Dead Girls Don't Lie

by Marlie May

  I shook her harder, which made her eyes pop open.

  “Oh, Janine, honey. What are you doing here?” With all the slurring, only half of her words made sense. She blinked around, swiping her hair off her face. “Wow. I musta been tuckered out if I fell asleep on the sofa.”

  Tuckered out. Right.

  “Time to sit up,” I said like I would to a little kid. Not much difference at the moment. With considerable urging, I got her onto her butt with her feet planted solidly on the floor. “Come on, Aunt Kristy. You need to stand.”

  “Stand?” Her eyes widened.

  I scooped underneath her arms and leaned backward, putting my thighs into the motion. “Up you go.”

  Her legs wobbled, and she flailed her arms as she straightened. “Whoa, Janine.” Petite like my mom, she smiled up at me, patting my shoulders. “Baby girl, you’re strong.”

  Not strong enough.

  “Come on, Aunt Kristy. Let’s go upstairs.” With my arm around her back, I helped her up to the guest room, where she’d slept since she moved in. She flopped onto the bed and belched.

  Sighing, I took her shoes off but she’d have to handle the rest on her own, because my ward duty did not include pulling off clothing. Out in the hall, I shut the door and leaned against it, shaking my head. Wasn’t this just awesome?

  I started down the hall but halted outside my parents’ room. Avoidance had become my norm here; I hadn’t been inside since before the accident.

  Reaching out with a trembling hand, I wrapped my fingers around the knob and shuddered. Why had I expected it to be warm as if one of my parents had recently touched it?

  It was colder than the death they’d found in the ebony sea.

  Something told me to leave this alone. Opening their door would widen the crack in my heart when it had only recently started to seal. If I asked, my aunt could clean out the room, but pieces of Mom and Dad lived here, the only bits of them I could still cling to.

  Opening the door, I stepped inside. I cupped my face with my hands, closed my eyes, and inhaled the lingering essence of Chanel No 5.

  Mom.

  I walked around the bed, trailing my fingertips on the bedspread, a bright floral pattern she’d loved. Framed cross stitch pictures hung on the wall—Mom had made them. The watch I’d given Dad for Christmas sat on the lacy cloth covering his bedside table. I slid it on my wrist. Even though it wanted to slip back over my hand, I’d wear it.

  Climbing up onto their bed, I stretched out, resting my head on Mom’s pillow. Eyes closed, I imagined for one second that my parents were here with me. Lying on either side, protecting me.

  My eyes shed tears that seeped down my face. Losing them was worse than having my heart ripped from my chest. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

  “I’m going to find out what happened and who did this to you,” I whispered. “I promise.”

  The temptation to stay here all night surrounded by their possessions filled me. Being wrapped in their essence wouldn’t bring them back. Whatever hollow comfort I found here would disappear come morning.

  Sitting up, I wiped my eyes and slid off the bed. Mom’s open closet doors beckoned me, and I walked over and slid my fingers along her dresses, making them sway as if they were alive. Left like she’d stepped out after dressing for a party, I could almost pretend she’d return and joke about me trying them on.

  Dad’s closet next, filled with suits and dress shirts. His golf clubs. A rifle. And, on the shelf suspended above the clothes rod, a small metal box. I carried it over and dropped it on the bed.

  Locked.

  “Key,” I whispered, peering around. Where would Dad leave it? It wasn’t on his or Mom’s side table. I pawed through each bureau drawer then stood back and stared around the room, frowning. Crawling on the carpet, I slid my hand between the mattress and box spring, but found nothing.

  This mystery might take some time to solve, but I was determined to figure it out.

  I left their room with the metal box and dropped it in my room.

  5

  I was contemplating finding a hammer to break the box open when my phone chimed.

  A text from Sean. Swim meet tomorrow. You coming?

  I…can’t. I’m sorry. The water. I keep seeing flames.

  I’m glad you’re starting to remember.

