Charlotte didn’t respond, didn’t give her the benefit of any reaction. “Girls,” she called over her shoulder, “it’s time to go home.”
Molly looked her way, but Whitney had her earbuds in, lying on a lounger, sunglasses on even though it was nearly dusk. Neither moved from her seat.
“Ruby,” Charlotte said, in case she would listen to Charlotte instead, “I think it’s time for you to go.” Loud and firm, for all to hear. What she would’ve said the second Ruby walked into her house. Strong, where I was weak.
And that was when Ruby turned. Like all she was waiting for was a switch. This moment. Something she could weaponize.
“Why are you all acting so afraid?” she asked, arms extended to the expanse of us. And then she laughed. “I know why you’re all scared. It’s not because of me. It’s because of your little lives, with your little problems, and your little worlds. You’re afraid that no one will even notice if you’re gone. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the dog, would any of you have realized something had happened to the Truetts?”
We had always avoided them. Happier not to run into them out front, to hear their complaints or see their condescending looks. The barking dog had been the only thing I noticed.
“Fucking cowards,” she said, and even Preston’s date flinched. “I know what you did.” Her gaze moved so fast, over all of us, I couldn’t be sure who she was talking about.
“All right.” Mac broke the silence, stepping forward. “Come on. Let’s go talk.” Hand on her arm.
She jerked her arm back. Brought it forward again into an accusing point. “And what about you, Mac? Aw, shucks, I don’t know,” she mimicked. “I mean, maybe my girlfriend is a killer. I can’t say for sure.” She gave him a slow drawl, a lazy affect. “My life can remain exactly the same, either way.” A step closer, and I got a chill. “I can still go three doors down. Get laid without leaving the street.”
“Ruby, come on. Come walk it off,” Mac said.
“Walk what off, Mac? Walk the last fourteen months off? Walk off my anger that all of you, every single one of you, conspired to have me convicted of a crime I did not commit?”
Silence as we all stared back. The thing she had finally given voice to, unavoidable now. An open accusation that the Truetts’ murder was not at her hand but at one of ours. But I wasn’t on her side anymore, and the drinks had steeled my nerve. I saw what they all saw now. The things Ruby was capable of. A liar. A dangerous liar.
“Preston told me,” I said, because it was the only thing I could do to alter the course, redirect the train wreck of this conversation. “He told me about you and Aidan.” Ruby turned my way slowly, blinking once. “God, Ruby, you had me fooled. But you really are a terrible fucking person.”
Her lip twitched. “He was an asshole,” she said. “And nothing even happened, Harper, I swear. Though not for his lack of trying. I told him I’d tell you, and what did he do? Ran, to save face. Your fiancé? Please, he was making a fool out of you. I did you a favor. Not like anyone else did for you here.”
She stepped closer, one eyebrow raised. Like she was giving me one last shot to change course, rethink my side. And then she shook her head. “And this one, I mean, seriously?” She gestured around the group. “Is it the big brown eyes that have everyone fooled?” She widened her own eyes in a play at faux innocence. “Has no one thought this was odd? That she takes the job of the guy killed next door and my boyfriend?”
I shook my head as if I could deny it. People looked down, looked away.
“I see you,” Ruby said, softer now. “I see everything about you, Harper.” She was up in my face. I was tired of being pushed around by her. I was so, so angry. Not just about her actions; anything could be forgiven if you chose to forgive. And the past, with Aidan, was so long ago. But because of the way I found out, from Preston. That sharp, hot humiliation—the thing that made me ache with the need to push back. To do something.
I pressed my hand to her shoulder and shoved. Hard enough that she stumbled. “I took you in,” I said as she regained her footing, eyes wide from surprise.
“Oh, like hell you took me in. You’re just too scared to tell me to go. And why, Harper? Why is that?”
“What are you saying?” I asked. Because if she said it, I could defend it. If she said it, I could accuse her. An equal and opposite reaction. “You think I hurt them?”
