by Laura Wolfe
“Maybe we can use Travis’s landline now,” Jenna said.
“What about that woman we saw?” I asked with a shaky voice. “She might live there, too. We don’t want her asking questions.”
“Oh no!” Charlotte’s mouth fell open as she peered out the screen door. “What if she comes looking for him?”
My feet inched toward the puddle of blood. “Maybe we should hide his body. Move it down to the cellar or something?”
Kaitlyn shook her head. “Won’t that make us look even more guilty?”
Jenna paced across the room. “Yeah. If our story is self-defense or an accident, we shouldn’t hide him. It makes it look like we’re covering something up.” She inhaled and rolled her shoulders back. “Let’s wait a minute and take a breath. We need to regroup. I’m completely overwhelmed right now.” She motioned toward Travis. “At least the threat is gone for now.”
Kaitlyn edged toward the doorway to the living room. “I’ll get another quilt.”
I gave her a nod. “Jenna’s right. The immediate threat is gone. Let’s think things through. Then we can make a plan to get out of here.” My eyes found Kaitlyn. “We need to stick together.”
Kaitlyn crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked at her feet.
“I agree,” Charlotte said. She turned toward the stairs, and Kaitlyn followed behind her.
The walls of the small kitchen were closing in on me. My stomach turned every time I accidentally glanced toward the dead man. The image of Sam’s lifeless body was etched in my mind. Now the feel of the trigger against my finger lingered, too. I wondered if I’d ever forget it. The air filled my throat like quicksand—an early indicator of a panic attack. “I’m going to sit by the lake for a couple of minutes,” I said to Jenna. “I need some air.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“Of course not,” I said, although I craved a moment alone. I wanted to cry and breathe and focus on nothing but the sound of the water.
Relief loosened Jenna’s features and I was glad I hadn’t turned her away. She hobbled out the door next to me. We walked across the porch and on to a narrow dirt trail leading toward the lake below. The warm breeze against my cheeks felt refreshing, vital to my very survival. It had been difficult to breathe inside the dank cabin. I rubbed my fingers against my shirt as I followed the path, trying to erase the memory of the metal gun against my skin, of the sudden recoil against my torso when the shot rang out. Something in my brain wouldn’t let me think about anything beyond that jerk of the gun. I witnessed the same phenomenon in my clients all the time. The mental blockage was a primal survival mechanism after experiencing trauma.
Leaves ruffled overhead, tinged with yellow and orange. The lapping waves lured me closer to the lake. I gripped my hand around a sapling to keep myself from sliding down the steep incline. I turned back toward Jenna. “Sit down here. It’s steep. You can slide on your butt.”
Jenna slid down after me. We trod through the sand and sat on the log near the water. Tears slid down my face, and I didn’t make any effort to wipe them away. Now that I had a minute of quiet to reflect, the devastating truth hurtled into me like a rock flung from a slingshot. Sam—one of my best friends—was dead. I’d just shot a man. Now he was dead, too. It felt like the earth was falling away beneath me. I wanted to go home. I needed to hug Andrew and the kids, but they were unreachable.
I forced my heels into the rocky sand. The rippling waves sparkled under the sun. A group of seagulls flew near the surface and landed with a series of gentle splashes. The beautiful scenery didn’t make sense. I wondered how something so dreadful could have happened here, how such a peaceful setting could be home to a loathsome person like Travis.
Jenna’s sturdy arm looped around my body and pulled me into a hug. The tears flowed again. I looked up, finding that she was crying too.
“I’m sorry if I was the one who bumped your hand.”
My shoulders caved. “I know.”
“Poor Sam,” she said. “How are we going to tell Thomas? Or her sweet kids?”
“I don’t know.” I blinked back the hot tears forming behind my eyes as I recalled the photo Sam had showed us the other night of Leo and Brett hiking up the mountain trail with their dad. She’d shown it to us right after “braggy time.” Sam had always come up with funny phrases, ones that no one else used. Had that happened only two nights ago? It felt like two decades had passed.
Jenna picked up a stone and threw it into the water. “Remember the time Sam stole the neighbor’s cat?”
