Down By The Water

by Cruise, Anna

  “Ty—”

  He shook his head. “No. Don't thank me. Hell, don't even talk to me.”

  “What?”

  “If you think I did something to hurt your sister.” A muscle in his jaw twitched and he swallowed before speaking again. “To hurt Annie...” He took a deep breath. “How could you even think that? After everything that's happened? How?”

  “I...I don't think that,” I muttered.

  “Yeah,” he said. “You do. You lumped me in with your round up of suspects. Because we were all around when both things happened.”

  “I don't think of you as a suspect,” I protested.

  His eyes were dark with anger. “Bullshit.”

  “I don't,” I said. I stared at the door handle, wishing it would open and I could somehow be transported to anywhere other than where I was sitting. “I was angry. Upset. I mean, why am I the only one under suspicion when all of us were here?”

  “Look at me,” he commanded.

  Reluctantly, I lifted my eyes back to his.

  “I didn't kill your sister. I didn't lure her away from your tent.” His voice was thick with revulsion. “And I didn't hurt Annie.”

  I nodded quickly. “I believe you.” And I did. Or at least I wanted to believe him.

  “I'll admit, I was pissed when I found out about you.” His grip loosened and he drummed his fingers on the vinyl fabric that encased the wheel. “But that was because I felt like you lied to me. You know? But after that? After you explained everything to me? I've been your biggest ally. Your biggest supporter. I've been the one to ask questions, to try to get to the bottom of things. Even when you didn't want to. You really think I'd be doing all that if I was trying to cover up something I'd done?” He shook his head in disgust.

  I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I felt like a fool. And a bitch. All he'd done was try to help and I'd thrown wild accusations in his face, accusations I had no right to make.

  “I'm sorry,” I whispered. I lifted my hand from the door handle and hesitated before reaching out to touch his leg. He flinched and I drew back, hurt and embarrassed.

  “I'm just trying to help,” he said softly. “That's all I want to do. I just want to help.”

  “I know,” I said. I felt the sting of tears again but these weren't for my sister. “And I'm sorry.”

  “Let me help you,” he said. He looked at me and the anger in his eyes was gone. His gaze burned into me, full of intensity and longing and another emotion I wasn't prepared for, an emotion I didn't deserve.

  “Please,” he said, his voice raw. “Just let me help you.”

  The tears spilled on to my cheeks just as he reached for me. He crushed me against his chest, his arms tightening like a vise around me. He buried his face in my hair and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him tightly to me.

  I didn't speak, just held him.

  I was still confused and I still had more questions than answers but I realized then that I had something else, too. Something I didn't expect and something I wasn't sure I deserved.

  I had Ty.

  THIRTY THREE

  Jenna found me and Ty in the kitchen. We'd never grabbed breakfast and, after pulling myself back together, he'd led me directly into the kitchen and was rummaging for food when my sister waltzed in.

  She was dressed in her running clothes, earbuds looped around her neck. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her cheeks red from exertion. She leaned up against the counter, her breathing still heavy.

  Ty set a plate in front of me. Two slices of warm, buttered banana bread, at least a dozen chocolate chips embedded in it. I inhaled the aroma and picked up a slice.

  “I might be hungry, too,” Jenna said to Ty. “You know, since I just ran like ten miles.”

  He stared at her for a minute before slicing off another piece. Wordlessly, he slapped it on a plate and handed it to her.

  “You're not going to butter it for me?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Since when are you so helpless?” I asked.

  She looked at me. “Hmm. I dunno. Maybe about the same time you decided you couldn't butter your own breakfast?”

  I started to respond but Ty stopped me. “Give it a rest, Jenna,” he said.

  She stiffened at the reprimand in his tone but she didn't argue, just grabbed the butter knife on the counter and attacked her bread.

  Ty stuffed a piece in his mouth and washed it down with a glass of orange juice. “I'm gonna do my morning run.”

