The Haunted

by Danielle Vega

  “‘I’m so sorry.’” Finn made his voice high-pitched. “‘So, so sorry.’”

  A guy Hendricks vaguely recognized from their lunch table snorted and shouted, “Yeah, so sorry he hung himself in the living room before the police could arrest him!”

  Hendricks’s stomach dropped.

  What?

  A few people laughed as Finn glared at him. “Dude, I was getting to that part.”

  Hendricks found that she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t realize the girl’s murderer had killed himself in her house, too. She didn’t realize he’d been the girl’s own brother.

  A sour taste filled her mouth. She had a sudden, terrible vision of what had happened: Kyle Ruiz kneeling in the cellar, covered in blood, his eyes menacing. A little girl lying, motionless, on the floor in front of him. And then Kyle climbed the stairs to her living room. Found a rope—

  Something tugged at her brain: Ruiz, she thought. Where . . .

  The memory came to her suddenly. Raven looking at her, scandalized: please tell me this guy you’re talking about isn’t Eddie Ruiz?

  The cup of beer suddenly slipped from Hendricks’s fingers and hit the dirt, spilling everywhere. Raven jerked back. “Shit!”

  People turned, their eyes going wide when they saw who was standing outside the circle. Finn muttered something that sounded like “Sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out.”

  Hendricks barely heard him. Nerves crept up her arms.

  Was Eddie hiding his name because he didn’t want her to know that the girl who’d been murdered in her basement was his little sister? That his brother had killed her, and then killed himself?

  “Excuse me,” she muttered, pushing through the crowd of people. The staring and the whispering . . . it was too much. She needed a moment to catch her breath.

  The woods were just ahead, looking enticingly dark and isolated. Hendricks made a beeline for the trees. Dead leaves crunched beneath her feet. An owl hooted overhead. Hendricks didn’t stop until she was sure she was out of sight of the rest of the party. Then, she propped an arm on a tree trunk and doubled over, breathing hard. She could feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, not for any particular reason but for all of them.

  She didn’t want to live in a house where such gruesome things had happened. She didn’t want to know that Eddie’s little sister had died in her basement, and that his older brother committed suicide just a few feet from where she watched television and ate dinner. It was awful enough knowing any of this had happened at all. It was so much worse knowing it had happened to someone she knew.

  Stupid tears, she thought, angrily brushing them away.

  Behind her, a twig snapped.

  Hendricks straightened and whirled around, heart pounding. Connor was standing in the trees, holding two cans of beer.

  Shit. Had he seen her crying? She tried to nonchalantly wipe her face with the sleeve of her coat. “Oh, hey.”

  “Figured you could use this,” Connor said, handing her a can of Natty Light.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He nodded into the trees. “Want to take a walk?”

  Hendricks shifted from foot to foot. It felt like a pity walk, which made her want to refuse on the spot. But getting away from the rest of the kids at the party sounded okay. She cracked her beer and shrugged. “Sure.”

  “That wasn’t about you, you know? That story, or the way they were all staring,” Connor said as they wandered through the trees. “Nothing too interesting happens in this town. I mean, other than the murder, and now you moving here. They’re all just curious, that’s all. I’m curious.” Then, blushing, he added, “About you, I mean. Not the murder.”

  Hendricks glanced at him. She couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit charmed by the color rising in his cheeks.

  She’d been worried that he’d be insulted after she turned him down. She studied his face now, looking for signs of frustration in his jawline, the possibility of dark thoughts moving through his brain.

  But he only twisted the tab of his beer, shuffled his feet through the dead leaves. Maybe he wasn’t the kind of guy who let rejection turn him ugly.

  “Okay, shoot,” she offered. “What do you want to know?”

  Connor smiled. “You’re going to let me quiz you? Really?”

  “How about this, I’ll match you question for question. Deal?”

  “All right, deal.”

  “Then go for it.”

