The Foxglove Killings

by Tara Kelly

  Alex was sitting on top of a table, facing the creek. The hood of his black pullover concealed his eyes, but I knew he was watching for frogs, a habit that never really went away. He used to give people tadpoles as gifts, thinking they’d enjoy raising them as much as he did.

  I was wrong about people being here. It was completely dead. Eerie quiet, actually.

  I slid in next to him, resting my feet on the mossy bench, but not as close as I usually would. There was this invisible line between us now. It didn’t feel right to cross it.

  “Hey,” he said, keeping his focus on the creek.

  I did the same. It was better that way. “The cops asked me what we did Saturday night. If we dropped by the party.”

  “What’d you tell them?” If he was nervous, his voice didn’t show it.

  “That we drove around. You dropped me off around eleven…”

  He stayed quiet for a few moments. Long enough to make me uncomfortable. To wish I could be inside his head.

  “I’m sorry I put you in this situation,” he said.

  “And I’m sorry I went. But it’s kind of late now.” My fingers gripped the edge of the table. “They had to have seen Christian’s face. Asked him what happened.”

  “Obviously he lied.”

  “Or they’re seeing if we lie.”

  He turned my way, finally making eye contact. “Why would they waste time playing games like that?”

  “To give them reason to hold us? All they need is Jenika’s recording to prove we were there.”

  “We weren’t even on that.”

  “Your voice was. You told Matt to turn it off, remember?” Goose bumps erupted across my skin. I ran my hands up and down my forearms. “Think about it. They’re looking for people with motive. We’ve got plenty of that, especially if Zach told them…what they did to you.”

  “You think he’d rat out Christian?”

  “I don’t know…” Normally I’d say not in a million years.

  “You’re overthinking this. Even if Zach tells them about that—why would I kill her and just beat Christian up?” He rubbed his palms against his shredded jeans. “She was killed a few hours before her body was found, right?”

  I nodded, her blank stare flashing in my mind again.

  “Where did I keep her all this time—my closet?” he asked.

  Lying made me paranoid. Maybe I wasn’t thinking rationally. But Emerald Cove was a desperate town—nearly all of us depended on tourists to keep roofs over our heads. The cakes were probably going stir-crazy locked away in their “Secured by ADT” fortresses. Everyone wanted someone to blame yesterday. And the low-hanging fruit would do just fine.

  Alex, Jenika, Matt, and me—they didn’t even have to reach for us.

  I closed my eyes, taking in the hum of the creek. It seemed to reverberate around us, getting louder and softer again. I wanted to ask him if he was as scared as I was. But I doubted he’d tell me the truth.

  Two ducks squawked and batted each other with their wings. Alex grabbed a Ziploc filled with bread crumbs out of his pocket and tossed a couple at them. There was a time he never left the house without bread crumbs. But that was years ago…

  “You think Zach could’ve done it?” he asked.

  “No,” I said quietly.

  “You sound sure.”

  “I saw his face when he got that picture. I’ve never seen anyone so scared.” I couldn’t imagine anyone I knew doing this, not even Jenika. I was pretty sure I’d be first on her list.

  “I can’t make sense out of that threat he got,” I continued. “Why warn him ahead of time? Why send something the cops can easily trace back? Even if you use a public computer—there are cameras. Witnesses.”

  “You’re assuming they have half a brain.”

  “Well, they kidnapped a girl, killed her, and staged her body without getting caught.”

  “Touché.” He tossed a few more crumbs at the ducks. “They could’ve used something like Maze.”

  He’d told me about Maze a few times. It was software that allowed you to be anonymous on the internet by bouncing data from server to server. Supposedly, it was near impossible for even law enforcement to trace you.

  “Or maybe Zach sent it to himself so he could go crying to you about it,” Alex said. “Isn’t that why he came over?”

  I shrugged. It was easier than saying, He wanted to talk about what a psychopath he thinks you are. “He knows dick about computers. The cops would’ve figured that out by now.”

