt a thrill that quickly turned to horror.
Mark did not loosen his grip on Maggie. She made eye contact with Tommy for a second.
“I’m sure it was an accident, Mark,” Tommy said slowly, reaching to Maggie. “Let Maggie go and you can explain…”
“What? No!” Mark suddenly yelled. “No, I didn’t kill her! I could never live with that. Although, it is sort of my fault. I meant, I’m the one who tore the poster.”
Again, the room was silent. Maggie could hear the final class bell as voices were confined to their classrooms. She could not make out what they were saying.
“Why?” Becca finally breathed.
“I was jealous. I was furious. There was one picture of me and Amanda on that thing. I’d loved her since the third grade. We were friends. And then there was this lovey-dovey corner of her and Tommy, and it made me sick. Tommy was already over her! Dancing with someone else...
He went on, defeated, “the police don’t suspect Maggie, Becca, because I already told them I ripped the poster. They were suspicious because my story was that I was dancing with Mags.”
“Then, I don’t understand. Why didn’t they tell us that? To punish you?” Becca shook her head, her answers falling apart.
“They understood I was acting out of grief. Thanks to you giving them my alibi for when it happened. And they knew explaining it would just cause more gossip and pain. We agreed it was best to protect her reputation and…people’s feelings.”
Tommy was looking at Mark now, his beautiful eyes squinting.
Maggie actually felt Mark swallow before going on, “The poster wasn’t the only thing I destroyed. I left that note in Amanda’s locker. It was a secret. We met up to talk about, er, to talk about her breaking things off with Tommy and being with me.”
Tommy’s breath caught. He looked away.
“Things were going well until she backed out. She was scared to hurt him. I got angry; we argued. She insisted on getting out of the car. We fought about her getting back in, but she was stubbornly going to walk all the way back. I was so frustrated. I—I left her. And if I hadn’t,” he said slowly. “She’d still be alive. I’m sorry, Tommy. It wasn’t about you, man. I was jealous, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”
It was hard to read Tommy’s expression. He was frowning, but his face was on the empty hall. Maggie was too far away to see if what caught in the fluorescent light was tears.
“But you didn’t kill her!” Becca maintained. “She did!” Becca’s perfect, tan finger was pointed squarely at Maggie.
“She couldn’t have,” Tyler spoke up quieter than they had ever heard him, standing behind his brother.
Maggie found her voice too, then. She shook off Tommy and faced her accuser with her attitude back in full force: “Becca, I didn’t steal Amanda’s life. Her locker was assigned to me. I didn’t know you were her friend when I tried to make friends with you. I would never have joined cheer if you had not asked. I didn’t ruin the poster. I didn’t make up the note. Mark did.”
Becca shook her head, fighting the truth crashing down on her.
“I did lie about cheering to make friends, and I did lie about my car being in the shop so you wouldn’t make fun of me.”
“No,” Becca tried to stop it from happening, slowly realizing how wrong she was. Maggie only spoke louder, firm and even, standing alone.
“I don’t have a car.”
“You’re lying.”
“I don’t have a license. I do have a secret, or something I like to keep private.”
“Stop!” She actually clamped her hands over her ears, pulling her hair.
“I cannot have been driving. I have epilepsy.”
“I saw her have a seizure, Becca,” said Tommy coldly.
“Police confirmed it,” Tyler backed it. “Her medication and her seizure is why they eliminated her as a suspect.”
“But it all fit,” Becca gasped. “You wanted T
ommy and—”
“I do like Tommy,” Maggie admitted, glancing at the boy still looking away. “I can’t help it. I would have liked Tommy if Amanda were alive, to be honest.” She shrugged, still feeling a bit guilty.
“Sorry, Maggie,” Mark apologized.
She was relieved when she turned to see his normal face was back behind her, unthreatening and handsome. He really had reason to suspect her; she had suspected him too, after all.
“That’s okay,” she said before she was sure if it really was okay at all.
“But it’s not fair,” Becca lamented. “I have to know. I have to.”