  Connor pursed his lips and propped a finger at his chin, like he was pretending to think. “Okay. Siblings?”

  It was such an innocent question that Hendricks found herself smiling and looking down at her shoes. “Just the one,” she said. “You remember I was watching my little brother Brady when you guys came over? He’s eighteen months old.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Connor’s eyebrows went up. “Big age difference.”

  Hendricks shrugged. “Yeah, well, my parents had me when they were really young. They’d never say it out loud, but I’m pretty sure I was a surprise baby. They were still in college, and they got married really quickly after. I think they wanted to wait until they were ready for number two. Do things right.”

  “Scandal,” Connor said, but his voice was lighthearted. “Okay, my turn now, right? I have three older brothers and a little sister.”

  “Four siblings?”

  “Right? It’s crazy, but my parents were like yours, they started early. Unlike yours, they kept going.”

  Hendricks laughed out loud.

  “Amy’s the youngest,” Connor continued. “She’s only five, and she’s practically an angel.” He laughed, then ran his hand through his hair. “A bratty angel who always has scabs on her knees, but still. And then, let’s see, Patrick is three years older than me. He’s at St. Joseph’s now—that’s only like forty-five minutes away, so he still comes home for dinner most nights. Donovan skipped college, and he’s helping my pop out at the auto shop. My family owns O’Flannery’s Cars? It’s this garage up by the highway?”

  “That’s cool,” Hendricks said.

  “Yeah, so Donnie’s helping my dad over there. And Finn’s a senior this year. He wanted me to tell you that he’s sorry for bringing up the murder back at the bonfire. He wasn’t thinking, and that house has just been empty for so long.”

  Hendricks nodded. “I didn’t think he saw me standing there.” Then, wanting to keep the subject off her, she asked, “So what’s his plan? College like Patrick? Or auto shop like Donnie?”

  Connor grinned. “Auto shop for sure. He’s good with his hands, but he’s never liked books or sitting still. And he and my pop and Donnie get along real well.”

  “What about you?”

  Connor looked at his feet, blushing again. “Ah, well, I don’t know. College seems cool, but this place is my whole world, you know?” He knocked shoulders with Hendricks playfully. “Or maybe you don’t know, you being a big-city girl and everything. I just don’t think I could leave my brothers. It would feel totally weird being all on my own. Like losing a limb or something. Even living forty-five minutes away, to go to St. Joseph’s, seems too far.”

  Hendricks was quiet for a long moment, thinking. She might not have a big family of brothers to look up to, but she could still remember a time when she’d thought like that, when the idea of going to a new school in a new city was completely unfathomable.

  She released a deep, sad sigh. Now everything was so different, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss her old life. Connor got it right. It felt like losing a limb. The ache of it kept her up sometimes.

  “Philly was home for a long time for me,” she admitted, finally looking back at Connor. “Maybe it wasn’t a small town, but I know exactly what you mean. I’m not sure I’ll ever fit in here.”

  They’d circled through the woods and made their wa
y back to the quarry’s edge. Hendricks peered into the black water below, wondering how far the drop was.

  Twenty feet? Thirty?

  Connor cleared his throat. “You know, there is one thing you can do to become a real Dreary resident.”

  He nodded at the water.

  Hendricks laughed, certain he was kidding. “It’s like fifty degrees out!”

  “Everyone who lives here has jumped in the quarry. We’ve all been swimming here since we were in diapers. It’s a rite of passage.”

  Hendricks chewed on her thumbnail. She snuck a glance at Connor. She was still pretty sure he was joking—

  But what the hell?

  She shrugged off her coat and handed it to him. “Hold this?”

  He took it but looked a little confused. “Hendricks, come on, it’s way too cold.”

  Hendricks gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Everyone who lives here has done it, right? You don’t know me that well, but I used to be a bit of a daredevil.”

