The Bakersville Dozen

by Kristina McBride

“Exactly. So we need to look back to December. What was going on with each of the suspects during Winter Break? There has to be some kind of emotional turmoil—a failure or loss or rejection—that set events in motion.”

  I stopped suddenly, my feet planted on the trail in a cloud of dust. I’d escaped down this very trail in the dead of winter, powdery white snow kicking up with each of my rushed footsteps, a heavy sense of guilt weighing me down. It had been just a few days after the Christmas party, a few days after my final moments with Wes. He’d essentially hidden from me the rest of his time home, leaving for school without so much as a goodbye. That week had been tumultuous for both of us. There was a definite sense of failure and loss. I wondered if Wes had felt rejected.

  “B? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “I’ll think, okay? About Winter Break. About stuff that might have triggered the kidnapping. But I’m at the pond now. Call you later.”

  I shoved my phone into the back pocket of my shorts. Then I bent over, propping my hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath and push away the memories.

  Memories of my black wedge heels sinking into plush carpet as I climbed the Greens’ back staircase; the pine-scented garland wrapped around the banister, lit by a string of white twinkle lights; the sound of chatter below, mingling with the clinking of silver on china; the wobble of my body as I hit the top step and turned right, following behind an unsteady Wes as he navigated the dark hallway; the soft giggle that I couldn’t quite hold back as we stepped into his bedroom and he closed the door behind us, one finger pressed to his lips.

  “I missed you,” he’d said, his apple-cinnamon words coating my entire body.

  “I didn’t miss you,” I replied, the smirk on my lips feeling numb after three glasses of spiked apple cider.

  “Liar.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  I tipped my head to the side, ignoring the wild beat of my heart. “I have a boyfriend now.”

  “Jude?”

  I nodded. “I think I love him.”

  Wes’s eyes had gone dark for a fraction of a second. But then he’d smiled. “You up for one more night?”

  “Our secret?” I’d whispered, enjoying the comfort of old patterns.

  “Always.” He’d leaned in, waiting for me to meet him halfway.

  I did.

  With Wes, I always did.

  Even when I knew it would hurt in the end.

  Because, with Wes, the pain was worth it.

  The thing was, I had no idea that night would hurt anyone besides me.

  CHAPTER 22

  10:43 AM

  As I rounded the final bend, I saw him, my eyes locking on his profile. It was like my body had some kind of super-powered Wes radar. From his spot in the crowd, he glanced at me before I could look away, tilting his chin up in a quick hello. I ignored him, avoiding his eyes specifically, because that type of contact would cloud my thinking. If he was somehow involved in this mess, I must have played a part in sending him over the edge. But that was ridiculous. Wes had never cared that much about anything.

  A throng of cheerleaders—freshman through varsity—stood near the edge of the pond where the yellow POLICE LINE—DO NOT CROSS tape began. The cordon line snaked through the grasses, offering a wide perimeter around the spot where Leena’s body had been, and wound its way to the opposite side of the jumping tree, stopping there where the water began. The rope hanging from the tree swayed slightly in the breeze, and I wondered if a ghostly version of Leena was hanging on, watching over all of us.

  All of Leena’s cheer sisters looked uncharacteristically swollen and soggy, leaning against at least a dozen of the varsity footballers. Behind them stood social mid-listers, people Leena had probably never spoken to in her life, but who felt as if they actually had known her. Behind them were the gawkers, standing on tippy-toe, trying to get glimpse of the final resting spot of the most popular girl in school. Almost everyone was holding some sort of offering—flowers, notes, pictures—waiting to add their gift to the pile forming near the base of a tree.

  From my position near the trailhead, off to the side of the group, I had the perfect view. Most faces were angled toward me, so I could at least get a profile shot of the crowd. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I held it low so it wasn’t completely obvious, and pressed the camera app. I was about to select VIDEO when I heard movement close by.

  “Hey,” came a voice from behind me, so soft I almost didn’t recognize the sound.

  I turned, feeling at ease for the first time all day.