“No, I don’t think you have it in you.” She said it not as a compliment but to imply a lack of backbone, a lack of agency. “I think you’re an opportunist, Harper. That you only know what you don’t want. I don’t think you can ever be happy as yourself.”
My eyes burned under her unflinching gaze. Something stirring in the wake of her words. Something too close to the truth. The way I had crafted myself in reaction to something else: in contrast to Kellen; to Aidan; to her.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I said, the words barely audible. Out of this party, out of my home, out of my life.
“Come on, Ruby,” Mac said once more, arm out like he was the one who could calm her. His hand made contact with her arm, and she flinched. “Don’t,” she said, and I wondered suddenly how much he had hurt her. How much she had the capacity to let herself be hurt. I’d thought she didn’t have it in her anymore. That she had hardened herself, by necessity, for her survival.
“Please,” he said, and this time she followed him. Out the pool gate, down the trail, to the water’s edge. I couldn’t see them clearly through the trees. Couldn’t tell whether she was taking a few deep breaths or whether he was talking her down. What she was saying in response. Until I saw her head lower, her shoulders contract, and her body retreat into Mac’s chest, where his arms wrapped around her back.
In the silence, Tate refilled the container of lemonade from her cooler under the table. “I see she hasn’t changed,” she mumbled, and someone laughed, the tension dissipating.
My hands still shook from the adrenaline, and I felt lost, ungrounded. Ruby’s words returning again so I could see myself only as she might. Seeing only what I didn’t want to be. What I couldn’t be. A career helping others begin the next stage of life but neglecting my own in the process. Staying on the same path, letting the momentum carry me, so I wouldn’t have to look too closely.
“Harper?” Javier had taken over at the grill, flipping the burgers. “Cheese on your burger?” He tipped his head, his dark eyes friendly, like nothing had happened. Like we were all expected to resume our roles now; we’d settled something, dealt with it, and could continue on.
My stomach rolled. “No, thanks,” I said.
I looked around for my blue mug, which I’d left on the white folding table, but I couldn’t find it. I only saw the purple one, left on the concrete, behind a chair; Ruby must’ve misplaced hers and taken mine. I rinsed hers out in the water fountain, where Charlotte was refilling two plastic cups for the girls. She gave me a sympathetic smile as I scooped up the water, letting it run down the back of my neck. I filled the cup with Tate’s lemonade after—it really was the better one.
Preston stood beside me, held out a bottle of vodka. “Tell me when,” he said as he poured.
“When,” I said, but he kept going. Gave me a knowing grin. Chucked me on the chin like I was a kid who needed a pick-me-up.
I followed his gaze to where Mac and Ruby were walking back up the path, side by side, in silence.
Whitney called out to Preston from the lounge chair, plastic cup held forward. “Me, too, please.”
Preston smirked and rolled his eyes. “Think again, little one.” And she did, giving him a glowing grin, holding out her cup once more, smiling at his husky laugh as he turned away. A cycle I’d seen before.
Charlotte passed behind me a moment later, squeezing my shoulder. “You okay?” she asked, leaning close—closer than she’d ever been. The way I’d imagine she’d whisper to her daughters, something private and comforting.
As if, finally, I had earned my way back into the fol
d. The price: shame and public embarrassment, for which I would be welcomed with shoulder pats and chin taps, words of encouragement, the knowledge that I was one of them now.
I nodded, reached a hand for hers, and squeezed back.
Ruby and Mac drifted apart as they passed through the pool gate, neither looking my way. I drank half the cup in several large gulps, then found myself leaning back against the iron bars, Chase beside me.
“Hey,” he said slowly, like he was testing me out. “I’m sorry about last night. I went about it the wrong way.”
“Did you know about her and Aidan?”
He turned away, staring straight ahead. “God, that was so long ago. I heard rumors, yeah. But I heard rumors about a lot of things.”
“Did Mac know, too?” I watched him across the pool, standing off to the side, by himself. I wondered if I’d underestimated him. Whether he knew my weak spots and exploited them.