  “Run?” Jenna perked up. “I didn't know you ran. I would have waited for you.” She let her voice trail off suggestively and it took all of my self-control to not kick her in the shin. She'd just spent the night with Sven, she knew I was interested in Ty and there she was, flirting with him.

  “I meant the campsites,” he told her. “Do my morning walk-through.”

  Her face fell a little. “Oh.”

  He turned his attention to me. He stepped a little closer, his thigh brushing against mine. “You okay?” he asked, lowering his voice.

  I nodded.

  “You sure?” His eyes locked with mine and I could see the concern in them.

  “I'm okay.”

  Jenna watched our exchange with unabashed interest but it Ty noticed, he didn't say anything. Instead, he squeezed my shoulder and planted a swift kiss on top of my head before sauntering out of the kitchen.

  My sister stared at me, “So maybe you did get to second base, after all,” she commented. “Or maybe a little farther.”

  I wasn't in the mood for her. “Shut up.”

  “Did you go all the way?” She spoke slowly, emphasizing each word, her eyes widened in mock surprise. “Is that why he was asking if you were okay? Oh my god, Lily. You're not a virgin, are you?”

  I shot her a disgusted look. “Jesus, Jenna. Just shut the fuck up.”

  She laughed. “Ah, there's the sister I know.” She picked at her piece of banana bread, tearing off a corner and putting it in her mouth. She chewed slowly. “You gonna tell me where you guys went this morning? And what you did? I don't need details. Well, not too many, anyway.”

  “Nothing happened this morning,” I snapped.

  “Where did you go?”

  I moved away from the counter and fished inside the refrigerator for the container of orange juice. I'd drained my glass immediately. I sloshed juice into the cup and screwed the lid back on.

  “I'm waiting,” she said.

  My sister was a lot of things. A bitch sometimes and a whore a lot of the times. But she was also persistent. And I knew she wasn't going to let it go.

  I brought the cup to my lips and took a small sip. “We went and talked to Ty's ex-girlfriend.” I could feed her bits of information, I thought. Because I certainly wasn't going to tell her everything.

  Her lips curved into a sadistic smile. “Oh, really? Do I even want to know where that went? Our good old country boy has some kinky tendencies, maybe?”

  “Good God. No.”

  She pouted. “Hmm. A shame. I wouldn't have minded trying out a threesome with him.”

  I slammed the cup down on the counter, ready to strike but she held up her hand, laughing. “Settle down, settle down. I'm kidding. Jesus, you're wound tight.” She ate another piece of bread, licking off the butter that clung to her upper lip. “What is wrong with you? I'm just messing around.”

  I stared at her. Her expression was one of amusement, her eyes clear and focused. There was no malice in her tone, no hardness in her eyes. Maybe she really was just screwing with me. And maybe I was wound tighter than I realized.

  “We went to talk to her,” I said.

  Jenna reached out for my glass of juice and took a drink before I could stop her. “Why?”

  I didn't want to tell her about the file. I didn't want to bring up what was mentioned in it and what evidence was missing. She'd never known about the supposed bruise. When the sheriff had come to visit us at our house, she'd been gone, at a friend's house for the
afternoon. It was one of those things that we didn't talk about afterwards, that my parents and I had sort of shoved out of the rug. Out of sight, out of mind, as if that would solve everything, make the accusations and suspicions miraculously disappear.

  “She works at the county offices.”

  Jenna raised her eyebrows. “And you went to see her why?”

  I shrugged. “Ty thought she might have some information about the case.” I didn't elaborate as to which case I was talking about.

  My sister narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head and braced her palms on the counter. “Jorgenson already has it in for you. And I know, I know. You wanna prove him wrong, let him know that he's got it all backwards. I don't blame you. But sniffing around county offices? Talking to people about case files? Don't you think that's gonna come off as a little suspicious if he gets wind of it?”

  “How's he gonna find out?”

