Dead Girls Don't Keep Secrets

by Ames B Winterbourne

  It’s surreal to think she wanted to be free. Then again, she did say she was going to use my mother’s murder to achieve that freedom.

  A shattering sound booms through the house. I quickly stuff the journal into my pants waist, shut Felicia’s drawer, and hurry out of the room. When I get downstairs, the sound of something else shattering makes me think twice before I walk into the living room.

  “What do you mean I’m too old for you! I’m not anywhere near forty!” Rochelle shrieks.

  “It’s hard to believe with those bags under your eyes.”

  “I’m exhausted!” she snaps. “How would you look if your daughter died?”

  “I’m too young to have a daughter.” I can hear the amusement in his voice.

  “Stepdaughter!”

  “That, too.”

  I walk back into the living room and spot Rochelle picking up a vase and chucking it at Ryder’s head. He ducks, and it shatters against the wall.

  “What’s going on here?” I shout in mock shock.

  She scrunches up her face, making her look older than she actually is. “Get out. Both of you.”

  “I’m so sorry, Rochelle.” I try to be convincing, but I can’t keep a straight face. Maybe that’s why I received a C- in drama freshman year.

  She laughs. “I’m sure you are! You just came here to humiliate me. Get out! Get out of my house!”

  “Don’t have to tell me twice.” Ryder’s flat-out laughing by this point. He grabs my arm and pulls me out of the house. We’re still laughing as we drive down the street.

  “What did you say to her?” I say, trying to concentrate on the road.

  “What I said isn’t important. It’s what Rochelle said that is.” He’s out of breath from all the laughter.

  “You insulted her.” I shake my head, but I can’t help but chuckle.

  “She was coming on to me … too strong, might I add. I’m not into desperate. She’s a whack job.”

  “You had one job! All you had to do was flirt a little.” Though I want to be mad at him, I’m not.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t whore myself out for you.” I glance over to catch him rolling his eyes.

  As I speed down the residential district, curiosity gets the best of me and I ask, “So, what happened?”

  “When you left, she wormed her way next to me. No, not next to me. She was practically on top of me. Then, she started stroking my arm. Next thing I knew, she had me pinned to the couch and I was struggling to break free. She thought it was some sort of role-play, and that struck an idea. I said, ‘Okay, I’ll be Hansel, and you can be the fugly old witch who tries to eat me.’ To say she was offended is an understatement.”

  I can’t contain myself. “That is awesome.”

  “She nearly killed me with that vase. I don’t get why she thought I’d want her. As I said, she’s not really my type.”

  “And what is your type?”

  He bites his bottom lip and smiles. “Well, there is this one snarky know-it-all girl I’ve had my eye on.”

  I sigh and then look back at the road. “Shut up.”

  “Though I like her for her smarts and personality, she also has a pretty face and a rockin’ bod she tries to cover up—”

  “Stop it,” I snap as my face grows feverish.

  “One day, Lake, you’ll give in to me.” He sounds so sure of himself.

  “In your dreams, Frost.”

  “One day, I’ll make those dreams a mighty fine reality.”

  I scoff. “Take a hint.”

  “But I won’t force you. I’m not into that.”

  “Well, if you don’t force me, it’s never happening. And don’t force me.”

  “You just have to see past the man-slut you think I am and see the real me. Once you see me for me, you’ll admit to yourself the truth.”

  “And what is that?”

  “That you’ve always loved me.”

  I want to slug him.

  He bites his lip as though trying to hold back laughter before he lets it go and says, “Did you find anything?”

  “You won’t believe it.” I’m still gazing at the road ahead. I can’t believe I was right about the journal.

  I park in front of my house and lean my head back on the headrest. I’m exhausted.

  “What did you get?” Ryder asks.

  “Her journal.”

  “I’m surprised. I didn’t expect Felicia to be articulate enough to keep a journal. Well, where is it? I want to read something.”

  I hesitate. I still don’t know if I can trust Ryder. “Maybe next time,” I say as I undo my seatbelt and open the door. He follows suit.

  I expect him to leave, but instead, he follows me right up to my front door. I turn to him and scowl.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t see your dad’s car. I didn’t think it would be a big deal to come in. We’re partners, right?” he says with a wicked grin.

  “And when my dad comes home? He hates your dad. He’ll probably think you’re after something.” My dad will suspect Ryder’s trying to seduce me, and then beat him with the same bat he planned to defend me with yesterday morning. It’s risky to have Ryder over. Dad could be home any minute, for all I know.

  “Just tell him we’re partners on a school project.” He bites his lip playfully. This probably works for most girls, but I know better than to fall for it.

  I shouldn’t allow him into my house, but he’s helping me, so I feel like I have to let him in. He knows things that can help, and I should take advantage of that.

  “Fine,” I say as I unlock the door and step in, leaving it open for him to follow.

  “Good,” he says. “Let’s get down to business.”

  Chapter 7

  “So …” Ryder plops down on the couch, a little too close to me. My body tenses. Maybe it’s because no one has ever attempted to sit so close to me before. At Felicia’s house, I went along with it for show, but now I’m highly aware that we’re alone.