Maggie turned to her. “Well, that’s not how life works, unfortunately, getting all the answers at the end. That’s why people read mysteries. They like all the pieces tied up because we rarely find out everything. Not really.”
“Do you have any idea?” Becca stressed, crying again. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to just lose someone completely, out of nowhere, the most important person in your life for no reason and be expected to just move on with no answers. No idea why. Or who. Ever?”
“Yeah, actually.” Maggie said without a hint of sympathy. She had gone to a damn Ouiji board for her own answers and gotten zilch. “My dad. I understand how it feels, Becca. But you can’t string up anyone you can make look guilty just to have an answer.”
Maggie didn’t get a chance to finish ranting because she was cut off by a terrible wailing. It wasn’t a person. It was the alarm again.
Chapter Twenty
The Answers
Without a word, Tommy grabbed Maggie’s hand and led her away from the others down the hall and into a janitor closet. He closed the door, putting himself between her and it, but he did not lock it. Maggie realized she had followed him without thinking that they were alone. The terrible noise outside, the emergency siren, was muffled by the thick door. She wanted to sit down, but the mop bucket was full and rather disgusting, so she leaned on the shelf instead.
“Did Becca tell you?” she asked him. “What she suspected?”
“Yeah.” Tommy looked at her sideways. “She told me. I knew you didn’t do it. I knew from the first time I met you.”
Maggie smiled. That was sweet, though his tone was serious. After all, he could not have known for sure she was innocent, not with all the suspicions Becca pointed out, not when she and Tommy were strangers. That was practically impossible. Practically.
There was something else nagging Maggie as she tried to go numb and leave that terrible revelation behind. Tommy’s face. When Mark had confessed his affair with Amanda, Tommy had been upset, maybe even angry, but one thing she could not say he had been was surprised.
Her heart beat faster and faster, swishing in her ears. Was it just the coming storm? Or was it possible that Tommy had found out they were going behind his back?
Was it possible he had followed them that night, not knowing Amanda was out on the road, walking?
Had he called his dad? Had his cop father covered it up as her mom had implied?
“Always look at the boyfriend first,” she heard her mom say.
Then, Tommy’s own words returned to haunt her memory: “I’m not always nice. I’m bad too.” She swallowed hard as the siren dwindled, the wait began.
Was all that stuff about Tom and Huck a diversion, or did he feel haunted too?
She spoke slowly and deliberately. “You already knew about Mark and Amanda, didn’t you?”
Tommy gave a dry, humorless snort. “She was hit out by Mark’s house at night. I knew from the moment they told me where she had been killed. That’s why I’m not a nice guy, Margaret. I was pissed. Part of me felt like if she hadn’t been out there cheating on me, she wouldn’t have gotten hit. I feel awful, but that’s what I thought.”
“It’s an understandable reaction,” she nodded. She had trouble getting enough air in her lungs. She could hear the rain and the wind pelting down on the school’s roof now. Whatever was going to happen, a false alarm or all hell breaking loose, was going to happen soon.
“Margaret, you know what you told Becca about sometimes the truth being better kept a secret?”
“Well, I don’t know. If I had told the truth about not cheering and not having a car, Becca might not have been friends with me but she wouldn’t have reason to suspect me and try to kill me either,” Maggie admitted. “And if Mark had been honest about how Amanda got out there, about the note, I might not have suspected him either.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “But you pointed out how sometimes it couldn’t undo what had been done, it could only hurt more people?”
Maggie’s mouth felt incredibly dry. If she could have she might have stuck her head out the window for a drink. But there was no window. She nearly choked as she was forced to swallow what felt like a wad of sandpaper.
If anyone had suggested Tommy might have accidentally or purposely killed Amanda thirty minutes ago, she would have probably slapped them like Mazy slapped Ashley Monroe. But thirty minutes ago, she also thought Becca was her best friend, not someone who had been plotting against her since they met, so what was her judgment, really?
“Margaret? Are you listening?”
The white noise was getting louder, either in her head or outside. But through it she heard him faintly.