  Jenna shrugged. “I dunno. But people talk, Lily. I mean, the chick you talked to is Ty's ex-girlfriend. You really think she's gonna keep her mouth shut? That she's on your side?”

  I didn't say anything because it was exactly what I'd thought when Ty had first told me about her.

  “I don't know what you think you're gonna find,” Jenna said, shoving the last piece of bread into her mouth. Her eyes narrowed again and there was an edge to her voice when she spoke. “But you should know one thing. You can't trust anyone.”

  THIRTY FOUR

  Jenna's words echoed in my head as I headed outside. I needed a chance to clear my head, to think, and I couldn't do that with Ty or my sister around.

  The morning clouds had dissipated, leaving an azure sky above, the air already thick with moisture and heat. Yesterday's storm had done nothing to lessen the humidity and I felt the sweat bead on my forehead and under my arms. It was going to be hot.

  I thought about going inside and grabbing the swimsuit I'd been loaned. Slipping into it and heading to the pool and letting the water and sun melt away all of the thoughts swirling inside my head. I could try to relax, try to forget about what had happened and what I was suspected of and what the future might hold if Sheriff Jorgenson had his way.

  But I couldn't stop thinking about the file Caroline had given us. And about what my sister had said.

  You can't trust anyone.

  She was right. She'd voiced my exact concern from earlier in the morning when I'd exploded at Ty in the truck. There were too many coincidences and too many suppositions. And nothing was adding up. The more information I got from people, the more confused I was. And, if I was being honest with myself, the more afraid.

  I stopped at the gate to the pool, hesitating. I could turn around and head back to the house. Put the blue bikini on and disappear for a few hours, not think about a single thing other than the heat of the sun and the cool water on my skin.

  But that would just be a diversion. A distraction.

  And the things I was wondering about would still be there when the sun disappeared.

  I took a deep breath and made my decision.

  Five minutes later, I was standing in front of the Phillips' lot. The fire ring was empty, a pile of gray ashes in the center. Their camper was closed up, the curtains drawn tight. And their car was gone.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I spun around. Cheryl Phillips was behind me, a laundry basket of freshly folded clothes balanced on her hip. There was a washer and dryer on site, housed in the campground bathrooms attached to the pool. She must have followed me down the trail.

  “I...I was just out for a walk.”

  She held the basket in one arm and brushed at a piece of hair that had slipped free of her ponytail. “But you stopped here. Did you need something?”

  Her voice was friendly, not accusatory at all. She sounded like she expected me to ask to borrow a cup of sugar or something.

  I shook my head. “No. Not really.”

  She started walking and I stepped aside.

  “Annie still okay?” I asked.

  She set the laundry basket down on the picnic table positioned next to the gravel driveway of their lot.

  “Yep.” She smiled. “She's fine.”

  I nodded. “Good. I'm glad.” I hesitated. “And...your husband? And son?”

  A frown flitted across her face but she replaced it with another smile, a smaller one. “Jake is fine. We haven't told him much. Dave...” her voice trailed off. “Dave's fine, too. He wanted to leave. I told him no.”

  “No?”

  She leaned against the picnic table and folded her arms. “Annie might not be very verbal but she knows what's going on. We've been talking about this trip for weeks. Months, even. I've gone over and over with her where we'd be going, how long we'd be staying. Autistic kids...” her voice trailed off. She took a deep breath and started again. “They need routine. They need things to happen the way we tell them things are going to happen. At least that's how it is with Annie. We've been here four days. We told her we'd be staying a week. If we left now?” She shook her head. “There'd be hell to pay.”

  I thought for a minute, considering her words. “That makes sense, “ I said. “But even with...what happened?”

  Cheryl shrugged, trailing her fingers along the sun-weathered table top. “She seems okay. I watched her pretty carefully yesterday. Whatever happened...she seems okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “I think so. It's hard to read her.” She blinked a few times, and I could see the tears pooling in her eyes. “The smallest things set her off and the big things—the things you think she should freak out over—just roll off her back. I just never know.”