  I hold the journal in my hand, not sure I want to open it and see exactly what went through Felicia’s head. “This is a fairly new journal. I guess she got a new one every year.”

  “How many entries?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know yet. I just saw that the first one was back in January.”

  “So, open it up and read it.”

  “The first one was just her bitching about how she wanted to be free.”

  “Okay,” he says. “Read the next one.”

  I sigh and open the book.

  “It’s dated January 16,” I say, and then begin to read.

  I stop in my tracks. Felicia. Jaxon’s own girlfriend didn’t want to kiss him. I can’t fathom it. “She’s a crazy bitch.”

  Ryder scoffs and grabs the book from me.

  “She’s just cruel,” I say.

  “Well, as you can see, there is definitely no love lost there. It seems like whatever she had on him was big.”

  I don’t like where this conversation is going, so I grab the book out of his hand and read.

  Ryder lets out a loud, nasty snort.

  “Do you want me to read this or not?” I hiss, though I can’t help my own smile. “Where was I … oh, yes.”

  I don’t know how to take that. First, I kind of pity Jessica. Felicia owned her ass and treated her like crap. It makes me wonder if that could have been me, if I was still Felicia’s friend. Though, from the bottom part of the letter, I can only assume she’s talking about me. But it doesn’t make sense. She sounds almost regretful about it, yet never has she regretted anything, especially alienating me.

  “She was definitely a fucked-up person. I mean, if she still wanted to be friends with you—”

  “Next entry,” I cut him off. I don’t want to go ther
e.

  I should be laughing. That part about Rochelle and the Viagra is fucking funny. But I can’t. Felicia was a prostitute. She was eighteen, had been since September, but how long had this been going on? I don’t know how to feel about that. How to process it.

  “Felicia gave herself to men.” Ryder shakes his head in disgust.

  I look up from the book and into his eyes. “Ryder …”

  “She knew a girl who screwed my dad. It’s why I …” His eyes are downcast, and his hands are balled into fists. He looks plagued with an emotion I never thought I’d see him have.

  “Ryder—”

  “I don’t want you to think I wanted to hurt her because of it. She didn’t have to blackmail me into anything. The second she said it, I wanted him to pay.”

  We’re quiet for a moment before he looks into my eyes and says, “Keep going.”

  If I were a good person, I would try and console him. Part of me wants to, but I can’t do anything but fidget with the book. I look down and say, “The next one is dated February 3.”

  “And I think we’ve finally come across something worth reading,” Ryder says.

  “She’s definitely talking about my dad,” Ryder says.

  I agree and flip to the next page. “It gets better.”

  I look over at Ryder and find him staring at me. “Your dad had evidence.” I breathe.

  “Fuck,” he mutters. “This is …”

  “This is crazy.” I can’t believe it. No, I can. I always knew there was more to my mom’s death. So did Dad, but we were never given reasons. We were never allowed to think anything other than she was selfish and abandoned us. But he had leads. He had information, and he went nowhere with it.

  “Did she write anything else?” Ryder asks.

  I turn the page. “It’s dated a week before she died.” I swallow before I continue.

  I turn to Ryder. “Two cases?”

  He shrugs and looks just as baffled as I feel. “I have no idea.”

  “And she used someone. There’s one more entry. Maybe …”

  Ryder takes the journal from my hands and says, “I’ll finish this up.” He clears his throat but stops before he can say anything. “Fuck.” He looks blankly at the page.

  “What?”

  I grab the book out of his hand and read the entry to myself. My heart stutters as I notice the date. It’s the morning Felicia died.

  This is possibly the last thing she wrote before she died. It’s the last testament of a dead girl. This isn’t something I would have ever expected. Felicia sacrificed herself. She knew she was going to die. Her death was practically suicide.

  Ryder and I sit in silence for a while. I don’t know what to say. What to do.

  “Jessica was possibly the last person Felicia saw.” Ryder’s voice is soft and low.

  I don’t like how tense the mood is. I take in a deep breath and attempt a casual smile. “I guess it’s good that you’re my partner. That way you can get intel from her.”

  “How?” There’s a hint of anxiety in his tone.

  “Using your assets,” I say. I feel hollow. I can’t freak out. I won’t. I have to pretend I’m okay, but even Ryder is pale.

  “Are you dead serious?”

  “As dead as Felicia.” I feel bad saying it, but I suppose it’s what would be expected of me. Jessica is our best bet. She’s interested in Ryder, so I know he’s going to have to sacrifice himself. Ryder is going to have to seduce her, though I doubt that’s going to be very hard. I can’t imagine him thinking it’s sacrificing in the first place.

  “The funeral is tomorrow,” Ryder says. “Mayor Craig has a busy week ahead of himself. He may have loved his daughter, but he didn’t want to wait. Even though the medical examiner’s office was told to rush the autopsy, it couldn’t be done that fast, and the mayor had a tantrum about it. My dad suggested he be sedated when he found out about the mayor’s episode. Let’s just say … it caused quite the scene at the station.”