“Tommy, do you know what happened to Amanda?”
Tommy sighed. After a minute, he said, “All I know is that night I was at home with my mom and Tyler.”
“I don’t know why my dad was that far out of town on rounds. I don’t know why Tyler left for a while in the evening. I don’t know which came first.
“All I know is that when Officer Cox asked my mom where Tyler and I had been all night, she said we had both been there, and when my dad came home hours later, he was as drunk as when he left.
“Maybe my dad hit her and called Tyler for help; he’s always been protective of my dad. Maybe Tyler was following Amanda and Mark to find out if she was cheating on me and had no idea she was on the road until it was too late, and he called my dad for help. Maybe the two by some miracle have nothing whatsoever to do with the accident, but that’s what it was—an accident.”
He looked at her, his beautiful eyes wide and earnest. His voice pleaded with her to understand. “I know it’s not fair. But I don’t want to know.”
He had just given her everything. She held the power to completely ruin his family. To the school, the newspapers, she’d be a hero. To her mom -the woman who had been a private eye since she became obsessed with her own ex-husband’s vanishing - maybe a chip off the old block,. It would mean justice for Amanda, answers for her family and for Becca. But it would mean the end of Tommy’s family. And it wouldn’t fix anything that had happened.
Maggie took a deep breath. Could she keep this secret? Could she really live the rest of her life knowing who killed someone and not tell another soul?
But that was the beauty of it, wasn’t it? She did not actually know. Tommy didn’t block the door or say anything else. He was leaving it up to her. Amanda was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The truth was, Maggie didn’t know anything.
“I don’t see how knowing what I don’t even really know is going to help anybody,” she said with finality.
Tommy beamed at her, eyes shimmering. “And you’re not just saying that because you like me?”
“Tommy Latchley, so long as I live, even if I end up hating your stinking guts, I will never tell anyone something I know only part of again.”
He leaned over for a split second and kissed her.
“There you are,” Mr. Garrett grumped, swinging open the door. “This is not the tornado safety location.”
Back in the hall where they were forced to sit as the damage was assessed and coast cleared, Maggie sat numb, her head buzzing with information and questions as conversations struck back up like normal in the hall.
“How did you all even find us, by the way?”
“Anna,” he
said.
“Anna?”
Tommy nodded. “Anna Peters overheard bits here and there, including Becca’s friends unable to sway her from going after you when the police ended their investigation. She put it together and came looking for you, but you had just left with Becca.
“So Anna blurted the whole crazy story to Mr. Garrett of all people who probably even scrutinized Santa Claus as a three-year-old. He somehow believed her and caught my dad. Then, she found me and Tyler, lied to get us out of English, and we followed, texting Mark because he was closer. You okay with Mark?” he asked as they watched the two other boys.
“Are you?” She raised her eyebrows.
He nodded, unsure. “Yeah. I kind of suspected him as well, so we’re even I guess.” The bell rang.
“Lunch,” Tommy joked. It was actually lunchtime, though that didn’t seem possible.
“Well, at least I missed chemistry.” This whole bright side thing really was not her style, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And if anything constituted desperate times, this and the French Revolution did.
Tommy held the door as they entered. “It will be weird,” she told him. “Not sitting with my friends. I guess they never were my friends.”
She pictured Sarah’s nice smile, the way she called Tommy for her that time, Mazy getting her chocolate milk, trying to fight Ashley for her at the dance. She didn’t think Sarah would risk her cheer squad for the diabolical plot; she took it way too seriously. And Mazy had a hard time hiding her true emotions. Maybe they had been her friends.
She wondered if there was any way they might hang around for a while, though her mom’s assignment was finished. But she knew better than to ask. Moving made her feel like she was doing something, like she was getting closer to answers even if she was just going in circles around a question mark.
It was natural to want answers and people went crazy sometimes just trying to find them, suspecting their friends or traveling around the world. Some people just accepted it or pushed it out of their minds. Some people read mysteries.
Keep Your Friends Close Page 27