  He stuffed his bag back into his jeans pocket. “He could’ve had someone else do it.”

  “Maybe.” I glanced over at him. “What about Jenika or Matt?”

  “They wouldn’t send an anonymous email. They’d just go after him.”

  My heart beat a little harder; heat rose into my cheeks. “Right. I forgot. You know them so well.”

  “I never said that,” he said.

  “You sure think you know Jenika. But do you? Really? Would you trust her with your back turned?”

  Alex stared at the bread crumb he was rolling between his fingers. “She didn’t kill Amber.”

  “Did I say she did?”

  “I know you’ve thought about it.”

  “Then you know shit.” I pressed my lips together. “Do you guys actually have real conversations or do you just…”

  “I told you—it’s not going to happen again.” He touched my hand that was clutching the table, his thumb brushing across my skin. My fingers went slack, and my jaw quivered.

  “Where’s my coat?” he asked after a minute. Like we were us again. Like everything was fine.

  I ripped my hand away, balling it in my lap. “I’m not saying I think she killed Amber. But what makes you so sure she didn’t? It could be anyone.”

  He peeled off his hoodie and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back. “We live in a cramped-ass trailer park. We’re all up in each other’s business, whether we want to be or not.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  “Then you know Jenika couldn’t have stashed Amber any more than I could.”

  But there were other places. Emerald Cove was at the base of the Coast Range, miles of untouched forest. Miles of places to hide anyone or anything. Still, that involved a lot of hiking in rough terrain. There were several abandoned buildings in town, including the Pacific Sunrise motel, but the homeless had taken those over.

  If I were going to hold someone hostage, I’d want somewhere hard to find with no nearby neighbors or major roads.

  “Why would she go after Amber, anyway?” Alex continued. “It’s Christian…” He trailed off, raking his hand through his hair again.

  “It’s Christian what?”

  “Nothing,” he muttered.

  I remembered the way Jenika looked at Christian that night, like she wanted to set him on fire and watch him burn. And the way she spoke to him, every word clipped and through her teeth. It was as if the rest of us weren’t there.

  Alex tossed his pullover into my lap. I threw it back.

  “Come on,” he said. “I know you’re freezing your ass off.”

  “What did he do to her?”

  Alex flicked his last bread crumb toward the creek, his jaw tense, his eyes focused on some invisible thing in the trees.

  “The same thing he did to you?” I pressed.

  He shook his head, but there was no change in his expression. Nothing that told me I was right. “It’s not my story to tell.”

  Maybe it wasn’t. But I hated that he wouldn’t tell me. “Guess you need a new box of secrets.”

  “Nova…”

  “Save the explanations, okay? I get it.”

  “No, you don’t,” he whispered.

  “You should go,” I said, sliding off the table. “Those cops will probably be at your house soon, if they aren’t there already.”

  He sighed before grabbing his skateboard and jumping to the ground. I thought we’d say our good-byes and that would be i
t, but he reached for me instead.

  “What?” I took a step back.

  He took two steps forward, this weird intensity in his green eyes.

  I took another step away. And then another.

  His lips turned up a little.

  I bumped into the trunk of a Douglas fir. “Thanks for the warning.”

  He closed the distance between us and pressed his hoodie against my chest, his gaze never leaving mine. “I want this one back.”

  “Alex, I—”

  “Just take it, all right?”

  I gave in and slipped it over my head. It smelled like he hadn’t washed it in a while. Soap, rain, and grass mixed together. A little smoky, too. It hurt in the worst possible way.

  He lifted his hand, like he was going to touch me, but then he lowered it again. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Neither of us said another word after that, even when it came time to go our separate ways.

  Friday, July 4

  You’re right about people. Be the person they want you to be and they’ll believe anything you say. It’s a rush having this secret, seeing everything going on and knowing you caused it. It’s a lot like being God.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Fourth of July sneaked up on me this year. Usually there was a buildup, a change in everyone’s mood in the days before. They’d get bolder. Louder. Just like the illegal fireworks our normally quiet neighbors set off every year, waking me up out of a dead sleep for a week straight.