  Just a few things. It’s skimpy. A fire and me swimming to shore. Nothing concrete. Except me and Brianna laughing, but that might not be related to that night. I’d remembered nothing that would help me understand what happened or give him comfort.

  Tell me if you remember more, okay? he texted. As much as it hurts, I need to know.

  Of course. Once it all made sense. No, once I’d discovered who’d murdered them.

  I worry about you, he texted.

  And I worried about him. The comfort I’d found in my parents’ room disappeared, replaced by the urge to cry. If only Sean was here so I could hug him and have him hug me back. There was nothing worse than feeling alone. Where would I be without my friend?

  Let me know how the swim meet goes. I texted.

  Will do.

  By the next morning, I still hadn’t decided what I could do next. I’d taken the letter from Dad’s office, read through it again without discovering any more facts, and gone through my Murder List.

  This investigation was going nowhere.

  Should I have brought it up at Mr. Trudale’s office yesterday? My parents trusted him. He could’ve given me insight but then my aunt would know what I’d found.

  While eating breakfast, I couldn’t hold myself back. “Why didn’t you want me to know about the accident report?”

  Coffee cup halfway toward her mouth, Aunt Kristy stared at me, stunned. “You…read it?” Her trembling hand lowered the cup to the table. “Oh, honey. You shouldn’t have.”

  “It says it was a homicide. Everyone was murdered!”

  Tears filled her eyes. “My big brother meant everything to me.” She lifted her napkin off her lap and blotted her face. “Did you know? He used to walk me to the bus stop. Wait with me to keep the bigger kids from picking on me. I was skinny. Nervous all the time. What today you would call socially awkward. He never made fun of me like they did.”

  How could I know that? She’d never been a part of my life.

  “Talking about this.” The breath rushed from her lungs. “About him. Well, it kills me. I can’t bear to remember it. Don’t you understand?”

  I huffed. I did understand. It was all I could do not to break down whenever I thought about my loss. But she’d hid this from me.

  “Can’t we leave it to the police?” she said.

  “But we have to do something about it.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Question the police?”

  She threw her napkin onto her half-finished breakfast and rose to her feet, bracing herself against the table when her body shook. “I just…I can’t.”

  I gaped after her as she fled from the room.

  There went my attempt to get answers.

  She might want to let it go, but I couldn’t. My parents…Brianna. They deserved justice.

  Two days later, I still hadn’t figured out how I’d investigate this further. It wasn’t like I could stroll into the police station and demand they let me review their own Murder List.

  By then, Aunt Kristy had polished off the rest of the wine bottles she’d purchased and the ones Mom and Dad left in the kitchen cupboard, proving that reminding her about the accident had not been my wisest decision. Sure, it was the weekend when people relaxed and had a few drinks, but really. Getting drunk all the time wasn’t helping the situation.

  I hated that she couldn’t be strong for both of us.

  Worried about what this meant for our future, I’d spent most of the weekend playing guardian. Which meant on Monday morning, I overslept and showed up late to English.

  The only true benefit in slipping inside after the last bell meant I co
uld avoid Brandon.

  My teacher frowned. “Ms. Davis. You’re late.”

  I slunk between the desks, seeking a place to sit. “Sorry.” If I kept this up, I’d break through everyone’s good graces and sink all the way to the mud-encrusted bottom.

  “Here, Janie.” Brandon pointed, lifting his textbook off the chair beside him.

  Thanks, but no thanks.

  Manuel’s eyes met mine, and he nudged the guy sitting beside him with his elbow. The guy got up and strolled over to take the seat next to Brandon, who proceeded to kick the chair in front of him until the girl with dreads sitting there turned and hissed. Kudos to her. Brandon deserved hissing.

  I slid into the now-empty place beside Manuel. “Thanks.” Maybe. While I’d progressed beyond Emanuel, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to proceed further with Manuel. But that skip in my heart and Brianna’s little voice whispering in my ear, go for it! suggested things could be progressing despite my best intentions.