  She felt a spark of joy as soon as she’d said the words out loud. It was true. She hadn’t thought about this in years, but back before she’d started dating Grayson, Hendricks had a reputation as the girl who’d try anything. She used to be fearless. It made her a little sad to think about it now.

  Where did that girl go? she wondered. She missed her.

  And so she crept up to the edge of the cliff, the toes of her sneakers sending tiny pebbles crumbling down and down and down. Black water glimmered below her. She swallowed. It was a dizzyingly far drop.

  “Hendricks.” Connor touched the back of her arm with his fingertips. “You don’t—”

  But Hendricks would never know what he’d been about to say because, by then, she was already flying through the air.

  CHAPTER

  11

  Hendricks sank into the black water, pressure mounting in her ears, her clothes quickly growing heavy. She closed her eyes, enjoying the silence.

  Then she began to kick, pumping her arms to make it back to the surface.

  A second later, she heard another splash.

  She broke through the water gasping for breath, and a moment later, Connor appeared beside her.

  “You jumped too!” she exclaimed, treading water.

  “You thought I’d let you go alone?” His chin dipped below the water for a moment before he pushed himself back up. “Let’s get out of here! It’s freezing.”

  “Race you to the shore?” Hendricks offered, eyebrow going up.

  “You’re—” But Connor started swimming before he finished.

  “Cheater!” Hendricks called, paddling after him.

  Soaking wet and laughing, Connor and Hendricks ran back for the coats they’d left at the edge of the woods, and then hurried to his car, an old beat-up Honda Civic with a cracked windshield that was parked at the edge of the woods. Connor unlocked the door with trembling fingers, while Hendricks waited at the passenger door, jumping up and down and shivering.

  “Come on come on come on,” she said, until she heard the click of the door unlocking.

  They both threw themselves into the car, and Connor jammed the keys into the ignition, twisting the heat up to high. Hendricks shrugged off her hoodie and kicked off her shoes, leaving them in a sopping pile at her feet. Her shirt was thin but would dry much faster.

  Hendricks closed her eyes and rested her head back against the seat, exhaling. Heat hissed through the vents on the dashboard, slowly coaxing feeling back into her arms and legs.

  “This car used to be my older brother’s,” Connor told her, teeth chattering. “Well, it was my mom’s first, and then she gave it to him.”

  “Which brother?”

  “It was Pat’s, but then he and Donnie fixed up this 1970 Plymouth Roadrunner, so he drives that now. And then Donnie drove it for a while, but he got my dad’s old Ford truck last year. So now it’s mine.” Connor’s smile widened. “We call it the mom car. We all have to drive it at some point.”

  “Finn doesn’t get a car?” Hendricks asked, silently congratulating herself for remembering all of Connor’s brother’s names.

  Connor snorted. “Finn has a Vespa. It was his act of rebellion when he turned sixteen.”

  “Getting a scooter is an act of rebellion?”

  “You’d get it if you knew my dad. Cars are life.”

  Hendricks grinned, picturing what it must be like at Connor’s house: the older brothers and the close-knit family with parents who really cared whether you chose to ride a scooter or drive a car. Her parents cared about her, of course. Hendricks knew that. But their house sometimes felt so empty, with just the three of them and Brady. It must be nice to have a really big family.

  She turned her head to the side. Connor had one ear pressed to the headrest, and he was looking right at her. The car’s heater had fogged the windows.

  Their faces were really close.

  Hendricks was suddenly aware of how alone they were. She swallowed and said, “So, um, what kind of car would you get if you could get any car in the world?”

  Connor’s face broke into a wide smile. “You really want to know?”

  Hendricks nodded.

  “A Mustang,” he admitted, sheepish. “My dad had one back in high school. There are all these old pictures of him posing with it, but he sold it when he and my mom got married, so they could put a down payment on their house. He says he never regretted it, but he still has a framed photo of himself with that car on our mantel back home.” Connor shrugged. “I think he’d be weirdly proud if I drove one too, you know?”

