Darlene was reminded of the conversation she'd had with Jill's mother earlier that morning. Amanda had told her that she was surprised to find that Jill had friends, that she'd always been a loner.
"I'm sorry," Darlene said. "Those last two names?"
"Katie Beckham and Diane Wright."
Darlene scribbled the names and looked at Harry. He was already looking at her.
"But they backed out of the camping trip for some reason," Jill said. "Lucky them." A pause. "So the five of us went to the campsite. We got there about five-ish, about five in the afternoon. We started drinking.
I'd never had alcohol before. So I was kinda drunk. Then I got more drunk. Then...I blacked out."
"Blacked out," Darlene echoed.
Jill nodded. "Then I heard the screaming...in the darkness...behind my closed eyelids. I opened my eyes, and it was over, the screaming. I was in the woods, lying face down. I got up, walked back to the campsite. That's when I saw the blood...and the bodies. Denise and Jessica were in the woods, near the tents. I started...screaming. I ran...across the clearing. That's when I saw Gary. He was lying on his side...next to the fire pit. I saw the blood, but I thought maybe… So I ran to him. He was dead. I ran toward the treeline, back toward the parking lot. I felt something, a presence behind me. I turned. There was nobody there. When I turned back toward the treeline, there he was, Richard. He was wearing a ski mask, but I knew it was him. I could see his eyes." A pause. "He was covered in blood, and he had a knife. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out." Another pause. "Richard, he lifted the knife. It was covered in blood. He brought it to his mouth, like he would a finger, and said, 'Shhh.' He was mocking me. He was mocking me because I couldn't scream, not anymore. He took it away from me. He took away my scream."
She stopped and stared vacantly into the distance. The detectives waited.
"He was on me," Jill continued suddenly, as if she had been on pause and somebody hit the play button. "He pounced on me, drove me to the ground. He had my right wrist pinned. I was holding his right wrist, the one with the knife. I tried to stop him, but he was too strong. He brought the knife down...into my stomach. I thought I was gonna die." A pause. "He pulled the knife out and stood. He was standing over me, watching me." She furrowed her brow. "Waiting for me to die? No, he was toying with me. He was having fun. He didn't say anything. It was like he was Richard and somebody else at the same time. He looked like Richard through the mask, but it was like he was taking on the persona of somebody else. It was like he was taking on the persona of a killer that doesn't speak in one of those slasher movies like Halloween and Friday the 13th. Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees, they never talk in those movies. But he took a couple of steps back, like he was inviting me to get up, to fight back, or to make a run for it. So I got up, and I waited, and he waited. Then he came after me. He tried to stab me again, but I grabbed his hand, the one with the knife, and we struggled, and somehow...I managed to turn the knife toward him, and we struggled some more, and we fell, and the knife went into his chest. And he was dead."
Harry turned his pad toward Darlene. Ask her about the game? he had written. Darlene shrugged.
"Jill," Harry began, "you knew Richard for how long?"
"Three weeks."
"Three weeks?"
"About that. But we packed a lot into those three weeks. I felt like I knew him forever."
"You packed a lot into those three weeks," Harry said. "Was your relationship romantic?"
“No,” Jill said with noticeable regret. "I wanted it to be, but...there wasn't enough time."
Harry and Darlene glanced at each other.
"What does that mean, Jill?" Harry asked.
"Well...he's dead. There wasn't enough time for us."
"It sounds like you cared about him quite a bit," Harry said.
Silence.
"You say that the two of you packed quite a bit into those three weeks, that you felt like you knew him forever."
"Yes?"
"I'm guessing the two of you had a lot in common."
Darlene knew where he was going with this. The detective in her knew that he was just doing his job, but the mother in her hated him for it.
"You mentioned slasher movies a moment ago, Halloween and Friday the 13th," Harry continued. "Are you a horror fan?"
Jill hesitated. Her eyes shifted, left to right and back again. She wasn't comfortable with where this interview was going. Neither was Darlene. This was beginning to feel less like an interview and more like an interrogation.
"Yes," Jill answered. "My dad..." She paused. "I used to watch horror movies with my dad. And he would read to me."
"Your dad read horror books to you?" Harry asked.
Jill nodded. "Stephen King, mostly."
"Stephen King," Harry said. "Interesting choice. So I can see why you and Richard got along so well in the three weeks that you knew him. As I'm sure you know, Richard was fascinated by horror movies, as well. And that's putting it mildly."
"Yeah," Jill said, her eyes moving about the room. "We talked about it a lot."
"I'll bet."
His tone was condescending, Darlene thought. She wanted to lean into him, tell him to reign it in a bit.
"You and Richard talked horror movies quite a bit," Harry continued. "Anything else?"
"Books," Jill said. "We both liked Stephen King."
"What about games?" Harry asked.
"Games?"
"Specifically, role-playing games."
She hesitated, shook her head. "No."
"Think about it for a moment, Jill. Did Richard say or do anything that might have led you to believe that he and the other kids would be playing some kind of game the night you went camping, acting out horror movie scenarios?"
Jill took a moment. "No. All we did was drink beer."
