by Joseph Souza
I sip this disgusting mess of syrup and alcohol, the rim topped with a sea of chipotle rock salt. “I’ve seen the selfie that guy took. He looks to me like he’s so stoned he can’t even stand, never mind light a fire.”
“That idiot screwed himself royally when he snapped that selfie.” She reaches out to hold my hand. “I’m so sorry about your father. How you doing with that?”
“We’d been estranged for some time now, so it’s no big deal.”
“Still, it’s your father. I’d be heartbroken if I lost mine.” She sips her drink. “What will you do now? Go back to New York City?”
“I have no idea.” I laugh at something I just remembered.
“What’s so funny?”
“Dalton has this crazy idea that I’ll stay in town and take over The Galaxy. He thinks that your father will sell it to me on the cheap.”
“He might consider it,” she says. “He really wants The Galaxy to live on.”
“Dalton has no idea what it would take to return that place to its former glory. Probably well into the six figures.”
“I think Dalton has eyes for you, Lucy. Isn’t that disgusting?”
“You really think?”
“Unfortunately, I believe it’s true,” she says, squeezing my hand. “Of course he doesn’t know the real you like I do. He doesn’t know who you were and where you’ve been. Only I’m privy to that information.”
“He might rethink things if he did.”
“Oh, he most definitely would,” she says, laughing. “He’d freak out if he knew you were that beautiful boy he used to pick on.”
“Bully is more like it.”
She shakes her head. “I wish he was the one who moved away instead of you.”
“I can’t even imagine what he would do if he found out the truth about me.”
“No matter what happens, he’ll never love you like I do,” she says, and I can tell she means it. “I know you like no one else, Lucy, and I’m totally comfortable with your past, as well as the beautiful woman you’ve transitioned into.”
“Thanks.”
“We could finally be together again. Like old times, but without the shame or stigma attached to us. Niko and I have been over for a long time now. With your skills as a chef and my connections in town, you could make a real go of returning The Galaxy to its former glory.”
“It’s too much to think about right now, especially so soon after my father’s passing.”
“I understand,” she says. “The Galaxy has been a real drain on my family. I’ve been spending way too many days behind the counter when I should have been out servicing my clientele. Now that they’ve arrested this individual for murder, maybe everyone can breathe a sigh of relief.”
“What about Stefania?”
“What about her?”
“Shouldn’t you be spending more time with her?”
“Stef and I have a wonderful relationship,” she says, regarding me oddly. “In a few years she’ll be off to college. Then I’ll have an empty nest.”
“So Stef’s a good student?”
“Her teachers tell me she’s extremely bright and tests off the chart but that she could put more effort into her work. She studies most nights at a friend’s house. Life is so hectic, the only time I ever see her these days is when we’re working together at the diner.”
“It must have been hard for her, getting up so early and working alongside her grandfather. He’s not exactly the most cheerful guy in the world.”
“My father’s a difficult man to work for, especially if you’re a teenage girl trying to fit in and be popular. And with the deaths of these two kids, it’s been very hard on her. But Stef’s a resilient girl. She’ll bounce back.”
“The paper is calling this suspect a lone wolf.”
“The Afghanis are a wonderful people who work hard and are family oriented. We shouldn’t blame the lot of them for the actions of one religious fanatic.”
I down the remnants of my drink. A hint of phantom pain begins to develop in my lower calves. Despite Nadia’s insistence that we have another, I tell her my sister needs help back at the house, and she buys the excuse. Then we embrace before I head out.
31
AFTER PARKING THE TRUCK, I MAKE MY WAY THROUGH THE WOODS and down to the river’s edge. My wounds have not healed completely and so the going is slow. In my pocket is the stun gun and can of pepper spray that I’d used on those kids, as well as my trusty boning knife. With everything going on in this town, I fear for my safety now more than ever. I’d been buried in those woods and then left to die in that burning diner. The underbelly of this small town has proved too dangerous for me to walk around without protection.
The last time I came to this spot I was with Dalton to look over the crime scene. I remember how he tried to kiss me as I leaned back against that rock, and then how he fled in anger when I rebuffed his advance. I’m hoping this meeting will help me connect the dots to these two cases and establish a clear motive.
I sit atop the boulder and stare down at the spot where the girl was killed. It seems strange that an Afghani refugee would hike all the way down here in order to bury and then stone a girl to death. Why do it here as opposed to all the other places he could have done it? The man I encountered on Blueberry Hill was a hothead with a volatile temper. Someone like that tends to act out of impulse rather than thoughtful deliberation. Burying that girl and then throwing stones at her face was a calculated act that was carried out in methodical fashion. A typical stoning is attended to by the entire community, each offended member ready to inflict their personal dose of punishment with rock in hand.
This river’s edge is now a place of recreational activities and fun. Light-years from when its waters carried the mill’s toxic sludge downstream. Kids have always come here to party—away from adults and responsibility. They come here to forget that they live in this isolated town, which is covered in ice and snow six months out of the year. Then there are the people who come here to fish and swim when the river runs low in the oppressive heat of summer. Death isn’t supposed to happen in a beautiful spot like this. But it did.