  His eyes met mine. Dark brown with particularly nice lashes. They went with his nice everything else. I shouldn’t be noticing things like this. I should be shutting him down, tuning him out. My heart had atrophied from pain.

  I didn’t have time for boys. Discovering who’d murdered my parents and friend was my sole priority.

  “I saved that seat for you,” he said. His confidence made him highly appealing, but I couldn’t let him in on that fact. Even if I wasn’t interested, guys needed to be managed. Another suggestion from Mom.

  I lifted my eyebrows. “You didn’t even know I was in this class.”

  “Sure did. Saw you the other day.”

  “I—”

  “Excuse me,” our teacher said. I squirmed under her white-hot gaze. “I’d like to start class now?”

  Color had to be creeping up my neck to overload in my face because it sure burned. Grunting, I pulled out my notebook and pen and leaned over them.

  Scratching notes, I ignored Manly. But I couldn’t keep my smile from lifting.

  That afternoon found me back in the library during free study hall. After staking out a table, I grabbed the AP Gov textbook from the shelf all on my own and sat in my now-usual location, determined to finish collecting notes for my test.

  A girl with long, wavy dark blonde hair sat at a table close to the wall, her back facing me. I swore she kept twisting around to peer in my direction but whenever I glanced up, she spun forward, so I couldn’t see who she was. Since I’d gotten used to people gawking at my arms, I decided to ignore her.

  It wasn’t as easy to ignore Manuel sitting at the front desk. While he wasn’t lounging back with a grin on his face, he’d lifted his eyebrows when I walked in. And deployed an eye twinkle that made my knees twitch.

  Ignore him.

  I was working on my second page of notes when Manuel strolled over and sat across from me.

  “Shouldn’t you be manning your desk, Manly?” I asked.

  He tipped back in his chair and grinned. “I like that you’ve adopted that nickname. Made it your own.”

  “I haven’t adopted that name or made it my own.” I struggled to keep my words from sounding snippy like I was some eighty-year-old virgin because, please. I could handle this. Handle Manly.

  He clunked his chair back on to the tiles, placed his forearms on the table, and whispered, “I think you have.”

  “There must be something you need to do for the library.” I flipped my hand around the general area. “Like, put away books, help someone find research materials, or locate Ms. Peterson.” Who’d disappeared. Again.

  A guy a few tables over cleared his throat, reminding me I was speaking too loudly, that this was a library, where silence was golden. On cue, Ms. Peterson strode out of her office and retook control of her desk. As if she knew I was the abandoned-textbook-perpetrator from the other day, she glared in my direction.

  I ducked my head to show her I’d behave.

  “I’m off duty for the rest of the day,” Manuel said softly, sweeping his arms wide. “My afternoon is yours.”

  “I need to study.” And the second I was done with this assignment, I was going to do a more thorough search online about Mr. Somerfield, my dad, and the app my father had developed. “And do some research.”

  “How about a little help with that? I’m a librarian. As you just pointed out, we’re good at finding resources.”

  Do not smile. “I think I can manage.”

  “What are you doing after study hall, then? Want to get a pizza?”

  “You can’t really be a librarian. That takes a college degree.”

  He shrugged. “Ms. Peterson calls me an honorary librarian.”

  I’d never thought librarians could be this…intriguing.

  “How much community service do you have to do, anyway?” I asked.

  “Not much.” He glanced downward, to where I’d laid my arms on the table. “What happened to you?”

  Cringing, I slid my sleeves back down and hid my hands under the table, on my thighs. My scowl came out easier. “Not much.”

  “Through October.”

  Two months of community service? That must’ve been quite a punch. With my eyes directed to my papers, I whispered, “Burns. A boat accident in July.”

  Actually, the incident involved murder, but I wasn’t going there.

  “I don’t mind,” he said.

  “What? Doing community service?”