  “Jude,” I said. “I tried to call you but—”

  “I’m sorry.” Jude’s hair fell forward, curtaining his face as he looked at the ground. “I couldn’t talk. I’m still—I can’t stop thinking about her. It was just so awful and I’m not sure how to . . .”

  As he trailed off, I was finally able to focus. Jude was a mess, totally out of character, and looked nothing like himself: eyes swollen and red; skin one shade away from I’m-going-to-throw-up; the same clothes from last night, wrinkled and dirty.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, my hand gripping his wrist.

  “I wasn’t sure if I could come today. But then I wandered the woods and kind of ended up here without thinking.” He shrugged, tugging free before reaching up with both hands and scraping his fingers through his hair. “This whole thing is crazy. I can’t get her out of my head, you know? The way she was lying there, so freaking still. It was horrible, but the worst part is how I can’t stop thinking that it could have been you.” Jude paused, his eyes going wide. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. That’s gotta be the worst thing I could have said.”

  “It’s okay. Trust me, it’s not like I haven’t already thought the same thing. My parents did, too. It’s natural, right?” I took a deep breath and let it stream slowly from my lips. Jude needed me, which was going to make it impossible to shoot video of the mourners. I took his hand and led him a little closer to the crowd.

  “The cheerleaders just sang a song,” Jude whispered. “They finished a few minutes before you got here. Something about making this place her home.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. “That’s nice.”

  “It was,” Jude said, his voice shaking. “I just can’t believe she’s gone. I mean, just gone.”

  I leaned my head on his shoulder, hoping it would keep him from noticing me watching the crowd. My eyes were drawn to Wes again. His posture was stiff. He’d crossed his arms over his chest like he was angry. Tripp was standing next to him, head bowed eyes closed. Beside him, I was surprised to find Owen O’Brien. There were other former grads around, too. Most had younger siblings in our graduating class, people who had known Leena growing up together in Bakersville.

  Skipping forward a few rows, I found the girls from The Bakersville Dozen, all seven of them huddled in a circle near the front of the pack. Sylvie had texted earlier about paying our respects as a group—they were starting here at the pond, and heading to Timber Park next. I could practically feel the fear streaming from them. I was pretty sure their thoughts were an exact echo of my own—It could have been me. It could have been me. Holy fucking shit, it could have been me. I felt it then, my responsibility to keep them safe weighing heavier than ever. If I didn’t figure this out, any one of us could be next. I focused on Sylvie, who was standing in the center of the pack, her blonde curls quivering as tears rolled down her cheek.

  She turned, slowly, her eyes roaming the crowd until they locked on the group of former grads. Curiosity overtaking my fear, I wondered if she was staring at Wes. Then I was sure her gaze was fixed on Tripp. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pressing together in a tight line. Without looking away, she leaned in and whispered something to Kelsey “Shaved—’nuff Said” Hathaway, who was standing right next to her, and then inched her way through the crowd. She stopped near Tripp, and whispered something to Owen O’Brien.

  His eyes crinkled, and I wondered if he was confused or angr
y. Sylvie slipped away then, pushing past dorky Kyle Jenkins, to where Hoodie Guy from my pre-calc class stood on the outskirts of the gathering. As Sylvie passed him, he gave her a quick nod before she ducked into the shadows of the trees.

  I tried to remember his name, but it was just out of reach. And then I forgot all about him, because Owen O’Brien was following Sylvie down the trail she’d chosen.

  No one but me seemed to notice. Their attention was drawn to the near-hysterical break-down taking place directly outside the band of yellow tape.

  “She can’t be dead!” a voice shouted. It was Ava Ginger, who, up until February first, had served as co-captain of the varsity squad with Leena. “It’s a lie! Do you hear me? It can’t be real!”

  “I can’t take this,” I whispered, pulling away from Jude. “I gotta get out of here.”

  “I’m not sure I can.” Jude turned, facing me, pain flashing through his eyes. “I need to be here. To be part of this. Will you please stay?”

  I chewed my bottom lip for a moment before looking him in the eye. “I just need a minute.”

