by David Bell
“And?” she asked.
“I didn’t know she was dead but . . .”
“You can’t even bring yourself to ask the question, can you? You came over here ready to talk to me, but you can’t ask what you really want to know.”
“Because I’m afraid of the answer.”
She brought her lips together and then spoke. “You’re afraid to ask me if I called my mother that day so that I could go over to Jennifer’s house. You’re afraid to ask if I’m the one who killed Jennifer.”
CHAPTER NINETY
Amanda took a step back. She placed her hands on her hips and looked at the ground, apparently taking the time to choose her words carefully.
“I don’t know what I think of that question,” she said. “And I don’t know how to respond to it. Not really.”
“Just tell me the truth. I can handle it. . . . I just want to know what’s going on. I don’t want to believe it. I don’t believe it. But I don’t know what else to think. . . . We’ve both acted crazy.”
She looked up at me. “I’m surprised, really surprised, that you would even ask me that question. As long as we’ve known each other . . .”
“I’ve lied. We’ve made mistakes. If you went over there and something went wrong . . . Look, I’m the one who drove you to do it. I wasn’t attentive, or whatever I needed to be. I wasn’t aware of what you were going through.” My thoughts ran together, like cars colliding on a freeway. I tried to make it as simple as possible. As simple and as frightening. “Just tell me everything. I know you didn’t go to the store. And the cops know that too.”
She remained in place with her hands on her hips. But she nodded her head, ready to share it all. “I did go over there to have it out with Jennifer that day. That’s why I called Mom. That’s why I needed a babysitter. I’d seen that she’d reached out to you again just a couple days before, and at that time, I guess the two of you were still Facebook friends.”
“I told you I unfriended her after that last message. That’s why you were able to send those creepy requests.”
“Yes, and I felt like I was being attacked. Like my family was being attacked by her. Not just me. But you. And Henry. All of us. And I felt vulnerable. And I wanted it to end. I just wanted it to end.”
I swallowed hard. “What happened?”
“I found her address. I drove to her house. I looked at it, wondering what was going on inside. Who the woman was who lived there. What had she been through? What did she think about? Were we that different when you got right down to it? I saw on Facebook she worked at a nonprofit, that she was doing important work. I guess it would have been easier to hate her if she was some vapid bimbo.” She shook her head. “How was I to know what her life was like? Or what motivated the things she did?”
“So . . . ?”
“I stared at her house for almost thirty minutes. Frozen. And then I left. I went and got a giant coffee at Starbucks, sat in the park, indulging myself for a while, and then I went home and back to my normal life. Except you lied to me that night and went out . . . and I sent that first friend request. And when Jennifer ended up dead . . . I didn’t know what to think. She might have been dead while I was sitting outside her house. But I didn’t see or hear anything.”
Days’ worth of tension and anxiety had built within me. Like a wall of water held back by a dam, the pressure had grown and grown. When Amanda said those words, when she told me the truth about her whereabouts on the day Jennifer died, something slipped inside me. The pressure and tension loosened, and so too did nearly every muscle in my body. I thought I might fall over. My head swirled, and I expected to see the ground rushing up to meet me.
But I held on, remaining upright.
I willed myself forward, moving toward Amanda. And she opened her arms to me, looking as weak and spent as I felt.
We fell against each other, holding each other up.
I kissed the top of her head and pulled her as close as I could.
I told her I was sorry over and over again. I told her I loved her. The words all felt insufficient to the moment. Words always did.
I wanted nothing more than to get Henry and go home with him and Amanda. That was all I cared about. I wanted my world to encompass nothing more than those two people.
I didn’t know how much time had passed. My grip loosened on her body. She moved back so I could see her face.
“Let’s go,” I said. “Let’s go get Henry and get out of here.”
But Amanda surprised me by shaking her head. “We can’t.”
“Why? Do you want to go to the wedding? After all this?”
Again, Amanda shook her head. “Aren’t you wondering why I’m out here? Why of all places I came here?”
I had been wondering when I first pulled up and saw her talking to Wendy. But then those thoughts went away as I started talking to her.
But now . . .
“Okay,” I said, “why are you here?”
“Because I needed to talk to somebody about everything that’s been going on. Somebody who knows what really happened . . .”
Before I could ask who she meant, a voice behind us called Amanda’s name.
A female voice.
I turned and looked.
Sam.
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
Sam had stepped outside the Barn, and she stood ten feet away from us in her wedding dress. Her hair was piled on top of her head, like her sister’s, but also woven with flowers. Her makeup looked Hollywood perfect and, set against the white of the gown, gave her a beautiful, healthy glow. She looked like a vision of marital vitality.
“What do you two want?” she asked, sounding less than pleased to see us. “I’m about to go down the aisle. Blake and I are ready for this. You said you weren’t coming, so why are you here now?”
“Sam.” Amanda took a step away from me and closer to the bride. “I never dreamed I’d be here on the day of your wedding. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think it was important.”