There was a boys’ club here, I could see that now. Even back when Aidan was here, with Javier and Preston and Chase. They’d known he was going to leave before I did. God, even Paul Wellman was probably a part of it. Mac must’ve known. The groups in this neighborhood were not by household unit. They never had been. Those might fracture and strain. But there was a web below that held us together. Held us in place.
Chase’s gaze followed mine to the crowd watching the sky with anticipation. “I don’t know what Mac knows. Never did. He’s not really one for gossip.” He took a deep breath. “Listen, Harper, I need to explain, what you heard that night…” He cleared his throat. “When I said Keep it simple, it was about this stuff. Some of the guys back then wanted to bring up all these rumors we couldn’t prove, but they weren’t really relevant, other than showing she was a pretty shitty person. But that’s all smoke and mirrors and detracts from the simple truth. The solid evidence. And maybe I overstepped because I live here and you all know me, but I thought I was doing the right thing.” He turned to face me. “I still think it was the right thing.”
I couldn’t take a deep breath—coming face-to-face with all the things I hadn’t seen. How wrong I had been about so much. “I made a mistake,” I said, which was maybe the most honest thing I’d ever said to Chase. And right then I felt like he was the one who could absolve me.
“Harper,” he said, “get her the fuck out of here.”
I laughed into my drink, draining the rest. “I’m trying,” I said. But I feared I had lost the ability to do anything about her. She was here to taunt us, to prove something, to disrupt the foundation of all of our lives. Simpler, even: She was here for revenge. And we all knew it.
When I looked up, Ruby was swaying to the music. She had my blue cup in her hand, had drunk so much she could barely stand upright, her hand wrapped around an iron bar to steady herself.
The first rocket cried through the night, a burst of red flames over the top of the trees, and Preston let out a whoop. Ruby stumbled into the nearest lounge chair, head tilted back, the colors reflecting off her exposed skin.
I looked from her, to Mac, to Javier; Tate, just outside their group, hands resting on her stomach; Charlotte perched on the edge of Whitney’s chair, Molly beside them; Tina and her parents around the table, faces tipped up to the fireworks; Margo covering the baby’s ears while he began to cry; Paul looking down at his phone, burger in his free hand; Preston with his date in his arms, hands wrapped around the iron bars behind her.
For this brief moment, we could all look away, forget about Ruby Fletcher and all she threatened to uncover here. The bright lights singeing the sky. The explosion vibrating in your chest.
I was betting no one even noticed when I left. With the fireworks show still happening, I grabbed the pool bag and went back home, my brain moving too fast, working through the simplest way to get her out of here. The first step, I knew, was to lock the door behind me.
The second step was to pack up her things, get them out of my house.
* * *
THE POUNDING ON THE door began just before midnight. I was upstairs piling the last of Ruby’s clothes into that empty suitcase.
Back in my room, I opened my laptop to watch the camera feed, to see which Ruby Fletcher I was dealing with.
But on the frame was Margo Wellman, casting glances behind her as she pounded on the door with the side of her closed fist. I heard her sharp breathing, a single whimper.
“Coming!” I yelled as I raced down the stairs, because she looked afraid, and she was on watch tonight, and I worried Ruby had done something.
As soon as I opened the door, I knew something terrible had happened. I’d seen the expression before. Chase, turning from the end of the bed, eyes wide with horror, mouth slightly open, choking on his words—
I placed both hands on her upper arms, her skin clammy and cold. The rough feel of goose bumps or a heat rash covering her shoulders. “What did she do?” I asked, trying to force the words from Margo. Picturing the endless possibilities: the pool water, the lake water, the knife under her bed—
“Ruby’s at the pool,” Margo said. “She’s still there.”
I squeezed her shoulders tighter, thinking of everyone who had been down there together. All these people I suddenly cared for.
