Dead Girls Don't Keep Secrets

by Ames B Winterbourne

  “I didn’t kill her! I paid her off! And I would never kill May. What would I get out of it?”

  “We would never kill Felicia,” Miss Kemper interjects.

  “I don’t know about you, but Mr. Crane has more than just this little affair to cover up,” Ryder says.

  “What?” Miss Kemper and I say in unison.

  “Tell us what you know about May Lewis, or I’ll not only send the video to my dad, but I’ll spread it all over social media. I wonder what everyone would think if it was posted on the school’s Instagram.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mr. Crane’s nose flares.

  “I think you do,” Ryder says.

  “Ryder, what the hell is going on?” I snap.

  “You see …” Ryder doesn’t even glance in my direction, and instead stays focused on Mr. Crane. “When you were in college, you were arrested for stalking.”

  “How do you know that?” Mr. Crane sounds aghast.

  “Ryder, what’s going on?” I ask.

  “My dad’s the sheriff. I know things.” He shrugs like it was nothing. “Anyway, you were stalking Lake’s mom, who took out a restraining order against you, but you disobeyed it and got arrested. For some weird reason, the Lewis family dropped the charges.”

  Mr. Crane glowers at Ryder. “It wasn’t stalking.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ. Peeping in her window, sending threatening letters to her husband. That’s pretty stalkerish to me.”

  “You have it all wrong,” Mr. Crane insists.

  “What does he have wrong?” My voice shakes. I don’t know how Ryder knows about this, or why he didn’t tell me before.

  “May … she was my first.”

  “First what?” The accusatory tone comes from Miss Kemper.

  “My first kiss, first love, first time. Everything. She was my everything,” he says wistfully.

  “No.” The word comes out quieter than I thought it would. That can’t be. If it were true, then I had to be eleven at the time of their affair, and my mother would have died soon after.

  He gives me a sly look. “Oh, yes. It was more than just standard love. She was the air I breathed.”

  “Stop it. I don’t believe you.”

  “You can believe whatever you like, but that doesn’t change what happened.”

  My eyes shoot to Ryder’s. He’s more stunned than I expected for someone who already knew the truth. I turn back to Mr. Crane, hoping that he’s made a mistake. “But my mother and father …”

  “Your mother was no innocent woman, Lake.” Mr. Crane laughs cruelly. “She was a seductress. She seduced me. She was everything to me. She did everything to me.” I want to tear this man to shreds and watch him beg for mercy at my feet, just so I can spit on him. “I thought I had found my true love, and she did love me, but her husband was jealous. He forced her to file a restraining order when I went to her house to see her.”

  “So, you killed my mom … and Felicia ended up finding out the connection, so you killed her, too.” All the blood drains from my face.

  Miss Kemper gasps in horror. I’m betting she didn’t know a damn thing about any of it. But I don’t give two shits about what she does or doesn’t know. Mr. Crane looks like I’ve just struck him.

  “I would never kill either of them. I loved your mother with all my heart. When she died, I was broken. And Felicia? She was the perfect replacement for my May. Even though she had a different kind of fetish, she was perfect for me.” The emotion in his voice sounds real, but I can’t bring myself to believe it. Miss Kemper looks like she’s going to burst.

  “Why’d she drop the restraining order?” Ryder says. I want him to stop. I don’t think I can take it anymore.

  Mr. Crane shrugs. “My father gave her husband loads of money to keep them quiet. They had been struggling for a time.”

  I still at his words. My father wouldn’t take a bribe. It would have been like selling my mother. Mom wouldn’t have allowed that.

  Suddenly, I realize I don’t know the first thing about what my mother would or wouldn’t do, or even my father.

  “My mother would never sleep with a creep like you! She was a good wife. And my father could never be bribed. Money is nothing compared to his love for his family.”

  “Oh, you silly girl.” Mr. Crane’s beady eyes penetrate my body once more, and I lunge at him. Ryder grabs my arms, holding me back.

  “Watch it,” Ryder growls at Mr. Crane as I struggle.