The river gurgles and bubbles upward, moving toward the center of town at an impressive clip. It widens as it heads north. The rocks that crop up come summer are now buried beneath the river’s robust currents. Back when I was younger, when this river was polluted, no one dared dip their toe in it for fear it might dissolve. Green foam would form along the banks and cling there for weeks. But in the last few years, as technology has increased and the mill’s production has slowed, this river has been making a comeback.
When I look over I see someone walking through the woods and heading toward me. I presume it’s the girl. She hops easily down the first set of banks and makes her way to me. Her gait is youthful and robust, that of a healthy and vibrant teen. The closer she gets, the more I recognize her from the other night. She’s the girl who was staring desperately at Iggy at the house party, dying to tell him her ugly little secret. She seems surprised to see me. But why? Then I remember why. I’m not Iggy. I’m Lucy Abbott.
“Who are you?”
“I’m a good friend of Iggy’s. He was too scared to show his face around here, so he asked me to come and meet with you.”
“No way.” She turns and starts back.
“I wouldn’t leave if I were you.”
“Well, you’re not me now, are you?” she says as she walks away.
“I have enough evidence to go to the police. If you talk now, you might be able to save yourself.”
She stops and turns to face me. “You don’t have shit, lady. If you did, you would have gone to the police a long time ago.”
“Oh, but I do. And I think you know why I haven’t gone to the police.”
She turns to me. Despite the fear on her face, she’s a lovely looking thing with reddish blond hair that falls lightly over her delicate shoulders. She walks over and stops near the boulder, gazing at me with sc
ared eyes.
“You’re bluffing.”
“I swear to you I’m not.”
“Where’s Iggy? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine, but you’ll need to deal with me from now on. Iggy’s too frightened.”
“I feel sorry for that guy. One of the boys spiked his drink that night.”
I don’t respond, but it confirms my suspicions.
“Like I said, lady, you’d have gone to the police long ago if you’re so damn sure of yourself.”
“We both know why I can’t.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you were at the diner the night it was torched. You’re one of the few people who knows the truth about what really happened.”
“Of course I know what happened. I was the one who went back and saved your loser friend from burning in that diner.”
“You were also the one who sent him that photograph, which tells me you know who took that selfie. It’s the reason I can’t go to the cops.”
“Iggy showed you that photograph?”
“Yes, and only someone who was there would know that Iggy didn’t take it.”
“How do you know Iggy, anyway?”
“That’s not your concern. What you should be concerned about is who took that photo.”
“So you recognized the person?”
“Yes.”
“Which means you can’t go to the police, because you know that my father was the one who took it?”
Her words shock me. “Dalton’s your father?”
“Lucky me, right?”
“I had no idea.” All those photos in Dalton’s apartment suddenly return to me. She was that cute little girl he’d been so proud of. She was that same sullen teen who’d turned on him and refused to return his love. Staring at her, I begin to see the strong resemblance to her father.
“How could you?” she says. “So what other evidence do you have that’s so damning?”
“I was in that cornfield the night you and your friends were ‘grieving’ your dead friend.”
She laughs and crosses her arms.
“What’s so funny?”
“That you thought we were grieving. Maybe I was the only one doing that, but the rest of them weren’t. For them, it was more like a celebration.”
“Celebrating what?” I say, even though I now know what it was.
“What do you think?”
“I made a recording of you and your friends that night. You were all making jokes and laughing at the expense of those two dead kids.”
“I can’t believe you were spying on us.”
“The police will be quite interested when I hand my phone over to them and they see that you’re involved in all this.”
She paces nervously back and forth, unsure of whether to proceed with this discussion. I need her to stay and talk to me. I need her to explain what happened that night and then repeat it to the cops before her father hears about it.
“You have to help get me a deal with the state police. I didn’t want any of this to happen, and I certainly don’t want to go to jail.”
“Then tell me what you know and we’ll go to the police together. I’m sure they’ll go easy on you if you cooperate.”
“You probably think Stef’s the leader of our gang. Well, she’s not.”
“Is it the kid wearing the knit cap?”
“Jamie?” She laughs. “God, no. Jamie’s so lame it’s pathetic.”
“Then who?”
She looks around as if nervous to say the person’s name. “Brynn Petersen.”
“Brynn?” The sound of my niece’s name sends a shock through my system. “Are you sure? She seems so quiet and unassuming.”
“Which is why everyone’s scared shitless of her.”
“So what happened the night the girl was killed?”
“Sulafi was beautiful but naive. Thought she was going to be famous when she grew up, and bragged about it constantly until we were all sick to death of hearing how great she was. Then she started seeing Taylor behind everyone’s backs. Of course Brynn wasn’t happy when she found out. Maybe she liked Taylor herself. Or maybe she felt slighted because Sulafi was an immigrant and dating the boy without telling anyone. Most likely it was because Sulafi was always boasting about herself and looked down on the rest of us, saying how horrible Fawn Grove was compared to her own country. Who was she to put us down when we took her people in and paid for their food and housing? Because of that, Brynn arranged for all of us to come down here one night so we could watch as she taught Sulafi a lesson.”