Harry sighed and nodded.
In the palpable silence that followed, Darlene knew that Jill was telling the truth. She wasn't so sure about Harry.
Chapter Fourteen
Amanda rose from her chair when the detectives stepped out of the room. Thank goodness, it was over. Thank goodness, she didn't have to hear any of what Jill had told them. She pretty much already knew what Jill had told them. She wasn't a stupid woman. She knew what the sullied were up to that night. She knew that they were trying to corrupt her daughter. But she didn't need to hear it from her daughter's mouth. The sullied were dead, and her daughter was alive. And she was alive because she wasn't one of them, not yet. The sullied hadn't corrupted her, and God was giving her a second chance. It was just a matter of what she was going to do with that second chance.
"What happened to my daughter?" Amanda asked. "What did she say?"
"Well, she and the other kids were drinking," Darlene said. "Jill blacked out."
Amanda put up a hand. "Please...I really don't want to hear about that. I want to know what happened to her out there...after all of that."
She watched the detectives exchange glances, and she knew what they were thinking: She didn't want to hear about her daughter drinking, but she wanted to hear about her daughter being attacked. She didn't know these detectives very well, but she had to assume that they were among the sullied. And being among the sullied, they simply wouldn't understand what she understood: An unsullied mother can bear the thought of her child being attacked, surviving, and moving on, but an unsullied mother can't bear the thought of her child being corrupted by the sullied.
"Your daughter says that she was attacked by a man in a ski mask," Harry said. "She says that he stabbed her in the stomach, they struggled with the knife, and her attacker fell on the knife."
"Is he dead?" Amanda asked.
Harry said, "We have four dead at the scene, Mrs. Turner. We're not at liberty to say more than that right now. We can only tell you what Jill told us."
"But one of those four is probably the man who attacked her," Amanda said. "She fought and killed him. That's why she's still alive."
>
"We don't know exactly what happened yet," Darlene said. "Like my partner said, we're still trying to sort everything out."
Amanda narrowed her eyes. "Are you accusing my daughter of lying, Detectives?"
Darlene shook her head. "We're not accusing anybody of anything, Mrs. Turner. But this is an ongoing investigation."
"Who was the man in the ski mask?"
"We didn't say there was a man in a ski mask," Darlene said. "We're just telling you what your daughter told us."
Amanda felt the heat rising to her face. "So you are accusing my daughter of lying."
Detective Moore said, "We're not accusing your daughter of lying, Mrs. Turner. But again, this is an ongoing investigation. We're not at liberty to divulge details about the case beyond what your daughter told us."
Amanda took a deep breath and nodded. "I understand. I'm just glad my daughter's okay."
"I'm not sure she's gonna be okay, Mrs. Turner," Detective Moore said. "I mean, physically, yes, she's going to recover. But emotionally, psychologically, she's not gonna be okay for a long time. She's going to need a lot of help."
Amanda simply nodded.
Detective Moore said, "We're gonna need to come back tomorrow, if that's okay."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Amanda asked.
"Your daughter was pretty out of it, Mrs. Turner," Detective Mitchell said. "We'd like to interview her again when her head is clear."
"She's severely traumatized, Detective. It's gonna be quite some time before her head is clear."
"Of course," Detective Mitchell said. "But I was referring to the medication."
"Could you at least give her a few days to rest?" Amanda said.
"We'd like to interview her again while the details are still fresh in her mind," Detective Mitchell said. "The longer we wait, the more she's likely to forget."
Amanda hesitated before nodding her assent. "I guess we'll see you tomorrow, then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to spend some time with my daughter."
Without another word, she stalked back to her daughter's room.
The detectives would be coming back tomorrow, and she didn't like it; she didn't like it one bit. Jill was severely traumatized. She wasn't thinking clearly, and she wouldn't be thinking clearly for a long time. And the more she told the detectives, the more likely she was to tell them everything.
Chapter Fifteen
"There's something she's not telling us," Harry said as he and Darlene strolled the hospital corridors. "I feel like she's holding something back, something important."
Darlene shook her head. "Well, if she's holding something back, it's important, but she's not holding anything back." She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks.
"Okay," Harry said.
"She's a victim, Harry." She practically barked the words at him.
Harry appeared taken aback. He stopped walking, placing his hands on his hips. She turned to face him.
"What?" she asked.
Harry hesitated. "We're partners."
She nodded. "That we are."
"We're partners for a reason. We bounce ideas off of each other. We complete each other."
Darlene couldn't help but laugh at that one. "You complete me, Harry."
Harry smiled. "Okay, not the best choice of words, but you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean."
"So I should be able to share my ideas without having you jump down my throat."
"Is that what I did?"
"No, but you were about to. You came pretty damn close."
She held her tongue, considered her words, and realized pretty quickly that he was right. "I'm sorry. I'm just..." Her voice trailed off. Just what? Defensive of the girl? A little too close to the case?
"It's okay," Harry said. "I get it."
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You did the right thing," she muttered.
Harry cupped a hand to his ear. "What was that?"
Darlene managed a smile. "You did the right thing. You went after her in a way I never could, not with her." She paused. "Good work, Detective Mitchell."