  “But you shouldn’t be out there alone,” Jude said.

  “I won’t be long. I promise.” I felt awful leaving him when I knew he needed me most, but I didn’t have a choice. I sighed, taking a few slow backward steps. “I just need a break, okay?”

  “There are pieces of fabric and some pens in a basket up there.” He pointed toward a tree with yellow tape wrapped around its trunk. “We’re supposed to write our names. We can add a note, too. Or song lyrics. The cheerleaders are making a blanket for Leena’s family. I figured you’d want in on it considering how close you guys have become since—”

  “Yeah,” I said, leaning in and giving him a kiss, lingering over the taste of spearmint and tears. “Promise.”

  And then I pushed my way through the crowd, taking one last quick glance at Hoodie Guy, before darting down the trail Sylvie and Owen had taken.

  It was one of the least used trails in these woods, narrow with branches crisscrossing the path. I raced around twists and turns, trying to remember where the trail led, and remembering too late that it simply dead-ended. The trees were thicker, their canopies letting little light through.

  As I stood there, wondering where Sylvie and Owen might have gone, I heard the silver ring of Sylvie’s laughter followed by the sound of a deeper voice.

  Walking slowly, I moved off the trail and between trees, my feet crunching leaves from the previous fall.

  I saw the rock wall first, trees growing sideways from the steep slope. I remembered trying to scale the wall as a child, the taunts of Tripp and Wes calling from overhead as I slid down each time I tried to chase them to the top.

  And then I saw Owen, his back pressed against the barrier, eyes rolling toward the sky, a pair of khaki shorts pooled around his ankles.

  Sylvie was there too, kneeling between his feet, her head ducked down, each and every one of her curls shivering as Owen snaked his fingers through her hair.

  CHAPTER 23

  10:07 PM

  “So, you didn’t see anything suspicious at Timber Park?” I asked, taking a sip of soda.

  Hannah shrugged, folding her paper napkin into a triangle. “There were more people than I expected, mostly sitting on the grass in the audience section, just staring up at the empty stage. I heard a lot about how Becca was heading to Juilliard in the fall, how she dreamed of making her debut on Broadway. But nothing that would add anyone to our suspect list.”

  “What about the cassette tape?” I asked, the chatter of pizza-goers drifting around the filled-to-capacity restaurant. “Did you listen to it yet?”

  “Yeah,” Hannah said. “The recorder is from the Bakersville library, old-school, and the tape has nothing on it but a few minutes of applause, looped over and over again.”

  “Well, that was a bust,” Wes said. “Whoever’s behind all this has been covering his tracks.”

  “What about the pictures of Becca,” Hannah asked. “You look at them yet, Tripp?”

  He groaned. “Yeah. Other than the swelling, there was nothing much to see besides the thick band of bruises around her ankles.”

  “Just like Leena,” I said.

  The pizza arrived then. Kyle Jenkins slid the silver pan onto the stand on the middle of the table. The pizza steamed, piping the scent of pepperoni, onions, and green pepper into the air.

  “You guys talking about the missing girls?” Kyle asked, swiping his hands down the front of the sauce-stained apron tied around his waist. No one replied, but that had never stopped Kyle. He was one of those brilliant types who was completely socially awkward. “The police are bombing this entire case. Figuring out who made the video should’ve been a piece of cake. They’ve had five months to find these girls, and they’ve come up with nothing.”

  Hannah looked up at him. “They only had five months if the girls were kept alive the entire time. The clock stopped ticking as soon as they were killed. And nobody knows when that may have been.”

  “Leena hadn’t been dead for long,” Kyle said. “She only showed the initial stages of decomposition. And Becca, she was still warm when they found her. The responding officers thought she was alive at first.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked, alarm bells going off as I added Kyle to the ever-growing suspect list.

  Kyle shrugged. “It’s not so hard to find the police radio transmissions frequency.”

  “Is that what you do in your spare time?” Hannah asked.

  Kyle shrugged. “When I’m bored.”

  “What else did you hear?” Hannah asked.