  Sunburned tourists would fill the sidewalks, all in a hurry to get around one another but going nowhere. The air smelled like charred meat and sunblock, making it hotter, more suffocating. And, like magic, the ever-present low clouds gave way to a sky so blue it would make Smurfs jealous.

  This year the Fourth looked like November. Gray skies. Empty streets. Only the air was thick and muggy, clinging to my skin. Forecasters were talking about thunderstorms tonight. A freak thing around here, especially in the summer.

  But what about this summer had been normal?

  The diner had been deserted most of the day, our only customers locals who whispered to each other in quiet voices. Some of them were saying it was probably the “boyfriend” who did it, that they weren’t going after him hard enough because of who his parents were. And others, like me, felt like it was only the beginning of something. This wasn’t just a guy getting pissed at his girlfriend and going way too far.

  Megan came into the diner with Gabi around four, right as my shift was ending. They huddled together in a booth whispering, like they’d been best friends for years.

  “Hey.” I gave Megan a nod, but she avoided eye contact. Guilt swelled inside me. “I’m sorry I haven’t written you back yet—things have been crazy.”

  She shrugged, still looking at her hands. “It’s fine.”

  I wanted to say more, but I could feel the heat of Gabi’s stare. Maybe she was judging me. Maybe she wasn’t. But this wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have in front of her.

  “What can I get you guys?” I finally met Gabi’s gaze.

  “Two chocolate milkshakes,” she said, handing her menu to me.

  “Taking a walk on the wild side?” I asked. She’d yet to order anything with an ounce of sugar in it.

  She shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Any chance we can get these on the house?” Megan asked, finally looking up at me, her eyes hopeful.

  “Uh…” If I said no, she’d be even more pissed at me than she already was. But I didn’t want her to think it was cool to extend those free meals to Gabi.

  “It’s okay,” Gabi said, smiling at Megan. “You know I got you.”

  Megan mumbled a “thank you”, as if she was ashamed, and I felt even worse. “I’ll double the chocolate,” I said, before giving Megan’s shoulder a squeeze and walking away.

  About five minutes later, Christian and a guy with a blond fro I’d seen around but couldn’t name showed up and invited themselves into Gabi and Megan’s booth. Dread welled up inside of me. Christian hadn’t come around here since that night, and I didn’t think he would. No cake had set foot in here in days.

  I wanted to run over there and grab Megan, get her away from whatever venom would come out of his mouth. Instead he gave her a flirtatious smile and asked her what was up, like she was one of them and this was any other week.

  “Your brother’s not here, is he?” Christian asked, making a show of looking around. “Last time he tried to run me over.”

  “My whole family is crazy,” Megan answered. “I wish I were adopted.”

  They all laughed, and she joined in, not seeming to grasp that they were laughing at her expense.

  I scrubbed hard at invisible dirt on a table two booths away. Sure, Alex was probably shutting her out, too. She had every right to be pissed at him. But he was still her brother. You didn’t sell out family—not without a real good reason.

  “How crazy is crazy?” Christian asked, his voice turning serious.

  I held my breath. The reason for his friendliness toward Megan was painfully clear—he was pumping her for information.

  “Crazy like a bad country song,” Gabi said with this all-knowing tone, like she had a clue. As if, in the very short time they’d been “friends,” she’d earned the right to comment about Megan’s family.

  “My grandma does three things,” Megan said. “Drinks, bakes, and talks to herself.”

  I turned, glaring over my shoulder at her. Her eyes met mine for a quick second before she went on. “My mom’s a junkie. She’s probably dead.” She tried to laugh, but it got stuck in her throat and came out choked.