Harry smiled. "Do I detect a note of sarcasm?"
"Nope. What you're detecting is regret."
"Regret about what?"
"About my role in all of this." She looked past Harry and let out a long sigh. "Day one of our investigation, and I'm already letting my emotions cloud my judgment. I don't even know the girl, and I'm already so protective of her. I never would have asked the questions you asked. I never would have gone after her the way you did back there. Anybody else, yes. But not her." She paused. "God, she reminded me so much of Brittany."
"Are you having doubts?" Harry asked. "Do you wanna step away?"
Darlene considered the questions. "Yes, I'm having doubts. No, I don't wanna step away. I need this case, and more importantly, much more importantly, I think she needs me on this case, if that makes any sense."
Harry nodded. "I think it makes plenty of sense."
But she wasn't sure that Harry was convinced. She wasn't entirely convinced herself.
"I'm just gonna need you to keep me in check, if that's okay."
Harry smiled. "You got it, partner."
They walked.
"So what do you think?" Harry asked.
"I think she was telling the truth." Or is that what she wanted to believe? "What do you think?"
"You're gonna hate me for saying this."
"Say it anyway, Harry."
"I think she's lying to us. Or at the very least, she's not telling us the whole truth."
Darlene took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She considered his words and said, "I don't hate you, Harry."
"Oh, good."
"Why? Why do you think she's lying to us?"
"It's the way she told the story," Harry said. "The look on her face, the little pauses here and there. It's like she was making it up as she went along. Like when she looked behind her and didn't see anybody, then turned around, and Richard was standing in front of her. It was like something out of a horror movie."
"It had some odd moments. I'll grant you that, but give the girl a break. She's been to hell and back. She's heavily medicated, and she's confused. We'll interview her again when her head is clear."
"I don't think her head is ever gonna be clear."
"I meant the drugs, but yeah, she has a long road ahead of her."
Harry nodded. "All right, so what do you think happened?"
"Like I said, her story had some odd moments, but most of what she told us is true. I think Richard Caulfield killed Gary Butler, Jessica Lewis, and Denise Richardson."
"Where was Jill while all of this was happening?"
"Jill was passed out, just like she said. The girl had never touched a drop of alcohol. Suddenly, Richard is pushing it on her. She was wasted and passed out in the woods."
"Convenient," Harry said.
"For her, yes."
"Okay, what happened next?"
Darlene sighed. "Jill woke up and heard screaming, just like she said. She stumbled back to the campsite, where Richard was waiting for her."
They reached the bank of elevators. Harry stopped to press the down button, but Darlene kept on walking.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked.
Darlene looked back over her shoulder. "The stairs. It's one floor down, Harry. Come on, we're young."
Harry caught up to her. "We're not that young."
"Pssh. Speak for yourself."
"So..." Harry said as they reached the stairwell door.
"So..." Darlene echoed as she pushed through the door and descended the steps ahead of him.
"So I have a quick question that I know you must have asked yourself," Harry said.
"Shoot."
"Jill Turner is a hundred pounds soaking wet, and she was so drunk that she passed out in the woods. He could have easily killed Jill Turner." A pause. "Why did he let her live?"
If he had a
sked the question moments earlier, before he'd called her out for nearly losing her temper, he probably would have pushed her over the edge. But he was right; she had asked herself the same question. Four people dead. One of those four was more than likely the perp. One left Blydenburgh Park with a superficial injury.
She reached the first landing, stopped, and looked up at Harry. "She fought back," Darlene suggested. "There was a struggle, she got her hands on the knife, and she stabbed him. It's the only explanation that makes sense."
Harry nodded, but he clearly wasn't buying it.
Though she wasn't ready to admit it, she wasn't sure she was buying it either.
Chapter Sixteen
Her mother returned to her bedside, but Jill didn't want her there. The detectives had told her mother everything, told her that Jill had been sullying herself at the campsite, and now her mother was peering into her soul. Her mother wouldn't even look at her; she couldn't look at her. That's how Jill knew. When her mother couldn't look at her, Jill knew that she was peering into her wicked soul. And when she didn't speak, Jill knew her mother was passing judgment on her. Jill hated it when her mother wouldn't look at her. She hated it more when her mother wouldn't speak to her. She would rather have her mother come right out and say it; she would rather have her mother call her the sullied little girl that they both knew her to be. In fact, Jill was determined to get it out in the open. She was determined to hear her mother say it. Anything was better than the insufferable silence. She looked at her mother, attempting to will the words from her mouth.
Her mother must have felt Jill's eyes on her because she gave her sullied daughter a passing, nervous glance and asked, "Is there something on your mind?"
"Do you want to talk about it?" Jill asked. "Do you want me to tell you what happened?"
Her mother forced a smile without looking at Jill. "You don't have to tell me what happened."
"But I want to tell you what happened."
"The detectives told me what happened. You killed the person who did this to you. It was self-defense. You don't have anything to worry about."
"That's not what I mean," Jill said. "I went to the campsite with those kids to sully myself."
The Final Girl Page 7