  “Can you blame him? His daughter is dead. He thinks she killed herself. Jeez. If he finds out she was murdered...”

  “When,” Ryder says.

  “It’s going to be tough for him.” I can only imagine my own father’s feelings if I died. Mayor Craig was just as close to Felicia. “Do you know anything about the autopsy? Why are they doing it if they think she killed herself?”

  “Why are they questioning you, and Rochelle? Why are they questioning Jaxon? Because they know she was murdered. They just won’t tell anyone until they’re sure they can catch the guy.”

  “Well, I guess we’re going to a funeral,” I say.

  Just then, Ryder’s phone rings. It actually rings. Like, a legit old-school kind of ring, and he pulls it out. He looks at the caller ID and grows tense.

  “Ryder, what is it?”

  He jumps up from the couch and grabs his bag. “I have to get home. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  I don’t like that he avoids my question, but I’m not going to bother with that. I’m too concerned with what he just said. “What? Why are we going together?”

  I expect the funeral to be full of our classmates. It’s one thing to go alone, but with Ryder? We’ll definitely become a popular topic of gossip. I can just imagine Jessica’s claims that I’m so desperate Ryder decided to pity on me.

  “Rochelle thinks we’re a couple. We should go together. It’ll be good practice for our date.” He winks at me, the tenseness from before vanishing, and instead a playful smile spreads across his face. His dimples are showing, and once again, I try not to look at the adorableness.

  I don’t know how to handle him in any other way, though, so I just go with it and roll my eyes. “I promised one date. I didn’t promise anything after that.”

  “You think that. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then he walks out without another word. I don’t follow him.

  Chapter 8

  “The funeral was beautiful,” one of Felicia’s distant relatives says through fake fat tears. “She was so young. It’s such a tragedy.”

  I just nod.

  Ryder picked me up early, which I was thankful for because Dad wasn’t up yet. Dad didn’t go to the funeral. He and the mayor used to be best friends, but when Mom died, they stopped talking. Now, Dad only talks about how Mayor Craig is a crooked politician.

  Ryder’s car is pretty luxurious. It’s a sedan with black leather seats with red seams. The navigation is ridiculous. There are so many buttons and apps that I don’t even know how he ends up playing music. The sound system is impressive, too, and makes Portugal. The Man’s “Feel It Still” sound like we’re in the front row at a concert. I wonder how the Sheriff can afford such a nice car for his son. Maybe it has something to do with why he’s called the Shady Sheriff.

  Though the actual burial was only for family, a large reception follows at the Craig house. Right outside the front door hangs a monstrously sized portrait of Felicia’s smiling face. Felicia’s silky pale champagne-colored hair shines in the sunlight as her thick lips pull into a carefree smile. Felicia had one dimple in her cheek that stood out and made her look almost innocent. Her vibrant aquamarine eyes looked so lively and full of amusement. It always made me mad someone so cruel could be so beautiful and happy.

  I try to make myself scarce to avoid attention from my classmates. Hell, I know just being here will draw eyes, and with Ryder by my side, I’m asking for trouble.

  My biggest problem is trying to avoid Ryder. Sure, we’re partners, but for the past eight years, I’ve detested him, and everyone knows. Therefore, it would be weird if we were here together. Yet, he can’t seem to leave me alone.

  As I stand in the doorway, watching people talk and nosh on the large deli platter they laid out for those grieving, Ryder’s arm comes around my shoulder.

  “What are you doing
?” His grip is too strong to shrug off.

  His smug look annoys the crap out of me. “Just consoling my girlfriend.”

  “I think your harem isn’t too pleased.” I point to the group of plastic hyenas standing in a circle gawking at us. Jessica is in the center, and her nasty stare tells me if she could shoot laser beams out of her eyes, I’d be a pile of ashes.

  “Like I care.” He gives my shoulder what I assume is a reassuring squeeze. It’s definitely unnecessary, but I don’t think he cares. “To be honest, I’ve only kissed one of them, and the rest just lied about having a relationship with me to seem cool.”

  “And you’re okay with that? The rumors? The bullshit, according to you?” I say, still not believing him.

  “I feel like it’s better to say nothing. God knows what they’d do if I told them off. Girls can be scary. Honestly, I don’t mind being notorious.”

  “Just because we told Rochelle we were dating doesn’t mean everyone else has to know about it.”

  “Why not? If you want her to believe it, everyone else has to believe it also.” He’s too smug. I doubt he thought twice about the repercussions that will be inflicted on me come Monday. Though, there’s some truth to what he’s saying. If we want to look like a legit couple, we definitely need to sell it. “Anyway, how are you doing?”

  I shrug. “I hate funerals.”

  “I thought you’d like it. After all, everyone is wearing your favorite color.”

  “Black isn’t really a color, and it’s not my favorite.”

  “No … that would be purple.” He gives me a shit-eating grin, exposing the adorable dimples in his cheeks.

  I blink at him. “How did you know that?”

  “I’m your boyfriend. I’m supposed to know everything about you.”