Sam’s eyes moved back and forth between Amanda and me. “You shouldn’t be here.” Her eyes landed on me. “You have both said you never want to have anything more to do with Blake. You’ve both said awful things about him. He invited you here in good faith, and you said no. And all that trouble from college. He’s facing charges from the accident now. They’re going to come after him for vehicular homicide. So why are you here? You say you don’t want to interrupt—then don’t. Leave. Just let us finally get married, okay? We’ve worked it all out, so leave us be.”
Amanda moved even closer. She reached into her pocket and brought out her phone. “I know, Sam. You sent those threatening messages to Jennifer Bates. You sent them on the day she died, and you said you were coming over to her house.”
Sam’s eyes moved slowly from me to Amanda as she spoke. And outrage spread across her face as she understood what Amanda was saying.
I had no idea what Amanda was implying. Or why.
“You’re both crazy,” Sam said. “You’d both do anything to ruin the wedding. Please leave. Okay? Just leave.”
Sam lifted the hem of her dress, elevating it above the gravel and dirt, and turned back to the Barn. But before she went back in, Amanda said, “Lily Rose. That’s the name you used for the fake account when you wrote to Jennifer. You threatened her from that account.”
Sam closed her eyes. She looked like we were a great burden, trying the last ounce of patience she possessed. “Please. Not today.”
“Amanda,” I said.
Amanda shook her head at me. “Lily Rose. The cops don’t know, at least not yet. But remember, you told me once.” Amanda laughed a little at the absurdity of it all. “We all played that stupid drinking game when we went out for your friend’s bachelorette party. Seven months ago, a month before Henry was born and we stopped speaking to Blake.”
“You stopped speaking to him,” Sam said.
“What would your stripper name be?” Amanda said. “It’s always the name of your first pet and the street you grew up on. Everybody knows that. They do those stupid things on social media all the time, and people share it. But you were laughing that night. You said, ‘Wouldn’t it be funny if your stripper name was the names of your two grandmothers?’ And you said yours would have been Lily Rose and how that sounded like an old-fashioned stripper from the Wild West.” Amanda looked over at me. “It was the stupidest thing to laugh at. But everyone was drinking, everyone but me because I was pregnant, and so I remembered. It was a pretty name. That’s what I thought. Lily Rose.” She looked back at Sam. “Mine was Margaret Lynn. We decided it was the worst stripper name ever.”
“This is all very charming, but I have to go get married. . . .”
“You threatened Jennifer using that name. I saw it on her social media accounts. You went over there. You knew something had gone on between her and Blake, so you went over there that day . . . and I don’t know what you intended to do, but it must have gone horribly wrong, because that’s the day she ended up dead. And Blake must not have known yet, because he sent Ryan in that night to get the letters back. Right? You killed her, Sam. You must have killed her because you didn’t like the way she and Blake were carrying on. Then the two of you could get married. You must have just been driven by jealousy.”
Sam remained frozen in place, her hand still clutching the material of the wedding dress. She stared hard at us, her eyes narrowed, the irises shining like dark marbles. She breathed a little heavier, a little quicker.
“You think I was jealous of her?” Sam asked. “You think jealousy would drive me to do anything so rash?” She looked at both of us again, her face sneering in contempt. “The two of you don’t understand anything about us, do you? You never have. You’re both just kind of simple and so perfect. Simply perfect. You’d think something as basic as jealousy would be a reason to do anything. It’s not. Not for us.”
“Then why did you do it, Sam?” Amanda asked.
I still wasn’t sure Amanda was right. I wasn’t sure about anything. If the Barn had exploded and the landscape around us had gone up in flames, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
Before Sam said anything else, the door to the Barn opened again.
Blake stepped through and saw the two of us talking to his bride.
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
Blake took the whole scene in. He wore a black suit and a black tie with a crisp white shirt. His hair looked slightly wet and plastered into the kind of order I’d never before seen on him. He kept his eyes on Amanda and me but spoke to Samantha.
“What is this all about? It’s time, honey. It’s time to do this thing once and for all.”
“Blake, I think you’re going to want to hear this,” I said.
He smiled, but there was little warmth in it. He looked at me like I was a stranger, someone he needed to tolerate for just another moment. “I don’t need to hear anything from either of you. You were invited, but you said no. So . . . that’s probably for the best. I told the truth about what happened in college, and I’m going to get in some trouble for all of that. And none of that is sitting well with Sam’s parents. They’re not even here.”
“And that’s fine,” Sam said. “We can do it all on our own.”
“Sam was just about to tell us something important,” Amanda said.
For the first time since he’d stepped outside, Blake turned and looked at his bride-to-be. And then he spoke to us while he stared at her. “She doesn’t have to tell me anything else. I know what happened. And I know why Sam went to Jennifer’s house that day. Why do you think I wanted your laptop? I started to suspect Sam had done it, and I wanted to check the information you downloaded. When I saw the messages from Lily Rose, I knew. I’ve played the stupid drinking game with her. But none of that’s important. Our wedding is.”
He reached out and took Sam by the hand, gently tugging her in the direction of the Barn and their wedding guests.
But Sam stayed rooted in place, resisting the pressure. She fixed her eyes on me.