  Everyone got quiet. Even Christian. His mouth hung half open. Megan had always been a bit clueless socially; it was why she never had many friends. But she never brought up her mom to anyone outside Alex, even to me.

  “Seriously?” the guy with the blond fro asked.

  Megan shrugged and looked down then, as if finally realizing she’d gone way too far.

  “What about your brother?” Christian asked. “Does he talk to himself, too?”

  I straightened then and looked directly at him. He stared right back, his jaw tensed, his knuckles banging against the table.

  I hadn’t slept through the night in days. I was waiting for the cops to come back, accuse me of lying about that night.

  “Maybe we should change the subject,” Gabi said, catching my gaze. I turned my attention to a newly vacated table behind me.

  “What’s his deal with Russian Roulette?” Christian asked, louder than necessary. I could feel his eyes burning a hole into my back. “They a thing now?”

  “What do you mean?” Megan asked.

  “Jenika,” Gabi muttered.

  I picked up a torn sugar wrapper, crushing it in my palm.

  The cakes started calling Jenika “Russian Roulette” last summer. To them, she was just a crazy girl who didn’t fall far from the tree.

  Her mom had a Russian accent. An accent that grew thick when she was drunk, making her hard to understand. Last August, she’d gotten thrown out of the Hemlock Tavern for losing her shit on a couple frat-boy tourists. One of them recorded a video of her on his cell and put it up on YouTube. It was called “Crazy Russian Lady.”

  Zach’s friends played it over and over. They’d laugh, imitating her mom’s big hand gestures and pronunciation of certain words.

  “Didn’t you have a thing for her once?” Gabi asked.

  “Hell no,” Christian said. The defensive edge in his voice was hard to ignore. But Christian and Jenika? No way.

  I could see why he’d go for her. She was cute—as much as it pained me to admit that—and she hated everything he stood for. Apes like Christian got off on that kind of thing.

  But until Alex, Jenika liked her guys tatted up and older. Bonus points for starving musicians or anarchists. If she had hooked up with Christian, it would be a secret she’d want to keep buried.

  Which…explained a lot.

&n
bsp; “Girls in this town come three different ways,” Christian went on. “Beat. Crazy. Or half and half.”

  “Screw you,” Gabi said.

  “Present company excluded,” he added.

  She shook her head, like it was all okay, as long he didn’t mean her.

  I set a stack of dirty plates down with a clank and found myself walking up to their table. I didn’t know what I was going to say. Or do. I just wanted to shut him up.

  “You got something to say?” The words came out through my teeth. “Say it to my face.”

  Christian stared up at me, his face contorted in disgust. The fading bruises on the bridge of his nose and under both eyes made his irises look darker, more menacing. But he didn’t say a word. He didn’t move.

  I turned my attention to Megan. “Can I talk to you?”

  “Now?” Her cheeks were flushed, like my presence embarrassed her.

  “Yeah. Now.”

  She shot Gabi an apologetic look, as if she needed her permission to leave. I almost called her out on it, but I kept my mouth shut. What I needed to say was between Megan and me.

  I led her out the back, where we’d get more privacy. She let the door shut behind us, but she kept one hand on the knob and her gaze averted.

  “You can let go of the door,” I said.

  She folded her arms. “What do you want?” Her tone was icy, like on the phone a few days ago.

  “What the hell was that, Megan?”

  “The truth,” she said softly.

  “No, that’s you selling your family and yourself down the river to entertain a bunch of assholes.”

  “I’m not saying anything they haven’t heard!” Megan threw her hands up, her green eyes blazing. “It’s just a lot less funny when I’m doing the laughing.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know that old metalhead who sits outside the Hemlock and whistles at girls?”

  I nodded. “Joe—something.” My mom said he was once that hot bad boy every girl wanted a piece of.

  “Me and Gabi walked by him the other day. He whistled at me and said”—her nose wrinkled as she lowered her voice to imitate him—“Check out little Mary Pace. All legs, just like her mom. Then he asked me if I party like her, too.”