Her Best Friend's Lie

by Laura Wolfe

  Charlotte made a face and held out her empty cup. “I have to pee.”

  “I think the bathroom is on the other side,” I said, pointing past the hordes of people in the front room. “We’ll wait for you.”

  I took Charlotte’s cup and she wove her way between groups of people.

  “Oh my God.” Jenna’s hand tightened around my arm. “Pete’s here.”

  I followed her stunned gaze to the opposite corner of the room. Pete’s broad shoulders dwarfed the people around him. He touched his fingers to his square jaw and laughed. I’d barely talked to Pete since he’d kissed me at the Mexican restaurant a month earlier. I’d only spotted him in passing in the auditorium where our Abnormal Psychology professor held her lecture. The Monday following the kiss, Pete had approached me with a smile on his face, but I could only see Frida’s damning eyes staring back at me. In the most detached tone I could muster, I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. Then I hurried toward a seat in the back corner of the auditorium, making a point never to look in his direction. Amazingly, he hadn’t bothered me after that.

  The sight of Pete here at the party made my heart race. At the same time, Jenna’s presence clogged my veins with dread. It felt as if a giant spotlight was shining on me, highlighting my betrayal to the entire crowd. Jenna had never mentioned my dinner with Pete or the kiss. I’d spent nearly two weeks of sleepless nights worrying about the fallout before I realized Frida wasn’t going to rat me out.

  “He’s here with Grant, his roommate.” Jenna bit her lip. “Should I go talk to him?”

  A warning bristled through me. “No,” I said, shaking my head. I knew Jenna hadn’t gotten over Pete. I hadn’t gotten over him either and we’d never really even been a couple. I wanted to stay as far away as possible to ensure no one exposed my secret. “Let’s ignore him. Those other guys will be back in a second with our refills. The taller one was really into you. When Pete sees you talking to him, it’ll make him jealous. He’ll realize what a dumb piece of shit he was.”

  Jenna’s lip curved into a smile. Her eyes flickered around the room but landed back on Pete. Just as quickly as it had formed, my friend’s smile faded, and her hand dropped to her side. I followed her line of sight. A slender woman with a shiny braid, mirrored sunglasses, and a bikini top sidled up to Pete. He draped his sturdy arm around her bronzed skin and kissed her on the lips. They pulled apart and smiled, then kissed again. The woman looked vaguely familiar, and I realized where I’d seen her before. She was one of Jenna’s former soccer teammates.

  I sucked in my breath and turned toward Jenna. Her face crumpled as she swiped the back of her hand under her nose. “I have to leave.” She forced her way through the crowd, using her crutches to clear a path.

  I searched the crowd for Charlotte as I chased after Jenna. “Jenna, wait!” I yelled, but Jenna couldn’t hear me over the music. I couldn’t let her walk home alone on her crutches, especially when she was this upset. I noticed a stairway just ahead and climbed up to the third step to survey the room. Charlotte’s brunette hair and purple flower caught my eye. She wove her way through boisterous groups of people, then stopped. She’d run into her biology classmate again.

  “Charlotte!” I yelled, but she didn’t look toward me. It was impossible to hear anything over the music. I thought of Jenna hobbling down the dark city street alone and couldn’t bear it. There’d been a string of muggings on campus, and Jenna would make an easy target. I pushed through the crowd and went after her, reassuring myself that Charlotte knew a couple of familiar faces at the party. We didn’t all need to leave. Charlotte could stay and still have a good time.

  I stumbled down the steps and through the front door. Jenna needed me. I’d explain everything to Charlotte later.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Charlotte’s feet crushed the tall grass behind me as I marched a few steps ahead. Memories from the night of the Hawaiian party swarmed my head, the music and colors becoming more vivid after Charlotte’s disturbing revelation. I had no idea someone had assaulted her that night. I shook my head, acknowledging “assaulted” wasn’t a strong enough word. She had been raped.

  More photos from Kaitlyn’s album scrolled through my mind. The ones of Charlotte with her black clothes, black makeup, and piercings at the end of our junior year suddenly made sense. Her drastic change in appearance started right after that fraternity party, but I’d never made the connection. She’d been sullen and withdrawn. She’d traded her preppy clothes for drab colors and heavy makeup. She’d gained weight, binge eating in her bedroom, and sneaking food when she thought no one was watching. These were potential signs of trauma. I’d missed them all. I’d mistakenly believed Charlotte’s change in behavior stemmed from guilt over Jenna’s car accident.

  Why hadn’t Charlotte told us? I tightened my fists as I walked, trying not to be annoyed with her. She’d been the victim. As with many victims of sexual assault, she probably felt shame. Maybe she even felt responsible. Or maybe she didn’t want us to feel bad for abandoning her at the party. But if I’d known what had happened to her—if I’d had any clue—I would have insisted that she report the crime to campus police and undergo counseling. Charlotte was right about one thing—I hadn’t been a good friend at all.

