Pretty Girls Die Last

by Lisa Mancini

  “Dianna, I’m going home now. Call me if you need anything. Good night.”

  Freya shut the door behind her and walked back to the waiting area. She just remembered she had no way to get home. She’d ridden to the hospital in the back of the ambulance. Taxi’s and buses did not run at night in Agatha Falls. She called Ali but it went to voice mail. Then she tried her brother Jake. He answered on the second ring and told her he’d be there in fifteen minutes. At first, he thought something was wrong with Freya since she was calling from the hospital. But she explained as quickly as she could what happened earlier at the Wainsbridge gymnasium. As usual, Jake was upset.

  “I can’t wait until you go on your book tour so you’ll be out of town. I swear this town will be the death of you.”

  Freya laughed to herself as she pocketed her phone. She looked up to see Dr. Sanders walking towards her. She looked like she wanted to speak with her. Freya braced herself.

  “Freya can we talk?”

  Freya said yes and the two women sat down in the waiting area. It was empty and the only voices that could be heard came from the TV on the wall. An old episode of Law and Order was playing.

  “Freya, Dianna wanted me to tell you that’s she’s going to be fine. She’ll be discharged tomorrow.”

  “Thank you Dr. Sanders. I’m glad to hear that.”

  Freya didn’t mention anything about Logan being questioned in the death of her daughter. She was leaving that to the police.

  “I hear you have a book coming out soon. I hope you didn’t write anything about my daughter.”

  Freya was caught off guard. She wasn’t expecting that.

  “No, it pertains to the Joey Taylor murder and the Abby Vale murders.”

  “Good, my husband and I have suffered enough in this town. You might as well know now, we’re leaving after the holidays. We’re moving back to New York City. My sister lives there. My husband will be taking a teaching job at the University and my sister and I will be traveling throughout Europe. I always intended to take Sydney with me when she turned 18. She was going to take a gap year. But now----.”

  She said no more and Freya hunted for something to say to fill the void.

  “I’ve always wanted to travel myself. Where in Europe are you going?”

  “France, Italy, and the United Kingdom. My sister has a home in Barcelona so we’ll eventually end up there. I don’t ever want to see this town again,” she said bitterly.

  Without thinking, Freya blurted out, “Well, with both Brandon and Mike dead now, at least you’ll have some closure.”

  The woman looked at her. Her expression was undecipherable. “Yes, one hanged himself out of guilt and the other died by drinking poisoned Gatorade. How ironic,” she smirked.

  Freya’s phone pinged. It was Jake. He was in the parking lot waiting for her. Freya stood up.

  “Well, my ride is here, I have to go.”

  She walked off as quickly as she could and practically jumped into Jake’s truck. Her brother asked her a million questions about Logan and Detective Ramirez. Finally, Freya told Jake she was tired so the interrogation ended as he pulled up in front of her home. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, promised to call him tomorrow, jumped out of the truck, and ran inside. She immediately checked on her cat, turned on the TV and made herself a pop tart.

  As she sat and watched the news, she perused her pile of junk mail. Her cell phone went off and she saw that it was a text from Duke.

  Get to the police department ASAP.

  I want you to see something.

  Use the back door.

  Freya texted back.

  I’m on my way.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Freya drove as quickly as she could to the police station. The last thing she needed right now was a ticket. She parked in the lot and went to the back door and texted Duke. He was there in seconds. He must have been waiting for her arrival. He led her down the hallway to his office and shut the door behind him. He pulled his lap top around and turned it on.

  “I want you to see the interview. Listen to Logan’s confession.”

  Freya sat down and watched as Logan was interviewed by Sheriff Carmichael. He sat across from the boy, his father, and attorney. Freya didn’t recognize the lawyer. He must be from out of town. Maybe even Stamford or Boston. The Bell family could afford the best and most expensive lawyers.