I laughed through my watery eyes. “Yeah. We thought she adopted it from the Humane Society until we saw the ‘Lost Cat’ sign hanging on the tree out front.”
“Didn’t she name it Mr. Bojangles?”
“Yes. She did.” I closed my eyes at the memory, savoring it.
“Remember how she wanted to start a cat rental business after she found out he belonged to someone else?”
“Yeah. She probably would have been successful at it, too.”
Nestled shoulder to shoulder, we told stories about Sam and laughed through our tears. Finally, Jenna turned to me with solemn eyes.
“We need to get Kaitlyn on the same page. We didn’t have a choice with that asshole. Travis’s death was no one’s fault but his.”
I pushed my toe toward the water. “I think she’ll come around.”
“Hey guys. Let’s talk up here. We need to keep moving.”
We turned to find Charlotte standing at the top of the hill. Kaitlyn hovered behind her.
“Coming,” Jenna said, raising her arm.
I supported Jenna’s weight as we climbed the steep trail back to the porch. We found our seats. Sam’s empty chair tore a hole through me, and I looked away.
Kaitlyn rubbed her forehead and sighed. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ll agree with your story. It was self-defense. We were worried about our lives like you said.” Her voice was flat, as if she was repeating words Charlotte had told her to say.
“It’s important that we stick together,” I said as my shoulders loosened.
Jenna nodded. “Good. Thanks. I know it seems hopeless right now, but we’re going to make it through this.”
“We should hike over to the camp now,” I said. “We’ve already lost some daylight.”
The others nodded, and I was thankful no one was suggesting breaking into Travis’s house. We couldn’t risk his girlfriend questioning us or finding his body.
Kaitlyn pushed a few foil-wrapped bars across the table. “Everyone grab a water bottle and a power bar. We need energy.”
I had lost my appetite hours ago, but I took one anyway. Jenna swiped a bar, along with the bottle of ibuprofen. She popped another pill. We sat quietly for a minute.
“Let’s go,” I said, causing the others to push back their chairs.
As I stood, I gazed across the lake toward the abandoned beach. I told myself to focus on nothing but getting to the camp and making the phone call. But the more I struggled to ignore the images of Sam’s body wrapped in a quilt in the back of Charlotte’s minivan, or the bloody man slumped against the wall in the kitchen, the more the morbid visions wormed their way into my mind.
Chapter Sixteen
No one spoke for the first five minutes of the hike. The rubber soles of our shoes hit the earth, one after another. Air heaved in and out of my lungs in labored breaths. Camp Eventide loomed somewhere beyond the wall of trees and the winding paths. The landline phone I thought I’d glimpsed sitting on the desk inside the camp’s office was our best chance to contact the outside world, our best chance to escape. If there was a phone there, the odds of someone having disconnected the line were probably at least fifty percent. According to the article Kaitlyn had read, Camp Eventide had shut down two or three months ago. Still, it was worth trying.
My stomach capsized as we approached the spot where we’d discovered Sam’s body just a couple of hours before. Kaitlyn whimpered.
�
�It’s okay,” Jenna said. “Keep your eyes up and walk.”
I followed her instructions, knowing she was correct. We had to compartmentalize our emotions if we wanted to make it to safety. I didn’t allow myself to stare at the matted leaves or the puddle of vomit under the tree as we passed. My feet moved ahead on autopilot, one in front of the other. I kept my eyes on the trail. We had to get out of here.
Charlotte and I scurried ahead, walking side by side. When we were out of earshot of the others, I leaned toward her and whispered. “What did you say to Kaitlyn back there? She was quick to change her story.”
Charlotte glanced at me but kept walking. “I reminded her of something she’s always told us: sometimes it’s better to be kind than to be right. Then, I reminded her of the car accident.” Charlotte’s eyes locked with mine. “I said we’d stolen enough from Jenna already. We didn’t need to take her law degree too. Or her freedom, for that matter. After that, Kaitlyn stopped arguing.”
I swallowed, tasting metal on my tongue. I wasn’t the only one carrying the weight of that long-ago night on my shoulders.