  “Even if you’re not in the photo, I can’t let you live.” Charlotte’s tightly strung voice yanked me from my thoughts. “I can’t risk having witnesses walking around.”

  “I’m your friend. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

  Charlotte didn’t respond.

  I spoke louder. “Not many people have true friends. You’ve always been that person for me. It’s rare to find a friendship like ours. I’m sorry I never told you that sooner.”

  Charlotte huffed out a breath. “If you’re such a true friend, why don’t you ever call me? Why haven’t you made any effort to get together in the last five years? We live half an hour from each other.”

  I dug my fingernails into my leg as I trekked toward the canoe. “You’re right. I don’t know. Things have been busy, especially with the kids. My weekends aren’t free anymore. And, like I told you, Andrew and I have been struggling.”

  Charlotte’s breath heaved from behind me. “I’m going to blame all the deaths on Travis. I’ll say I shot him in self-defense and then escaped.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. That’s a good plan. I’ll backup your story. Travis was such a hateful person. No one will question it.” I kept my voice steady, hoping she’d believe me.

  Charlotte didn’t argue with my response, and I took that as a good sign. We descended the steps to the water and arrived at the canoe’s hiding place. The aluminum end of the boat stuck out beyond the brush. I turned to face her. I’d done an amateurish job covering my tracks.

  Charlotte motioned with the barrel of the gun. “Flip it over. Let’s go.”

  I closed my fingers around the edges and heaved the canoe onto its side, letting it fall face-up at our feet. A hazy mist rose off the still lake. I scanned the shoreline for any sign of Jenna but couldn’t find her.

  “Pull it into the water and get in.” Charlotte directed me with the gun, never lowering it from my direction.

  “There’s a leak.”

  “You made it across last night.”

  I pushed the boat into the shallows, ignoring the way the cold liquid seeped through my dampened shoes and into my socks. Gripping the oar, I stepped into the canoe and sat on the seat closest to the front. The boat tilted to the side as Charlotte climbed in behind me and shoved us further into the water.

  “You should row since you’re in the back.” I kept my eyes trained ahead of me so that Charlotte couldn’t detect my scheme. She would have to set down the gun if she took the paddle, giving me a chance to grab the firearm and defend myself until I could escape.

  “Nice try,” she said. “Start paddling. You know the way.”

  My body was hollow and aching, but I paddled, aware of the gun pointed at my back and the pu
ddle forming at my feet. I pulled the oar through the water twice on one side before switching over to the other. The boat was heavier now, and each stroke produced only a weak boost forward. Using this inefficient method, I zigzagged us across the glassy lake as more water seeped into the boat.

  The only way to make it out alive—to see Marnie and Wyatt again—was to establish a convincing bond of friendship and trust with Charlotte. I had to make her believe I was useful and that she needed me for her plan to work. She would soon see the snapshot of herself and Jenna wearing their Hawaiian outfits just before we left for the party. Kaitlyn wasn’t in the photo. Would Charlotte remember I was the one who had taken the picture and that I’d been wearing a flower-print shirt too? I had to convince her she was misremembering things. I was running out of time.

  “Want to grab dinner once we get back to the suburbs, and things settle down?” I stopped paddling and let the canoe glide through the water.

  Charlotte grunted.

  “We need to keep our stories straight. You know, after all this. Plus, we’re going to need our friendship more than ever now that we both have rocky marriages. We can plan a weekly ladies’ night out. Won’t that be fun?”

  “I doubt that will happen.”

  “Why wouldn’t it?”

  “Keep paddling, Megan. I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

  “It’s not bullshit. I’m your friend, Charlotte. I may not be perfect, but I’ve always been your friend.” Water splashed against the side of the canoe. A rugged shoreline appeared in the distance just as the water inside the boat rose past my shoe. “Your trip to Europe sounds fun. Tell me more about it. What city are you flying into?”

  Charlotte waited several seconds before responding. “Paris. I’m not going now that I don’t have a job. Reed was supposed to go with me.”

  “I can go with you. I’ll pay for our tickets. I’ve always wanted to go to Paris.”

  “I think I’ll wait to see the proof from the photo album first. Keep paddling.”

  “Okay.” My blood turned colder than the water surrounding my feet. Would the photo without me in it be enough to convince Charlotte I hadn’t left her at the party?

  I guided the canoe toward the stretch of rocky beach I’d escaped from only a few hours earlier. Returning to the desolate spot without outside help felt devastating. My body was weak. I was out of options. There was no choice except to play the part of Charlotte’s loyal friend and hope that she’d spare me and that I could somehow save Jenna, too.