  The sheriff videotaped the interview. That was wise. Sometimes, when people were questioned by the police they alleged all sorts of unethical or illegal behavior. So, the police videotaped their interrogations as a form of protection against such accusations. Freya watched with keen interest.

  “Mr. Bell, can you tell us what happened on the night Sydney Sanders was found dead? You were the last person to see her alive.”

  “I picked her up for a dinner date. It was Halloween night and she was at a sleep over. So, I picked her up and we drove to the restaurant.”

  “So, what happened after you picked her up?”

  “We stopped at Raven’s Pond and got out to talk. At first, everything was great. We kissed a little. But then, she told me she was going to report Brandon and Mike as the two boys who had sex with her last summer. She didn’t call it rape because she let it happen. They were harassing her friends and she offered to take their place. I know how that sounds but Sydney was like that.”

  “So, what happened next?”

  “We got into an argument and she slapped me.”

  “And then what? Did you slap her back?”

  “I hit her. I didn’t mean to but she made me so mad.”

  “How hard?”

  Logan shrugged. “I don’t know but she fell down and had a hard time getting back up. I tried her help her up but she wouldn’t let me. Her head was bleeding. Maybe she hit it on a rock or something.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I told her to get back in the car and she told me to - well, she told me to go to hell. I got mad and left and drove back to town. I left her there.”

  “Was she alive when you left her?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, then what did you do?”

  “I called Brandon and told him. He was pissed. He told me to go back and get her. He said if I didn’t, he would. So, I went back but I couldn’t find her.”

  “Then what?”

  “I started to drive home but before I got there, I drove back to the pond. I felt bad about what happened earlier. I walked around. And then - I found her.”

  “Where did you find her?”

  “She was lying on the ground near the pond. I shook her but she didn’t move. I f felt for a pulse but couldn’t find one. I was scared so I called Brandon and he told me to throw her in the pond. He said either way we were in trouble. She’d tell on him for the rape and me for hitting her.”

  “So, Brandon told you to throw her in the pond. Was she alive when you threw her in?”

  Logan was crying now. Tears streamed down his face. “I picked her up and she wasn’t moving. I tried for a pulse again but I couldn’t find one. I thought to myself – you killed her! I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think I hit her that hard!”

  “Okay, so, you picked her up and she wasn’t moving. How did you throw her in? Did you toss her like a bag of trash or did you wade in and let her go in the water? “

  “I walked into the water with her. And then when I thought it was deep enough, I just let her go. I let her go! And she just floated for a bit. I thought I heard someone so I ran off. It was her friends. I saw Arielle, Anya, and another girl. Somebody picked up her purse and then I ran back, got in my car, and drove to Brandon’s house. He said not to worry. He said the police would think it was Clyde Embry the child molester. And then we played video games all night.”

  Freya had seen enough.

  “Turn it off.”

  She felt numb. It wasn’t the confession she was expecting. It wasn’t neat and clean but disorganized and messy.

  “
So, now what? Are you arresting him for murder?”

  “Yes, we’ve arrested him but I don’t think the murder was planned. If anything it was second degree murder but the cover up is worse. And with Brandon dead, he has no witness. And don’t forget about the attack on Ramirez though. He’s in big trouble. Hey, Freya, how did you know it was him?”

  “It was Anya. She said that he mentioned something about the girls finding Sydney’s purse. The police never released that to the public. And the girls never told him that. So, when Anya heard that, she figured out he was there, watching them. She said she felt like she was being watched that night.”

  “So, he spoke off the cuff and it got him in the end.”

  Freya nodded. “Yeah, he thought he was in the clear and blabbed to the wrong person. Sometimes people are their own worst enemies.”

  Suddenly, Freya remembered something. She had to speak to the sheriff.

  “Is the sheriff here? I need to ask him something.”

  “Yeah, he’s in his office. Why”

  “Oh it’s nothing important. Hey, what are you doing New Year’s Eve?”

  Her question caught Duke off guard.