  Mr. Crane gives me a suggestive glance. “Your mother slept with many men. Not just me. Sadly, I never got to see her again after her husband took the money.”

  I see red, and not just because everything in the room is that shade. “That’s absurd. She’d never …. Does Aunt Dorothy even know?”

  “She had no clue until it was too late. Your mom probably got the whole idea from Dorothy in the first place. Like sister, like mother, like daughter.” Mr. Crane mocks as he winks at me.

  Part of me is glad Aunt Dorothy didn’t know, but that only lasts a moment because Ryder lets me go and goes after the bastard. He drops his phone in the process. His fist crashes into the side of Mr. Crane’s face. Miss Kemper shrieks. Ryder stands, breathing heavy. “I said, don’t look at her!”

  Miss Kemper’s eyes focus in on the floor where the phone fell. She goes for it, but I’m quicker. I grab it and focus the still recording camera in on her face. She stands back. Ryder is now using Mr. Crane as a punching bag.

  “Ryder!” I cry out to him. He stops at the sound of my voice. His fist is bloodied, and Mr. Crane groans in pain. I grab Ryder’s hand and observe it, hoping none of the blood is his own. It isn’t, though his knuckles will no doubt be bruised. I let out a breath of relief. “Why did you—”

  “The tool doesn’t know how to listen.” Ryder’s breath is ragged. Mr. Crane grips his nose, which now pours out blood.

  Ryder sneers down at the man. “I could have you arrested for the murder of Felicia Craig and May Lewis. She knew about you and Lake’s mom. Probably threatened to expose your sexual relationship with her unless you told her everything.”

  “I said I didn’t murder either of them. I didn’t even know Felicia knew about May until she confronted me that night. She said she just wanted information, so I gave it to her. I said I’d have to take out a loan or something if it meant she’d truly keep it to herself. Anything to prevent her from telling the administration about us. She said she got what she wanted and my secret was safe with her. I didn’t know if I should believe it or not. I was a wreck, but I didn’t kill her for it. I just got drunk. Very drunk. I called Dorothy and had her send over another girl. I was with the girl until the morning. Her name is Courtney, if you need my alibi. You saw me the next morning. Alcohol doesn’t bode well with me. I was a mess.” Mr. Crane’s voice is nasally as he uses his dress shirt to soak up the blood. He pulls himself slowly to his feet and winces. “I could never murder someone. I’m an academic, not a fighter.”

  “So, you just expect us to believe you didn’t hold a grudge against Felicia?” I say.

  “Why would we? We got sex, and she got good grades and a great college recommendation from us,” Miss Kemper murmurs. I almost forgot she was here.

  “Not that it got her into any good university,” Mr. Crane adds. “And I told her everything.”

  I want to shut them up. I want them to suffer. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, Ryder and I will expose you both for what you are.”

  “Lake, I don’t think we’ve got everything from them. What exactly did Felicia ask you?”

  “She wanted to know who May’s clients were.”

  “Her clients?” I say. “Whoa, first you say my mom was having an affair with you, but now clients?”

  “Your mother was a lady of the night,” Mr. Crane says. “She was paid well
for her services. That’s how we met.”

  “No, you’re wrong,” I snap. “My mom wasn’t a whore. She—”

  “As I said to Felicia,” he interrupts me. “May never revealed other clients to me. Just that they were powerful men.”

  “And my dad knew?”

  “Of course not. He thought my stalking your mother was just a teenage boy with a phase. Not that I allowed him to believe it, but your mother was persuasive.”

  “So, you didn’t know names?”

  “No, which is what I told Felicia. Though, I did say they were powerful men who had frightened May a few times. She was scared. Terrified of some of them and what they’d do if she didn’t obey them.”

  “You’re wrong,” I snarl. “My mother would never do that.”

  “She would, and she did,” he says, all smug even with a bloody broken nose.

  “We were never here,” Ryder says.

  “What? We were never here? Ryder, I’m not done asking—”

  “We’re done,” Ryder says. “We were never here and you never saw us.”