  “Your scars.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, but it sent my head spinning. I liked that my scars didn’t bother him though I’d never believed I was solely made up of my surface. It shouldn’t matter what my skin looked like; I should be liked for what was underneath. “That’s kind of you.”

  “Crap. That’s not what I meant at all.” His face darkened.

  This conversation came across a tad too much like my hallway interaction with Brandon. Kids scraping back chairs around me suggested study hall was ending. I stood and started gathering up my papers. “I don’t need your pity.”

  Also standing, he looped his arms across his chest. “That’s good because you’re not getting it.”

  None of this made sense. “What do you want, Manuel?”

  He shrugged, but his posture drooped. “Whatever you want to give me, I guess.”

  “Friendship?”

  “That works.”

  Wait. Had I misread this entire situation?

  Every time I ran into this boy, my resolve to avoid getting involved with him disappeared. I needed to remember what truly mattered. Finding out who’d killed my family and friend. Getting good grades. Avoiding cute boys.

  “Friends it is.” He strolled away from me and out through the library door.

  Of course, I stared after him.

  6

  Without more clues, I’d never figure out what happened that night. If I could remember, I’d know what to do, but waiting for my memories to randomly come through was pointless. I needed to force them to the surface.

  While I wasn’t ready to take on the ocean, I felt up for the challenge of the Finley Cove High pool. Since I wasn’t sure how my memory-jarring plan would go, I waited until everyone else had left school in the afternoon and the pool was empty.

  I changed in the locker room, gulped back my fear, and strode out into the large, high-ceilinged room that housed the pool. Fluorescent lights suspended on cables hung from the particleboard ceiling. Water swished against the unnaturally-blue surround, creating flickering shadows along the walls, and my sinuses stung with the sharp tang of chlorine.

  After dropping my towel on the bench spanning the back wall, I squinted around, grateful to find myself alone. The door had been locked. I knew a secret way in, but that didn’t mean someone else hadn’t figured it out and arrived before me.

  Striding closer to the pool, I stood staring down at the bright blue water that should appear welcoming. I’d swum competitively here for years. Gone to innumerable pool parties here throughout my life,
splashing in the shallow end or venturing out deep. Water volleyball, Marco Polo. I shouldn’t be afraid of what had always been my happy place.

  Do it.

  My breathing ragged, I inched closer until I could perch my toes on the lip of the pool. One leap and I’d be submerged in the water…deep and dark. It would suck me down like a vortex.

  My heart raced, and I worried it would explode. Everything inside me told me to flee, but if I ran back to the locker room, I’d never find the courage to try again.

  Today was perfect for a swim. I could do fifteen, twenty slow laps then float and hope my memories came back.

  Stooping down, I skimmed my fingers along the surface, and I was pulled back in time instantly.

  His face etched with fear, Dad pushed me toward the yacht’s deck rail. “I can’t get the lifeboat to drop. Jump. Swim for shore. It’s not far. You can make it.”

  “Come with me,” I wailed.

  “I’ve got to get everybody.” He peered over his shoulder. “They’re still inside.”

  Smoke poured from the open hatch leading to the lower level.

  “I’ll help.” I strained to break free from his hold. I had to save my mom, Brianna.

  “I mean it. Jump, Janie. Please!”

  I grabbed the rail while he ran back to the hatch and disappeared down the stairs to the main cabin.

  My legs dangling over the side, I stared down, but couldn’t do it. I hauled myself back up on deck and rushed for the hatch, tumbling down the stairs and landing in a heap at the bottom.

  Groaning, my palms and knees stinging, I stared around in horror. The main cabin had become an inferno.

  A body—Brianna—lay by the far wall, her clothing on fire. Scrambling over to her, I put out the flames with my hands, screaming in pain while I did it. She moaned and…the agony in her eyes…it ripped me wide open.

  Dad entered from the hall with Mom in his arms. She wasn’t moving! No, please don’t let her be dead.

  “Go,” he shouted. “Get out of here, Janie.”

  “Brianna. Mom.”