  “Ah, nothing why?”

  “Would you like to attend my friend Ali’s New Year’s Eve party? Her dad is out of town so she has the whole house to herself. I have to warn you – the theme is Disco! I’m serious. She’s having a disco themed party. Why don’t you come with me, it’ll be fun.”

  “I’m not much of a dancer. Do I have to wear a white suit like John Travolta?”

  “No, of course not. I’m wearing jeans and I’m no dancer either. Think about it and let me know. Good night.”

  Freya walked down the hall to the sheriff’s office and knocked on his door.

  “Sheriff, can I ask you a question?” Freya walked in and shut the door behind her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Freya awoke with a sense of dread. Her conversation the night before with the sheriff confirmed her worst suspicion. Now- what to do about it? Her head told her one thing, but her heart another. She normally chose her cerebral side but this time was different. This time she felt as if her heart were winning out.

  She decided she would wait until she actually confronted the person. She knew she was stalling but somehow it felt right. She got up and dressed quickly. She had no appetite for breakfast this morning. The temperature was warmer today and most of the snow had melted. She fed her cat, locked her front door behind her, and drove directly to her destination. No holiday decorations adorned the Georgian colonial. It was a grand home but lacked warmth. She rang the doorbell and waited.

  The door was opened by a woman she had not seen before. Where was Dalisay? Freya did not inquire but did ask for the lady of the house. The woman nodded and asked her to wait in the foyer. Freya took in her surroundings. Gone were the paintings and the artwork. Only bare ivory walls remained. Gone were the silk divans and leather chairs. One small sofa remained with only a table beside it. Freya looked up as the woman approached her. She was surprised to see her. Her face said it all.

  “Freya, what are you doing here? The police already called me about Logan. I know what happened.”

  Freya wasn’t sure how to broach the subject so she decided to be quick and direct. Her old way of going for the jugular just to see people squirm didn’t seem to fit the occasion this time. Maybe she had matured and her style along with it.

  “Dr. Sanders, when we spoke the other night at the hospital, you said something that I needed to clarify.”

  The woman looked calm but confused.

  “What? What is it?”

  “You said that Brandon had died from ingesting poisoned Gatorade. Do you remember that?”

  Dr. Sanders shrugged her shoulders. “No, I don’t remember that? Why? Why does that matter?”

  “Well, here’s the thing – that was never released to the public. So, how did you know the apricot seeds were in the Gatorade?”

  Freya watched the woman’s eyes. Cast down, they darted back and forth. She was thinking. Her psychology background taught her that pupillary response could convey a person’s thought process. And right now, Dr. Marsha Sanders was thinking up an excuse or maybe even a lie. When Freya heard her say glibly that Brandon drank poisoned Gatorade, it hadn’t registered at that moment. But after watching Logan’s interview and recalling what Anya had told her, it clicked.

  “Well, Dr. Sanders? Did someone tell you about the Gatorade? If they did, we need to know. That information was confidential and if the police department has a mole, we need their name,” said Freya using a different tactic. Maybe the doctor would fall for the bait and try to throw someone under the bus.

  The doctor took the bait. “Yes! I think maybe one of the officers said it down at the police station but I can’t for the life of me recall who it was – sorry. Well, if that’s all, I’m busy. I have an appointment and then my husband and I are very busy packing up our offices for the move.”

  She stood there expecting Freya to leave but she remained where she was standing.

  “Dr. Sanders, I understand you have a minor in botany. Is there a connection between plants and heart conditions? Like, Brandon for example. The apricot seeds caused a heart attack, isn’t that right?” She stared straight at her now. Freya wanted her to know that she knew she did it.

  Dr. Sanders stared straight back. The woman was no longer afraid and her next words reminded Freya that there was nothing stronger than a mother’s love.

  “Look- I just learned that my daughter’s boyfriend hit her and probably drowned her and left her for dead. And that his friend told him to do it. Then, they watched video games all night.”