  “That’s really sweet,” Hendricks murmured.

  “You think so?” he asked. But he was staring at her mouth, clearly distracted.

  Hendricks tried to remember what they were talking about, but her mind had gone completely and perfectly blank. Her gaze lingered on the curve of Connor’s lips, and her heart stuttered as he leaned closer, bringing a hand to the side of her face. His palm was warm and a little damp.

  Their first kiss tasted like lake water and bonfire smoke. Hendricks felt it tingle through every part of her body. She brought her hands to his chest.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, pulling away.

  Hendricks frowned. “Why?”

  He released a deep sigh. “Because you said you weren’t interested, and I promised myself I’d respect that.”

  Hendricks felt her shoulders grow tight, but he didn’t say this like he was trying to make her feel guilty, or like he was pointing out how inconsistent and crazy she was being. He seemed too confident to play games like that. She felt a sudden rush in her chest and realized, for the first time, that she really liked him. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from her jump in the lake or the beer making her head go fuzzy, but she couldn’t remember why she’d been so reluctant to agree to a date.

  Clean slate, she thought.

  “I never said I wasn’t interested,” she said.

  “You changed your mind about that date?” Connor said.

  Hendricks raised an eyebrow. “This wasn’t the date?”

  Connor gave her a withering look. “How could this be the date? I didn’t even buy you dinner.”

  “Not every date includes dinner.”

  “Mine do.” The green glow of his dashboard lit up his hands on the steering wheel, and the rumpled lines of his damp sweatshirt. “So I’m going to drive you home now instead of trying to get to second base.”

  “How very old-fashioned of you,” Hendricks teased. But she was grateful he was cool with going slow. She didn’t think she could handle second base right now.

  They pulled onto a narrow dirt road, lined with trees. The wind caused the branches to sway eerily. Watching them, Hendricks couldn’t quite convince herself that someone wasn’t hidden just behind the tree trunks. Waiting. She shivered.

&nb
sp; “Are we anywhere near the famous tree house?” she asked.

  “The one that looks directly into your bedroom?” Connor grinned. “I’m trying to forget its exact location. Don’t want to get any ideas.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  Connor slowed his car, approaching a stop sign, and put on his turn signal. “It’s through there,” he said, pointing.

  Hendricks squinted, but it was impossible to see anything past the first line of trees in the dark.

  Connor turned the car onto another narrow road, and the woods whipped past her window, a shadowy blur of leaves and branches and—

  Eddie.

  “Connor, watch out!” Hendricks said, grabbing his arm. Eddie was walking along the side of the road, his shoulders hunched up around his ears, his hood pulled low over his head. It was almost impossible to separate his all-black uniform from the shadows.

  Connor swore under his breath and swerved to the side, his car’s tires rolling off the edge of the road with a sudden jolt.

  Eddie looked up as they drove past. The car’s headlights had hit him square in the face, illuminating his dark eyes and the unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. Hendricks wasn’t sure if he’d spotted her sitting in the passenger seat of Connor’s car, but she could’ve sworn she saw a smirk twisting his lips.

  And then he was behind them.

  Hendricks leaned back against her seat, her heart beating hard. She didn’t think they would’ve hit him, but it had been shocking when he’d just appeared out of nowhere like that. And, Jesus, what kind of person wandered around narrow dirt roads in the woods in the middle of the night? Wearing all black? It was like he had a death wish.

  She waited for Connor to make some awful comment about Eddie or his brother, or what happened to Maribeth, but Connor just shook his head, whistling through his teeth.

  “Man, I’ve always felt so bad for that guy,” he said, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror. “If something happened to my little sister, I’d never get over it.”

  There was a sudden rushing sound in her ears. Once again, she found herself picturing Kyle Ruiz kneeling in her cellar, blood dripping from his hands. Maribeth Ruiz lying, motionless, on the floor in front of him. Only now they both resembled Eddie.