“Who took my last Diet Coke?” I asked, peering into the barren fridge. It was late January of our junior year, and I was standing in the white kitchen of the house on 14th Street. Only a bottle of ketchup and a half-sandwich wrapped in foil languished on the frosty glass shelf. I didn’t know who the sandwich belonged to, but it had been in the same spot for over a week.
Charlotte and Kaitlyn bantered behind me, joking about how they’d joined some other students in wrapping a blue-and-gold-striped scarf around the statue of Father Marquette as they walked home from their classes.
I turned toward them. “You realize he’s made of stone, right?”
Kaitlyn gave me a playful nudge. “Oh, c’mon, Megan. Why are you so grumpy?”
“Someone drank my last Diet Coke. On top of that, we don’t have any food in this house. Like, literally, nothing. We need to go to the store.”
“She’s right. I think we’ve put it off as long as possible.” Charlotte nodded toward the stove. “I’ve been wanting to make my homemade spaghetti sauce.”
Sam hurried down the stairs carrying a stack of books. She flopped them on the counter and sighed. “What’s up?”
“We’re going to the grocery store. I can drive us,” I said.
Kaitlyn and I were the only two people in the house with cars. Leaving campus to go to a “real” grocery store was always considered a big outing. I tossed the forgotten sandwich in the garbage and closed the refrigerator door.
Kaitlyn pulled out a chair from the kitchen table, tossing her flowing locks behind her shoulder. “Jenna probably took your Diet Coke. You two are the only ones who drink it.”
Sam made a face. “You shouldn’t drink that stuff. It’s all chemicals.”
“No. It’s good for you,” I said, defending my favorite drink. “It doesn’t have any calories. I can’t believe Jenna took the last one.”
“What did I do?” Jenna’s voice bellowed from the living room. She stepped into the doorway, wearing athletic pants and a Marquette T-shirt, the same type worn by all the university’s athletes. Tendrils of her dirty-blonde hair fell around her face, matted down with dried sweat. She’d already completed her nightly workout. Even though the soccer season had ended in November, she continued her exercise and practice sessions throughout the year.
Pete stepped behind her and offered a wave and a half-smile. “Hi ladies.” He wore the same school-issued blue-and-gold athletic clothes as Jenna.
“Hey Pete.” I raised my hand in a wave and refocused on Jenna. “My last can of Diet Coke mysteriously disappeared.”
Jenna made a guilty face and shrugged. “Sorry. I needed my caffeine fix.”
I forced a smile, secretly aggravated by her action. I’d been craving the cold bubbly liquid and the jolt of caffeine that came with it. I couldn’t go a day without drinking it. The lack of caffeine was making me antsy. I pulled my car keys from the counter and jingled them in the air. “We’re heading to the grocery store. We have no food. Come with us so we can stock up.”
“Can’t. I’m hanging with Pete tonight.” Jenna gave her boyfriend a loving punch in his solid arm.
Pete grinned at us. “Order carry-out. That’s what my roommates and I do when we run out of food.”
“We’ve already done that three nights in a row,” Sam said. “I need some fruit. Or anything that’s not dripping in grease.”
Charlotte opened a barren cupboard and frowned. “We don’t even have any ramen.”
“Can’t you guys just pick up a few things for me?” Jenna asked, eyes pleading. “I’ll pay you back.”
I shook my head. “We shopped for you last time. Remember how long it took to figure out the receipt?”
“And you got mad at me for buying the wrong cereal,” Kaitlyn said, frowning. “You can choose your own food tonight.”
Jenna placed her hands on her hips and pinched her lips. She couldn’t deny the issues she’d caused after our last shopping expedition when we returned with a few items she hadn’t wanted.
“Come on, Jenna,” Charlotte said. “Just ride along with us. Bring Pete, too.”
Jenna shifted her feet and glanced toward Charlotte. “You wish.”
We chuckled at Jenna’s jab, but Charlotte only rolled her eyes. She’d learned to take our harassment in stride, maybe because she knew she deserved it.
Pete checked his watch, eyes darting away from us. “Nah. It’s too cold out for me.”
Through the window, the lights from the building next door illuminated falling snow.
Pete shoved his hands in his pockets. “You guys go to the store. Jenna, we’ll hang out tomorrow night.”