  “I don’t care how Brandon died or even who did it. Whoever poisoned him did the world a favor. And do you know why? Because he wouldn’t have stopped. He would have kept on raping and eventually killing. So, Ms. Barrett, whatever you are insinuating, you had better have damn proof. I don’t think the people of Agatha Falls would appreciate a college reporter harassing the mother of a dead girl just to sell books! Now, get the hell out of my house before I call the police!” The woman continued her tirade as Freya stood there not saying a word.

  “People like you make me sick. You love to write about other people’s pain and suffering. Well, one day you may have a child and what will you do if someone takes their life just because they can? Why don’t you write about that?”

  Freya backed up and put her hands out in supplication.

  “Dr. Sanders, this is between us. I have no intention of going to the authorities. I happen to agree with you. I’m not a vigilante and neither are you, but sometimes wrongs have to be righted. I just wanted to stop by and tell you I hope that someday you will find peace again, if that’s possible. Good bye Dr. Sanders.”

  Marsha Sanders stood in her doorway and watched her as she drove away. Freya couldn’t tell if the look on her face was relief or shock. Either way, it was over.

  EPILOGUE

  Fire trucks blared in the distance but the party goers were unaware. All they could hear were the strains of Saturday Night Fever. Freya and Duke did their best impersonation of John Travolta and his partner. Ali looked on in pity.

  “Lincoln, look at them. They are the worst dancers I’ve ever seen. You know what I think?” But, Lincoln cut her off.

  “Ali, shut up.” She looked up at him in shock.

  “Just leave it, they’re having fun.”

  And they were having fun. Until Duke’s, cell phone vibrated in his back pocket. He read the text.

  Wainsbridge Academy is on fire.

  He showed Freya the text but she wasn’t surprised. Just that morning, the police arrested the players for both the football and lacrosse teams. After Logan Bell confessed to the murder of Sydney Sanders, his private lap top was searched. The police found over 150 hours of video revealing the drugging and raping of underage girls by the older Wainsbridge athletes. The girls were students from St. Bernadette’s
and Evergreen Middle School. There was talk of the school closing. Who wants to send their son to a rape academy, as it was now known?

  “Do you want to drive over? I’m sure it’ll be quite a story,” teased Duke.

  But Freya walked over, picked up a slice of Ted’s pizza, and took a huge bite.

  “Nope, let Kerry Quinn cover this one. I’m on vacation.”

  Across town, on the edge of the forest, a young girl stood and watched as the flames rose. Once the fire was well established, she ran to the road, jumped on her bike and pedaled the seven miles to her home. The temperature was unusually warm and the snow had melted. She rode easily to her neighborhood. Once there, she locked her bike in the garage and ran up the back stairs to her kitchen.

  Her aunt and uncle were at the country club celebrating New Years. Her baby sitter was a very ancient and half deaf woman who was now snoring soundly on the large sectional sofa in the game room. Anya took pity on the old woman, covered her with a blanket, and turned off the TV. She ran up the stairs, tore off her clothes, and threw them in the washing machine. Then she jumped in the shower and washed herself clean.

  After dressing in a pair of flannel pajamas, she went into her uncle’s office and turned on his police scanner. The police were speaking with the new Fire Chief, Don Mancini. Chief Mancini was a recent transplant from Stamford.

  “Yes, it’s a shame for a historical building like that to be destroyed by a professional arsonist. We’re just lucky the fire didn’t spread into the surrounding forest area.”

  John Brody, Chief Arson Inspector concurred.

  “Yeah, the school is a total loss. The arsonist started the fire in the gymnasium and then the thing spread like wild fire. We think they used Molotov cocktails. Thank God, the school was closed and no one was in the building. The security guard was across campus when the fire started so either he was just lucky or the arsonist waited for him to leave the main buildings - we just don’t know. They also spray painted the security cameras so we have nothing on film that we can use to identify the person or persons.”