  I shifted on my feet, feeling awkward. I wanted to reach out, to find some way to comfort her, but I didn't know how.

  “Last night,” she continued, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again. “Last night she was agitated after the sheriff left. If David had mentioned leaving then, I probably would have done it. No questions asked. Just packed up and headed home. But this morning?” She smiled through the tears that trickled down her cheeks. “She woke up smiling. She came out of the camper and ate breakfast with us right at this table. She laughed.” She shook her head. “So stupid. My kid laughs and it's like it makes my day. My week.”

  My heart ached for her. I had no idea what it was like to live with someone with a disability and I didn't really understand what autism was. But I could tell, listening to Cheryl talk, that she absolutely loved her daughter, that she craved those moments of interaction that she got from her. I felt my throat constrict a little because, even though I couldn't relate to what she was feeling, I had similar wants and desires. I wanted to hear my youngest sister laugh. See her smile one more time. Know that she was happy and let her know that she was loved.

  And I would never have that chance.

  I cleared my throat, as much to stem the tears that threatened as to bring myself to speak, to ask the question that had suddenly popped into my head.

  “Do you think...do you think she might talk to me? Or at least listen to me?”

  Cheryl's features clouded.

  “I won't upset her,” I said quickly. “I just...I'd really like to talk to her.”

  She shook her head. “But I already told you. She's not verbal.”

  I shoved my hands in the pockets of my shorts. “I know,” I said.

  “Talking to her wouldn't do anything,” she told me. “She can't offer any answers.”

  I kicked at the gravel driveway with my sandal. A pebble wedged between my toes and I tried to shake it free. “Okay.”

  “I don't understand,” Cheryl said. She straightened. “Why do you want to talk to her? What is it you hope to learn from her?”

  I stared at the ground, at the mix of black and gray stones in the driveway. I didn't know how much I wanted to tell her. She knew the sheriff suspected that I was somehow involved in what
had happened; she'd told me as much. But I hadn't hinted to her what Ty had suggested and what I now suspected. That maybe, just maybe, there was something at work here that was more than just mere coincidence. And that I wanted to find out what it was.

  I thought again about my sister's words.

  You can't trust anyone.

  I wanted to. I wanted to trust everyone, to shriek from the goddamn rooftops that I was innocent of what the sheriff was insinuating about me. I wanted to talk until I was blue in the face about how his supposed evidence didn't add up, how he was dragging my name and my reputation through the mud based on his own opinions and beliefs, not evidence.

  “She looks like my sister,” I finally said. “Same blond hair. Same age.”

  Cheryl watched me and said nothing.

  “So I see her and it's like I can talk to my sister again.” My voice was low. “That's all.” It wasn't but I knew I couldn't share the real reason.

  Cheryl's features softened and I could see a fresh surge of tears begin to blossom.

  “I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm sorry about your sister, Lily. I'm sorry for everything.”

  I nodded. I was sorry, too. Because I knew that I was no closer to figuring out what happened to Annie. Or what had happened to my sister.

  THIRTY FIVE

  A surprise was waiting for me the next morning.

  Sheriff Jorgenson was perched on the loveseat in the Reilly's living room, his hat resting on his knee. He looked up when he saw me.

  “Lily.”

  I nodded cooly, trying to hide my surprise. “Sheriff.”

  I'd returned from the Phillips' campsite the previous afternoon and immediately stripped out of my clothes and into Mary's borrowed bathing suit. Ty had joined me and we'd spent the rest of the day at the pool, an uneasy silence between us as we purposely avoided talking about the file or our conversations in the truck. We'd eaten dinner with his parents and Jenna, alternating between silence and stilted conversations, and I'd quickly disappeared afterward, holing myself up in the guest bedroom. Even my sister hadn't bothered to follow me upstairs and I imagined she'd drifted off to spend the night with Sven.