“A lesson about what?”
“That she was no better than any of us townies.”
“Brynn was planning to kill her?”
“Oh no, I don’t think she ever planned on that. Brynn can be mean when she wants to. She’s one of those emotional bullies with a terrible temper. And nothing frightens her. It’s the only reason I joined that clique, because she threatened to make my life miserable if I didn’t.”
“She made you join?”
“In so many words. I was popular in school, and my father was a cop. Because of that, I suppose I was expected to join.”
“Or else she would have bullied you mercilessly?”
“Exactly. I was more scared of what she might do to my reputation if I turned her down. Brynn was known to spread vicious rumors about you if you pissed her off. She could make your life miserable if she wanted.”
“Brynn Petersen?” I say incredulously. “You’ve seen her do this?”
“Oh yeah, more than once. For whatever reason, her behavior started to get worse in middle school. One girl even tried to kill herself after Brynn spread a nasty rumor that she was sleeping with one of the teachers. They found the girl in her bathtub with her wrists cut.”
“That’s horrible. I’ve never known Brynn to be so cruel.”
“Then you obviously don’t know her that well.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“How do you even know Brynn?”
“She’s my niece.”
The girl laughs. “She’s your niece? God, I’d be scared to sleep in the same house with her.”
“So what happened to Sulafi?”
“We were all drinking and smoking weed and having a good time. Then Brynn started in on her as we all stood around and watched. To be honest, it made me queasy the way she was harassing and insulting her, but what was I to do? She kept at it until Sulafi fell back and hit her head on the boulder. A huge knot grew on her temple, and we all thought she was dead.”
“What happened next?”
“We were scared that Brynn might have killed her—except for Brynn. I remember looking over at her and seeing a big smile on her face. After a few minutes had gone by, Sulafi sat up and started crying. I remember feeling relieved that she was still alive.”
“I’m sure you were.”
“Sulafi starts screaming hysterically at Brynn. She threatened to go back and tell her brother what she did. She claimed that he was crazy and had served in the military back in Afghanistan. She said he’d come storming down to the river and kill us all once she told him what Brynn had done. I was drunk and scared, but I couldn’t leave for fear of pissing Brynn off. Besides, we all knew we’d be in big trouble if word got out that a group of us townie kids beat up an immigrant girl.”
“So then what happened?”
“Brynn flipped a switch, just like that, and lost it. It was insane. Before I knew it, she was banging Sulafi’s head against the rock until the girl passed out.”
“And you think that killed her?”
“I’m not really sure what happened after we left.”
“You all took off running?”
“No. We were wasted and didn’t know what to do. I was scared what Brynn might say or do next. Or that she might turn on me for whatever reason. We didn’t want to just leave the girl there.”
“So you buried her and made it look like she’d been pelted with stones.”
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“Are you crazy? None of us had even heard of stoning before this happened.” She climbs the rock opposite me and sits down cross-legged. “Stef said she would call her mom and that she would know what to do. Supposedly, she worked with the immigrants. At the time, I figured her mom would get the girl some medical help and then convince her not to say anything to anyone. We thought everything would be all right.”
“So Nadia came down?”
“Eventually. We tried to talk Stef out of calling her mom, but she swore to us that her mom was cool and would do anything to protect her—protect us. No way she would turn us in to the cops, Stef claimed.”
“So Nadia came down here with a shovel and helped you bury her?”
“Jesus, lady, let me tell the story, okay?” she says. “Her mother arrives and tells us not to worry, that she’ll take care of everything. She escorts us into the van she used to transport the Afghanis around town. Then she drove us all home. But before dropping us off, she made each of us swear to never tell anyone about what happened down here, or we would all go to prison.”
“Why would Stefania’s mother agree to do this?”
“I don’t know. Stef says her mother feels crazy guilty about the way she raised her. I guess she had a crappy father, too, but she didn’t get into that part of her life. Maybe it was because her mother made her work in that awful diner three days a week. Whatever the reason, Stef said her mom would do virtually anything to protect her, and boy was she ever right.”
“What about Taylor, the boy who had his throat slit?”
“He was heartbroken over Sulafi’s death. It messed him up so bad that we were all worried he might go to the police. He broke down one night when he was drunk and threatened to spill his guts and tell the cops what Brynn had done. You can imagine how Brynn reacted to this.”
“She was obviously not happy?”
“Would you be? She was furious and made Stef call her mother and warn her what Taylor was about to do, and what would happen to all of us if he talked. I woke up the next morning to the news that they’d found him with his throat slit. Not sure who did it, but it scared the heck out of me. That night you saw us in that cornfield, they were celebrating his death.”