“It’s not jealousy,” she said. “Do you know why I went over there to see Jennifer that day?”
“Baby . . . ,” Blake said.
“It’s okay,” she said. “They’ll understand. Ryan will understand. He will.” She sounded calm, logical, perfectly in control of her story. “Blake told Jennifer all about Aaron Knicely and the Steiner girls. He told Jennifer who was really driving that night. Not you, Ryan. Him. Blake. He told Jennifer that he was driving. He did it because he slipped up and drank again. And you know as well as I do that makes him loose-tongued. I’m not thrilled he told someone else before he told me, but it was the drinking that did it. That’s why he had to stop when we got back together.” She spoke about Blake as if he wasn’t there, like he was her child and she was sharing her struggles with him at a support group. “When he ended the relationship with her to get back together with me, she threatened to tell. Maybe she was bluffing and just wanted to make him squirm, but how could we take that chance? You know what that’s like, Ryan. When you don’t want your dirty laundry aired for all to see. She . . . Jennifer . . . was going to tell the police that Blake was driving that night and put him in legal jeopardy. Hell, she tried to tell you, Ryan. Why do you think she reached out to you just a few days ago on Facebook?”
“I thought she wanted something else. Something . . . romantic. I didn’t imagine . . .”
“She told me that day when I went over there. She was trying to tell you the truth about the accident. That Blake was driving, and you were off the hook. She was going to show you the letters. But you ignored her. If you’d responded and talked to her, you would have known then. Instead, I went to get the letters back. To keep Blake from legal jeopardy. To keep everyone from knowing. And then Blake and I would get married, and it would all be settled.”
“What happened at her house?” I asked.
“I thought she’d listen to reason. You know, one woman to another. I just slipped over there in the evening. I didn’t think it would take long. And if I hadn’t gone there, everything we’d planned would have been out the window. All of this.” She gestured to the Barn, the surrounding landscape, everything that was to come in the future. “We couldn’t have that, could we? Not when we were so close to having it all worked out.”
Her words were calm and reasonable. She didn’t allow for the possibility that there could be any objection to anything she said.
“What went wrong when you got there?” I asked.
Sam reached up and brushed at a corner of her eye. Either a tear or a makeup smudge. I couldn’t say which.
“She wouldn’t listen to reason,” Sam said. “Blake didn’t know I was going there. He really didn’t. That’s why he sent you that night, Ryan. I didn’t tell him I was trying to solve the problem on my own. I got the feeling she didn’t really want to get Blake in trouble. She wasn’t hanging on like a woman scorned. But she clearly wanted us both to squirm. She liked having that power over us. And she used it. So I offered her money, money I’ve received from my parents over the years. Not a small amount. And that set her off. She was offended, and she shut down. So things escalated from there. I wasn’t leaving without those letters. We couldn’t have the loose end dangling.”
“Escalated until you killed her?” I asked. “Smashed her over the head or whatever you did?”
“I got angry because she was so unreasonable.” Her voice caught. For the first time she showed something besides defensiveness and anger. Sam looked up to the sky. She again lifted a finger to her right eye, which was perfectly framed by eyeliner. She seemed to be trying to keep a single tear from falling. “I just wanted the letters. That’s it. So I tried to just take them. You know, just grab them and go. If she wanted t
o call the police or make a stink later, she could. But I didn’t think she would. Not really. Not if I took them and left.”
Blake watched her with an intense protectiveness. And a look that resembled admiration.
“I went into the bedroom and started looking in the closet and ruffling through the clothes. I was scrambling. I had to get out of there as fast as possible, and I thought I’d be going empty-handed. For a minute or two, Jennifer watched me from the bedroom doorway. She was almost laughing at me. Then I started opening drawers, and when I pulled open the one in the top of the dresser, she came into the room behind me.”
“That’s the drawer you told me to look in,” I said to Blake.
“That’s where the letters were,” he said.
“And before I could grab them, she grabbed me. By the hair. She pulled me back and told me to get out. She pulled so hard my eyes filled with tears.” Sam shivered at the memory. “I don’t like it when people think they can push me around. They think I’ll take anything and not give it right back. You thought that, Ryan. You thought I was just the little woman sitting idly by while Blake did whatever he wanted. Well, I’m not. And I pushed back against Jennifer. Hard.”
“How hard?” I asked.
“She had a trophy or something on the dresser. I just reached out, and it felt like a heavy stone in my hand. And I swung. Just once.” Her eyes were wide, her hand cupped as though she was holding that heavy object again. “I knew it was bad. The sound it made. The way she fell. I knew.” She swallowed hard. “I took the letters and the trophy with me. That trophy . . . It was some kind of employee-of-the-month thing. . . .”
“Where is it?” I asked.
“In the river. And the letters are burned.”
“And the glove?” I asked.
“That could be a problem,” Sam said. “I didn’t even know the gloves were in my pocket. I hadn’t worn that coat recently, and they were in there. And one of them fell out, I guess. I didn’t want it to go that way, but it did. You would have done the same thing, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you, Amanda?”
