Cruel Abandon

by S. Massery

  I stand there, unable to decide what to do. Hug her? Tell her everything will be okay? I can’t lie. I don’t want to do that. Hope is a powerful thing—that’s something my parents always told me. It can give a person life or destroy them.

  “You can tell me,” I offer.

  She nods once, wiping under her eye. “I admired Natalie. She and Whitney always made a point to come visit me during the summer. And I know it’s petty, but being around them made me feel good about myself. Like they were… deigning to hang out with me, I must be cool, right?”

  “The coolest,” I murmur.

  “I hate that I feel that way.” She kicks at the leaves. “I hate that I’m the one who rushed to Whitney’s side, and she didn’t once ask how I was handling everything.”

  “She…” I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. I’m not going to make excuses for how she’s been acting.”

  “After she went at you for saying Nat was dead… I don’t blame you.” She sneaks a glance at me. “Why are you so sure she’s gone, anyway?”

  I chew that over, then spit out what I’ve been worrying about for the past three days. “Isn’t it better than thinking she’s locked in some sadist’s basement?”

  She rears back, blinking. “I… wouldn’t have thought of that.”

  A normal person probably wouldn’t have. But then again, there’s been something bothering me about all of this. Everyone’s reactions—especially how easily it drew Liam out of the woodwork.

  He was content to make my life miserable from afar… and now he’s up close and personal.

  I touch my lips. The warning he graced me with before leaving me at the T stop this morning: Don’t do anything stupid.

  A repetitive phrase, if not somewhat predictable.

  And said with ill faith. It’s not like I set out to do stupid things.

  “Should we go?” she asks, pointing to the trail. “This is the path to the water tower. There should be a treatment plant on the hill above it, too.”

  “Right.”

  I’m not sure what else we’re here to do except take photos we could’ve searched for on the internet, but it’s also nice to just get out for the day. It’s warm with the sunshine filtering through the trees.

  “And what about you?” Taryn asks suddenly. “Did you see the press conference?”

  “Which one?”

  Natalie’s parents seemingly haven’t left the spotlight. We’ve heard pleas from them to return their baby girl, angry protesting that some monster has their child, the broken sobs from Natalie’s mother.

  “Just her mom from this morning,” she says. “She cried through the whole thing.”

  I wince. “I avoid them when I can.”

  Which is next to impossible, since Whitney’s parents never turn off the damn television.

  “They were talking about us going on. Like, to talk about how Natalie’s disappearance has affected stuff.”

  “Stuff?” I cock my head.

  “Classes, tests, our mental health.”

  “She’s been missing a week,” I point out. “There’s no long-term side effect yet.”

  “Yet.” She grimaces. “What if they never find her?”

  I shiver. It’s possible that she could be gone forever. How many ways are there to dispose of a body?

  A hundred? A thousand?

  We get deeper into the woods, and the more unnerved I become. I can’t even put my finger on why, exactly.

  “Bet you regret becoming my partner,” I mutter.

  She grabs my arm. “Why would you say that?”

  “I’m the outcast.” I shoot her a look that says, Obviously.

  She scoffs. “You’re only the outcast because you chose that role. You’re kind—Whitney wouldn’t have stuck around if you weren’t. And besides that little slip-up…” She smiles. “You have our backs. I feel weirdly compelled to tell you all my secrets because I know you’ll keep them.”

  That brings a smirk to my lips. “Don’t tell Liam that. I’m sure he’d disagree.”

  I don’t know if he’ll ever trust me again.

  But do I even want him to?

  We continue onward. The path to the water tower is narrow, curving along the hillside. To either side of us, the ground slopes down. One side is a lot steeper, though, riddled with fallen rocks and thin pines.

  “Wouldn’t want to end up down there,” Taryn says. She peers over the edge. “No-man’s-land.”

  I step up next to her. “I didn’t even realize we had climbed this high.”

  She shudders and moves away, and I pivot to follow her.

  The earth slides out beneath my boot without warning.