  “Don’t worry.” Miss Kemper’s nostrils flare, and she curls her lip as though gaining some courage. “Who would we tell? Especially now that our relationship is over.”

  “Sweetheart—” Mr. Crane’s voice cracks.

  “You lied to me. I had no idea you were being blackmailed for something so horrible as this. I want no part of it. I’m just an innocent bystander.”

  I snort. “You’re standing there with a thick ruler ready to whip the ass of a teenage girl. So innocent.”

  She doesn’t bother to acknowledge my response. “We are through!” She sounds like an irate child.

  Miss Kemper grits her teeth as Mr. Crane calls to her, “Evelyn, don’t do this.”

  She storms out of the room and toward the front door, where her own trench coat is. She throws it on.

  Mr. Crane doesn’t follow. “I swear I didn’t kill them.”

  “And why should we believe you?” I say.

  “Because when May died, I was in Europe for the summer. And I wasn’t alone when I was drunk. Miss Kemper didn’t know anything, as you can tell, and hadn’t seen Felicia since the day before Felicia died. Afterward, Miss Kemper and I were both at a staff party for the principal’s birthday.”

  I don’t know whether to believe him or not, but if it’s true, he wouldn’t have been able to do it.

  “You know, if you want to know more about Felicia’s death, you might want to have a talk with that boyfriend of hers,” Mr. Crane says with a smug expression on his face. I guess the little “don’t leave me” act is over.

  “Why?”

  “Because he found out about our little affair a few days before she died. Not only that, he found her in the most compromising position with Miss Kemper. To be honest, she always seemed to be having more fun with her.” He looks put out. It makes me cringe with disgust. “Jaxon barely noticed me. He demanded to know if she enjoyed female company rather than male.” I notice Ryder tense up. “She couldn’t talk her way out of it. He didn’t seem too pleased about it.” Mr. Crane seems delighted.

  That little fact adds to my indigestion. I don’t know if there is an antacid strong enough to help me. “Jaxon knew about this?”

  “He seemed inconsolable about it. He even slapped her across the face. If anyone killed Felicia, it might have been him.”

  I can’t believe it. I won’t. “But her death was connected to my mother’s—”

  “Not necessarily,” Ryder says.

  “What?”

  “I guess there is a possibility someone else killed her.”

  “Not Jaxon,” I insist.

  “Are we done here?” Mr. Crane’s voice is all nasally and cracked.

  I don’t say anything. I’m too shocked. Jaxon Smith, the boy I’ve had the biggest crush on, is the Blackmailed Boyfriend after all, and he had the motive to kill.

  “We’ll be leaving now,” Ryder says as he takes my wrist and pulls me toward the doorway. He grabs my trench coat off the floor and we make our way out of the house. He stops on the steps and tells me, “Get your jacket on.”

  I’m still stunned, but I do what he says. Once it’s on, he takes my hand in his and pulls me toward his car. His hand is warm and strong, with callouses I didn’t expect. He has a firm grip, but not one that cuts off circulation. I let him take me to his car, only for him to let go when we get there, leaving me cold.

  “What are we going to do?” I say. “Mr. Crane obviously has a reason to lie.”

  “I don’t know, Lake.”

  “You’re just jealous of Jaxon.”

  “That’s not why,” Ryder says.

  “Oh? How so?”

  “Jaxon has motive. He’s being blackmailed, for what, I don’t know,” he says. “But he slapped Felicia. That’s not a very calm response.”

  “But the lacerations on my mom’s body—”

  “Maybe he’s trying to frame someone, throw them off his scent. I don’t know.”

  “Ryder—”

  “We just … tomorrow the lacrosse team has practice in the morning. I’ll pick you up and take you there. What do you say?”

  “I say you’re crazy.”

  “I say it’s a smart idea to check out what Jaxon knows.”

  I can’t argue there. “Fine, but don’t scare him off and make him think we suspect him or anything. I don’t believe it for a second.”

  “Of course you don’t,” he mutters.

  “I said fine, Ryder. Now get over it.”