  “They’re doing an autopsy on both girls, obviously. They’re not sure how Leena was killed”—Kyle glanced toward the kitchen, then back toward us—“but they think Becca died of anaphylactic shock. Some kind of allergic reaction.”

  “Oh my God, yes,” I said. “She had one of those needles. We were in the same class in fifth grade, and I remember Mrs. Waggoner making her take it to the office to store in the clinic.”

  “An EpiPen?” Hannah asked. “How in the hell do you remember that?”

  “The thing was huge.” I shrugged. “It completely freaked me out.”

  “Do you remember what was she allergic to?” Tripp asked.

  “Peanuts,” I said, picturing her face, swollen beyond recognition, wondering if her last minutes struggling for air had felt like drowning. “She even had to sit at the nut-free table for lunch.”

  Wes slid the spatula under a slice of pizza and transferred it to my plate. “Busy night tonight,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Kyle agreed. “We’re on summer hours now, eleven to eleven every day of the week.”

  “You notice anything suspicious?” Tripp asked, tugging a piece of pizza from the tray as Wes served Hannah, and then himself. “Anyone acting strange?”

  Kyle laughed. “Yeah, try everyone. This whole town is buzzing since Leena and Becca were found. Reporters have been flocking in all day. And then there are the weird out-of-towners who’re delusional enough to feel like they’re part of the girls’ families because they’ve been obsessing over all the media reports for the last five months. Only show they’ve had so far was earlier. A guy walked in and tried to get a table, but he was so wasted, he could hardly keep himself upright.”

  “You’re kidding.” Wes gave a little snort.

  “My boss kicked him out before he could vomit all over the floor,” Kyle said. “Bonus for me, because I’da been the one cleaning it up. Aside from that, nothing unusual other than Tiny Simmons out in the parking lot earlier, taking down license plate numbers from out-of-state cars. Total waste of time, if you ask me.”

  “Tiny Simmons?” I asked, my heart rate speeding up.

  “Yeah. As if someone as green as him is going to come up with the one piece of evidence that’s going to blow this case wide open and make his entire career.”

  “You never know. He just might be the hero.” Hannah kicked me under
the table. In one sentence, Kyle Jenkins had wrapped Tiny’s possible motive up in a neat little package.

  “Not likely,” Kyle said.

  “Then what’s your theory?” Hannah asked, taking a bite and wiping her mouth with her triangle-shaped napkin. “If you think the cops are wasting time with out-of-towners, who do you think is really behind all of this?”

  I looked down at the slice cooling on my plate, but couldn’t bring myself to eat.

  “My theory is simple,” Kyle said. “The person behind this is holding a grudge against each of the missing girls. Whoever this is wants revenge. It’s not some pedophile who watched the video a thousand times sitting in front of his computer in dirty underwear, then decided to rent a room in Bakersville so he could pick the girls off one by one.”

  “Agreed,” Hannah said with a nod. “That theory doesn’t make any sense.”

  “As for who it might be, take your pick. There are tons of assholes in this town. Trust me, I know. And they don’t exactly need a logical reason for their behavior.”

  “Kyle!” a man with a round belly and thick brown hair called from behind the counter. “Pie for table twelve is up. Move it, already.”

  Kyle looked directly at me before he backed away. “You wanna stay safe, Bailey, try to think of someone who has a grudge against you. And when you come up with that person, keep your distance.”

  From his seat beside me, I felt Wes stiffen. Was he holding a grudge because of the way we had ended things at Christmastime? Or maybe because I was dating Jude? Across from us, Tripp and Hannah didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension. They were staring at something just behind me, eyes narrowed.

  I turned, wanting to see what had caught their attention, and my eyes locked on a red envelope with BAILEY HOLZMAN scrawled across the front.

  “Bailey, right?” The voice was deep. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the envelope. All I knew about the guy in front of me was that he had a habit of chewing his nails.

  “Yes,” Hannah said. “That’s Bailey.”

  I looked up then, finding a face framed by the soft fabric of a dark gray hoodie.