  Falling is a curious feeling. It seems to happen in slow motion—slow enough that I can distinctly recall sticking my arms out, pinwheeling, and being unable to stop. My knees hit the ground first, then a forearm.

  The mix of dried, fallen leaves and loose rock gives way, and suddenly my fall is more than that.

  “Skylar!” Taryn screams, running for me.

  I scrabble at the rocks as I’m pulled downhill. My slip becomes a tumble, and all I can do is protect my head on my way down. Finally, I slow to a stop, flat on my back.

  “Skylar, oh my god,” Taryn yells again, but it’s a lot farther away. Above me, on the little trail.

  Had I only been standing there a second ago?

  Branches snap, and the roll of gravel alerts me to the thought that she might be coming to rescue me. And maybe it’s not the best idea.

  I let my arms flop to the sides, taking mental inventory. Legs feel okay, so do my arms. Something warm drips into my ear, but nothing hurts too bad.

  My pride, maybe.

  I push myself up carefully and cough. Bright-red blood sprays onto my hand. The world rocks a bit, and my vision goes in and out.

  Tentatively, I touch my lips. My head takes a second to catch up with me, because it throbs. I discover a cut on my forehead, probing at my face.

  “I’m okay,” I call back to Taryn. “Just… banged up.”

  Stupid assignment.

  Stupid will to do well in school.

  “I’m coming down. Just—”

  I turn around. Taryn has frozen halfway down the hill, staring past me. Her hands dig into a small tree, and it seems to be the only thing holding her up.

  “Are you okay?” I head toward her.

  She releases the tree with one hand and points. Her whole body trembles.

  I spin.

  Not five feet from where I landed is a pile of loose dirt. I creep closer and then stop in my tracks.

  A woman lies in a shallow hole, half-buried. Dirt and leaves cover her, but not enough to hide her. Her hair is bright gold, splayed out around her like a halo. The sun catches it, even now. It’s the first thing that draws my attention—and then her face. Her eyes.

  They’re open, staring at the sky.

  Her hands are bound in front of her, and…

  I cover my mouth.

  There’s a gash across her throat. Her skin split open, stained red down her front.

  But worse than the horror of this moment is ice poured down my back: the familiarity.

  It’s Natalie.

  I stagger away and fall to my knees, my stomach twisting. I press my lips together.

  Do not puke, I order myself. Keep it together.

  “Skylar,” Taryn manages from a distance. “Get… get away from her.”

  I close my eyes and breathe.

  She doesn’t smell like a dead person. The only scent I catch is dirt and the coppery smell of blood, leaves, and fresh, cold wind. It blasts through me, but it isn’t enough to erase what I just saw.

  “Taryn, call the police,” I yell. “W-wait for them on the ridge.”

  I force myself back up.

  Taryn might not have recognized her—especially from that distance. Or if she did, she’s freaking out silently.

  Taryn is gone, her purple coat vanishing back up onto the trai
l, leaving me alone with Natalie.

  I find myself inching closer again.

  Her peacoat is splayed open, mud and leaves on the inside like it fell that way before her killer started to bury her. The blouse is ripped, leggings covered in dirt. At least her boots are still on her feet. Her last outfit.

  Did they grab her after she parted ways with Whitney on Friday night? Or did she put these clothes on Saturday morning, leave her apartment, and…

  Don’t.

  Natalie’s coat is open, her shirt raised a bit. Her wrists are bound in thin white rope. The knot…

  Memories flash in front of my eyes. It’s a movie I can’t control.

  —Run, now, my girl. Don’t look back—

  “No.” I stagger away, almost tripping over my own feet.

  My shoulder hits a tree, and I fall again. To my embarrassment, tears fill my eyes. I stare at the sky and blink away the liquid. I will not be affected by this.

  I won’t.

  I can’t.

  The sun shines dappled light onto the forest, glints hitting my face. The sky is a dazzling shade of blue, which is unusual for late October. We’ve only got two days to go before Halloween. By now, New England is having its last few good days and slipping toward snow.