  “You get over your little crush. He’ll never like you that way, Lake.”

  “I’m aware,” I snap. “I’m very much aware, Ryder. But that doesn’t mean anything. He’s not a bad guy. He’s a nice guy. He was probably pissed that Felicia betrayed him or whatever.” It would explain his reaction to her death.

  “You believe what you want to believe,” he says. “But tomorrow morning the truth comes out. Whether you like it or not.”

  “Fine!” I snap. “Now take me home.”

  “Gladly.”

  We both get into his car and drive to my house in silence. I don’t know why I’m so angry at Ryder. Maybe it’s because he lied to me about what he knew about Mr. Crane. Maybe it’s because he’s attacking Jaxon for no reason other than the fact that he doesn’t like the guy who treats me nicely. All I know is, when I look over at Ryder, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the wheel with so much pressure it makes a dent in the leather, I can’t help the small voice in the back of my head that says: Maybe he’s right.

  Chapter 12

  The next day, I’m exhausted, but I wake up earlier than I’d like. I see Dad briefly as he grabs a snack.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Dad says with a mouth full of his sugary cereal. “Want some?”

  “No, I’m good. I’ll just have a protein bar.” I’m surprised to see him, since I don’t want him to see Ryder picking me up. I go to the kitchen cabinet and pull out a power bar my dad’s nutritionist—the one he hired for a day—suggested he eat, but has yet to try. I peel back the wrapper and take a bite out of the dark chocolatey peanut butter goodness. It’s not super sweet, but just sweet enough for me and this kind of morning.

  There’s already a pot of coffee ready and waiting for me. Holding the bar in my mouth, I take a travel mug out of the cabinet above the pot and pour myself a cup. I wish we had two travel mugs, but the other one is still in the full dishwasher that’s been waiting to be unloaded. I’m too lazy to open it, since Dad will expect me to put away everything else in there, and I don’t have the time. It’s a dark roast, something Dad loves, but I prefer medium. We’re not a coffee pod kind of family. We prefer the communal coffee pot that doesn’t actually burn the coffee that badly.

  I walk over to the fridge and take out the half
-and-half, then open the bottle and pour half a cup of it into my coffee. Then, I take out a fistful of sugar-free sweetener packets and stir them in.

  “One of those kinds of days?” Dad asks.

  I frown. “What?”

  “You put like a cup of fake sugar into your coffee, Lake. You only do that when you’re

  anxious. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I lie.

  “You got home late last night. Where were you?”

  “I was at the library, studying.”

  “Is that so?” He has that pursed-lip look of disbelief. “I spoke to your aunt yesterday.”

  “Oh?”

  “She said you were dating someone. Someone who just so happens to be the sheriff’s son. How come I didn’t know that?” He gives me an accusatory look that means that I’m busted.

  “I am,” I say.

  “And you were going to tell me, when? You know, I’ve heard about this Ryder. He sounds like a bit of a playboy. And a jerk.”

  “Ryder isn’t a jerk. And he’s a reformed playboy. He’s only interested in me now.”

  He sighs. There are circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, no doubt due to his deadline. “I’m just worried about you. Maybe I can meet the guy. Talk to him man-to-man.”

  “Man-to-man? What is this, the fifties? I can take care of myself, Dad.”

  “I just—you haven’t had a friend since Felicia. I’m just nervous he’s taking advantage of you.”

  Though that’s exactly what I’ve been thinking from the start, I don’t say it. “He’s not. He’s a good guy.” A honk sounds from outside. “And that’s him.”

  “This early in the morning?” He frowns.

  “We’re going for a run in the park. I’ll be back later today.”

  “Hmm, and he just honks and you go?”

  “Yep,” I say. “He has no idea you know about him, otherwise he’d come in. He wants to meet you,” I lie again. I hope I’m convincing, but Dad doesn’t look like he believes me in the slightest.

  “Lake, just be careful,” he says.

  “I am.”

  “I mean, you’re using protection and stuff? I’ve heard a thing or two about his reputation.”