She sucked in a gasp of air. “She’s not breathing, Harper.” Hand to her mouth, fingers shaking, while faces scrolled in my mind: Charlotte and her girls, Tate, Tina—
Margo started running toward the pool, and I followed, barefoot, heart pounding.
That moment when Chase lunged toward the bedroom windows, throwing them open, and I caught a glimpse—
The lights at the Seaver brothers’ home were on, and a door swung open like they could sense something happening—
Chase’s raspy voice that morning as he’d yelled at me, “Call 911. Harper, move!”
The front door of the Wellman house also ajar, the lights off. A baby crying inside, ignored.
Voices yelling from the pool. “Get her on the ground!”
Tina, the first person I saw, in her pajamas under the corner light of the pool. Paul Wellman helping her lower a figure from the lounge chair. The chair I’d last seen Ruby in—
And then I understood. It was Ruby, still at the pool, not breathing. My foot caught on the curb, and my knee hit the grass outside the pool entrance.
The sharp cry of a siren, a flash of red and blue, and Chase’s shadow illuminated from up the road, heading our way.
And then time slowing down, my body sluggish, the scene coming in fragments:
The EMTs pushing their way in and Tina stepping back, kicking over my blue insulated cup that Ruby had taken. Tina looking out the pool gates straight at Margo and me, her face set. A single shake of her head.
The street filling up behind me. The sirens and the lights, the gathering crowd. The police arriving in new vehicles, beckoning us back.
And still we watched, standing on our toes, leaning around one another. There was movement on the trail beyond the pool, people sneaking closer for a better look.
Everyone watching her, even now. The commotion she could create, bending the gravity of a room her way. A spectacle, still—living or dead.
FRIDAY, JULY 5
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CHAPTER 16
SILENCE.
It stretched up the road and around the corner. No doors opening or closing, or neighbors calling to one another, or voices carrying from backyards or open windows. It moved through with a heavy warning, a physical presence—something worth heeding.
This was the opposite of what had happened after the Truetts, the way we had all called to one another, reached for one another, arms entwining in comfort and relief. The feel of skin on skin, reminding us that we were alive.
The message board back then had been full of notes. All of us checking in: What happened? Who noticed? Oh my God, is everyone else okay? The calls, the texts, the community growing even closer in the af
termath, at first.
Now the message board was empty. Not only that, someone had gone through and deleted every previous post.
Even my house was eerily quiet. Nothing but a drip coming from the kitchen, the click of something mechanical in the living room walls. Like time had frozen last night with Ruby’s death. Her purple insulated cup that I’d dropped in the sink when I’d first returned, my flip-flops kicked off by the front door, beside the pool bag. I couldn’t bear to move anything.
My phone rang from the spot beside me on the couch, Mac’s name on the display. “Hey, you okay?” he asked as soon as I picked up.
“Yeah, I mean. I don’t know. I think so.” My own voice seemed to carry in the silence.
“I wanted to come by last night to check on you, but the police were outside. I didn’t want them to see me going to your house after they took all the statements,” he said.
“No, that’s fine. That’s okay.” I cleared my throat. “How are you?”
I heard him breathing into the phone. “It’s crazy. I can’t believe it. Did you see what happened?”
“No, I was back at the house. I’d left early.”
“Me, too,” he said. “As soon as the fireworks were over. I told the police that. I didn’t see anything. Preston and his date barely made it through the fireworks show before leaving, too. Charlotte didn’t see anything.” A pause. “None of us did.”
“You talked to them?” I’d gone straight back home on autopilot after giving my statement. Had walked upstairs and stood in the shower until my skin had begun to prune. Had found myself in her room after, in her bed, staring up.
“For a little bit, outside, yeah. After we gave our statements. Listen,” he said, and his voice dropped, his mouth pressed closer to the phone. “No one said anything.”
In the silence, I imagined what he was implying: my fight with Ruby; the things we’d said or at least insinuated; the way she’d turned on all of us, fingers pointed and accusations hurled.
Such a Quiet Place Page 15