  There was frost the other morning.

  Winter is approaching.

  So close, yet so far away. Whoever put her here almost got away with it for an entire season. She’d be buried in snow. She’d bloat and freeze, maybe animals would’ve gotten to her.

  When I close my eyes—slow blinks are all I can manage—I see the flash of red against her throat. Bright blood, still shiny.

  So recent, it might still hurt.

  “Here,” Tarryn yells after an eternity.

  I hadn’t realized she was close, maybe watching. Maybe not.

  “She—they’re down there.”

  “Two of them?” a man asks.

  Their voices float down to me.

  “Skylar was hiking with me,” Taryn answers. “She fell, that’s how—”

  “Okay, easy now. You stay up here, all right? Come on, McAdams.”

  Sliding, grunting, and finally, a face appears in my vision. A plainclothes detective, younger than I would’ve guessed, with a badge on his hip.

  I automatically flinch and bring my hands up to my face.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I sniffle, wiping under my nose with my sleeve. “Yes.”

  He extends his hand and lifts me back to my feet. He doesn’t release me until I’ve caught my balance, and I don’t notice that he’s peering at my forehead until his gloved thumb touches the wound there.

  I jerk back.

  “You might need stitches,” he says. “But the paramedics will check you out. I’m Detective Bill Ingles. Friends call me Billy.”

  “Okay,” I say. My gaze goes over his shoulder, to the detective I’m more familiar with. McAdams is at the hole—it’s a grave—squatting above Natalie.

  Billy rotates us slightly, until I can’t see her anymore.

  Not her. The body.

  “You spoke to Whitney,” I say in a wooden voice.

  “That’s right. You came to the station with her. You know her? Friends?”

  “Roommate.” I try swallowing, but my throat is dry.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” he asks.

  “Taryn and I were heading up to the water tower for pictures. It’s part of our assignment for Environmental Economics. We have to design a clean energy plan for another country and compare it to… here.” My head throbs. I’d kill for aspirin and a water bottle.

  My throat hurts like I had been screaming for the past hour.

  “Whose idea was it to come out here?”

  I rub at my eyelid, and my finger comes away sticky with blood. My stomach turns again. “I don’t remember.”

  “This area of the state park isn’t regularly patrolled. What made you want to come out here?”

  I don’t know. “There was a spring…”

  He nods. “And then you wandered off the path?”

  My clothes are covered in leaves and dirt. There’s some in my hair.

  “I fell,” I correct. “I’m sorry, I really don’t feel good.”

  The detective frowns. “The paramedics should be here soon. I just need your contact information.”

  I give it to him, and he tucks the paper into his back pocket. Once his attention is off me, I can breathe a bit easier. Well—until my line of sight lands on Natalie again.

  “She’s been missing,” I say faintly. “And now she’s… Is this related to Amber Huck?”

  He frowns, patting my shoulder. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal. Let me escort you back up the hill, and you can wait for the paramedics with one of our officers.”

  “Does Taryn know who it is?” I ask suddenly, latching on to his arm. “I can’t be the one to tell her.”

  He shakes his head once. “I know you were friends with Natalie, but I’m going to ask you to keep it between us for a little while. It’ll help our investigation.”

  Lie for them, in other words.

  “I… I guess.”

  He puts one hand on my back and propels me up the hill. Taryn waits with an officer, and they both stand at our arrival.

  “Take them down the trail for me, Sal?” the detective asks.

  The uniformed officer nods and leads the way down, moving slowly—probably for my benefit. The ground keeps tilting.

  Taryn holds on to my arm, keeping me steady.

  We make it back down to the reservoir, then through the trees to the parking lot. The detective’s car sits off to the side, and front and center is a waiting ambulance. The medical examiner’s large van pulls in just as the EMTs approach us.

  “That’s a nasty cut,” one says. “How about you take a seat here and we get this cleaned up?”