Jenna nodded, but her eyes pulled down. “Okay. I’ll call you later.”
Pete squeezed her around the waist and kissed her on the head. He zipped up his coat as he headed toward the front door.
I stepped next to Jenna and nudged her with my elbow. “Sorry if I ruined your plans, but we kind of need food.”
“It’s fine.” Jenna grabbed her shoes. “Let’s go.”
We pulled on gloves and heavy coats as we exited through the door, shopping lists in hand. The frigid January air shocked my skin as we filed out of the warm kitchen, through the snow, and onto the driveway. My well-worn Honda Accord sat a few feet away, covered in a blanket of snow. The car had been a hand-me-down from my parents but was nothing short of luxury for a college student. Aside from gas and insurance, it was free, and that was good enough for me.
“I’ll buy the veggies, and you buy the pasta and bread,” Kaitlyn said to Charlotte as they negotiated splitting the ingredients for the spaghetti recipe.
“Jenna can sit in front because she doesn’t want to go to the store.” Kaitlyn pulled open the back door and slid into the middle seat.
“I don’t think any of us want to go,” I said, hiding the aggravation in my voice. It wasn’t like anyone enjoyed grocery shopping. Jenna couldn’t skip out every time. She acted so childishly sometimes, always so extreme in her emotions. She’d been a child actor before soccer had taken over her life and had never lost her flair for drama.
“I’ll take what I can get.” Jenna found her spot in the passenger seat.
I brushed the fresh layer of snow from my windshield and worked my way around the car.
My friends shivered as I started the ignition. I turned the heat on full blast, but my efforts to warm the interior failed. Freezing air blasted through the vents. Steam floated from my mouth as I backed out of the driveway.
Charlotte wiggled, struggling to adjust her seat belt.
I turned toward my passengers. “I guess it’s a good thing Pete didn’t come with us. We don’t have enough seats.”
Kaitlyn reached forward and touched Jenna’s shoulder. “He seems like such a perfect guy, Jenna.”
“He is. Don’t tell him I said this, but…” Jenna paused, a dreamy smile spreading acros
s her face, “I think he’s the one.”
I giggled, thankful for the sudden mood change. “Ooh! Jenna’s in love,” I said as I stopped at a frosty stop sign. In the back seat, Charlotte, Kaitlyn, and Sam joined in with my playful chiding. There was no denying Jenna and Pete made a handsome couple.
“Imagine how good your kids will be at soccer,” Sam said. “You’ll have your own junior Olympic team.”
My fingers fumbled with the temperature knob on the dashboard, turning up the fan.
“Why is it so cold?” Sam’s teeth chattered from the back seat.
“How much would you pay to go on a tropical vacation right now?” Kaitlyn asked.
Chitchat about our hypothetical vacation destinations filled the car as I made my way down Kilbourn Avenue toward the two-lane highway that led to the grocery store several minutes away from campus. The night was black and my car beams lit the falling snow. The flakes landed on my windshield, dozens at a time, crystalizing against the glass as the wipers flattened them. My car’s tires skidded through a turn onto a slick road. The snow thickened into a curtain. Visibility was poor, but that wasn’t the type of thing that worried an indestructible twenty-year-old.
I approached an SUV covered in white and creeping along in front of us. The city had only plowed one lane of the road in the previous hours, and the slow vehicle blocked it. My speedometer read 25 mph.
“Ugh. We’ll get to the store sometime next week at the rate we’re going.” I inched my car closer to the SUV, hoping the driver would get the message and speed up, but the SUV remained steady at 25 mph. “This guy is going like twenty miles under the speed limit.”
Kaitlyn fiddled with her seat belt. “Can we get around him? I have so much reading to do tonight.”
The snow fell harder, the flakes—almost as big as cotton balls—obscuring my line of sight. Still, I pressed my foot against the accelerator and swerved into the other lane as I sped around the creeping SUV. I didn’t see a third car exiting the hidden driveway of a strip mall as I zoomed past. My foot slammed against the brakes, but it was too late in the wintery conditions. My battered Accord skidded and collided with the shadowy car that suddenly appeared in front of the windshield.