  I nod and let them escort me to the back of the ambulance. They dab at my forehead, and I close my eyes.

  “Skylar,” Taryn says.

  “What?” I mumble.

  “Your phone is ringing.”

  Oh, shit.

  I crack one eye open long enough to glance at the screen. Jake’s name scrolls across the top, a goofy picture of him under it.

  I silence it and stuff it back in my pocket. I’ll deal with him later.

  “The good news is, you don’t need stitches.” The EMT presses on a bandage and offers his hand, helping me stand. “How hard did you knock your head?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He grunts. “Okay, well, you could have a mild concussion. Do you have someone who can stay with you?”

  “I live with a roommate,” I offer.

  The roommate who’s still not talking to me.

  Luckily, Taryn was pulled aside by the officer. They’re around the side of the ambulance, and I think she’s giving him her version of events.

  This was supposed to be harmless.

  He packs up his bag and lists off symptoms I should watch out for. I step aside, watching for a moment.

  “How do you do it?” And then I roll my eyes. “Sorry, that’s probably a question everyone asks you, huh?”

  The EMT turns back around. “You mean helping people?”

  I look away. “Just seems like it’s all for nothing.”

  “It isn’t. I know you found something fucked up in the woods, but that doesn’t mean everyone is bad, or selfish. I like to think that I make a difference.”

  I guess.

  “Ready?” Taryn asks.

  I nod, then think better of it. My head still pounds.

  “I’ll give you a ride back,” the officer says. “This way.”

  We round the ambulance, and I’m shocked to see how many people have arrived. I missed all the commotion. There are at least three police SUVs, and someone has rolled crime scene tape across the entrance to the trail.

  The unsettled feeling returns, and my stomach flips. Nausea crawls up my throa
t.

  “How long will it take to identify the body?” Taryn asks.

  I try to hide my cringe.

  Her brows crinkle. “You didn’t recognize her, right? It wasn’t Natalie.”

  The officer’s gaze seeks out mine in the rearview mirror. I think he, too, is wondering what I’ll say. He didn’t see her. He was on the trail with Taryn, and then came back with us. His babysitting routine is taking him farther away from the action.

  “Her face was covered by her hair,” I say quietly. “And I didn’t try to move it.”

  “Rightly so,” the officer cuts in. “Disturbing a crime scene would just hinder the investigation.”

  Taryn shudders. “God, this is horrifying.”

  Horror—the same word I had used. It’s fitting.

  Then she adds, “My parents are going to freak out.”

  Mine will only freak out if I tell them. I grab Taryn’s hand. “Mine can’t find out. They’re already weird about this whole thing, and if I tell them we found—” I shake my head sharply, then pay for it with a sudden pulse of pain. “I’ll be interrogated. Whitney, my family, everyone will want to know what happened, and I can’t deal with that. I was the center of attention once and I hated it.”

  She squeezes. “It’ll be okay, Skylar. I’ll leave your name out of it. Okay?”

  I try to smile, but I can’t quite make it happen.

  Her gaze goes to my collar. “There’s blood on your shirt. I’m not sure how you’re going to explain away the cut on your head, either.”

  “I’m clumsy,” I say forcefully. “I fell getting home, hit my head on the stairs.”

  The officer shakes his head but says nothing.

  We ride in silence until Taryn’s apartment, and she scrambles out. She gives me a short wave, then disappears inside. We don’t move for several seconds.

  “You okay?” the cop asks me.

  “I don’t know.”

  He nods once and takes me home.

  I climb out, slowly closing the door. My muscles have gotten stiff in the car, and every joint screams at me.

  “Skylar?”

  I rotate back toward the officer.

  He extends his card to me. “Call if you need anything, okay?”

  A friendly neighborhood watchdog.

  I take the card. Much like McAdams’s partner’s, I tuck it into my pocket. All I want right now is a hot shower. My limbs are numb, and a chill has settled into my bones. It takes me two tries to unlock the front door, and another few attempts at my apartment door.