  The canoe scraped against rocks near the shore, and we bobbed in place. It had only been two days since we discovered Kaitlyn’s lifeless body in almost this exact spot. Three days since we’d found Sam lying in the woods. If only I’d realized that Charlotte had been responsible. She’d seemed so upset at the time, but maybe she’d merely been reacting to the aftermath of her own heinous actions. I pulled my eyes from the water’s smooth surface and stared at my dirty fingernails. Nausea ate away at my insides.

  “Get out,” Charlotte said. “Pull me onto the sand. No sudden movements.”

  I stood slowly and plunged my foot into the lake. I turned to face her, finding the gun still raised in my direction. My fingers closed around the front of the canoe, and I tugged it up to dry land. Charlotte stepped onto the rocks, lifting her chin toward the wooded incline. “You go first.”

  I climbed up the hill toward the cabin, my feet sliding beneath me on the uneven path. I searched over my right shoulder through the trees, looking for any sign of Jenna.

  “Eyes straight ahead,” Charlotte said.

  I refocused on the narrow path, wondering what Charlotte didn’t want me to see. Maybe Jenna was tied up somewhere nearby. A few steps later, a putrid scent hit me in the face. I stopped walking, covering my mouth with my hand. I’d smelled the same odor last year when I’d found a dead mouse under the hood of my car. It was the smell of death. Only this was ten thousand times more intense. The bodies were decomposing. It was unbearable.

  Charlotte coughed from behind me. A breeze drifted through the trees and offered temporary relief. I pulled in a breath of the fresh air and continued trudging up the hill and onto the deck.

  “Go inside and get the album. I’m following you.”

  I opened the door to the kitchen; the foul odor suffocated us as we stepped inside. I shielded my mouth and nose with my arm. Charlotte made a gagging sound. The photo album lay on the living room table. I grabbed it and held it up for Charlotte to see.

  She nodded and motioned toward the door. “Take it out to the deck.”

  I gasped for air as we exited the kitchen. It was easier to breathe outside. Still, the stench of Travis’s decomposing body clung to me, permeating my hair and clothing. I paced toward the table, feeling like I was walking the plank. My fingers felt thick and awkward as I flipped through the pages.

  Charlotte’s eyes sunk into her face like black pebbles. “Where’s the proof that you’re not an awful person?”

  “It’s in here.” My frantic hands flipped through the album. Two pages stuck together. I opened near the back of the book and found a photo of “morbid Charlotte” staring back at me. She wore heavy black eyeshadow and lipstick, a chunk of neon pink hair fell into her face, and she had multiple nose piercings. In retrospect, Charlotte’s altered appearance was so obviously her response to the attack. She’d tried to turn herself into someone else to escape the pain. How had I not seen it?

  Charlotte saw me staring at the photo. “Are you going to take another dig at my lipstick?”

  “What? No. I wouldn’t. Especially after what you told me.”

  The middle pages separated, and I located the photo. Jenna stood a half-foot taller than Charlotte, looping her arm around Charlotte’s shoulder. Although it was the middle of winter, they wore summery, floral tops. Necklaces made of shells encircled their necks. A purple flower was propped behind Charlotte’s ear. Jenna wore a blue one. Mine had been pink, but I wasn’t in the photo.

  I pointed to the photo. “See. I wasn’t with you.”

  Charlotte’s lip curled back. “This is your proof? This doesn’t prove anything other than you weren’t in the photo.”

  “I took this photo,” I said. “I’m sure that’s why you remember me being at the party. But I didn’t go with you. I was babysitting for the Maloneys like I usually did on Saturday nights. After seeing this picture again, I remember it clearly. It was Kaitlyn who’d been with you and Jenna. She was wearing a flower behind her ear just like these.” I jabbed my finger at the picture. “Except Kaitlyn’s flower was pink. And she was wearing a straw skirt over her denim skirt,” I said, describing what I’d been wearing that night.

  A question flickered behind Charlotte’s eyes. She was deciding whether to believe me. Maybe the details were causing her to doubt her memory.

  Something thumped against the side of the house, like a bird flying into a window or a branch hitting the roof.

  Charlotte’s eyes stretched wide. “What was that?”

  “Oh no,” I said in a loud whisper. “It’s probably Marlene. She must have smelled the bodies.”

  Charlotte stood, heaving the gun in front of her. It was the first time she had lost her focus on me. I had no reason to think Marlene had caused the noise, but my theory urged Charlotte to investigate. With her back to me, Charlotte crept toward the side of the house. Several empty wine bottles sat near the wall of the cabin, and I recognized the opportunity. I drifted over to the line of empties. My fingers tightened around the neck of the closest one, a bottle of Chardonnay with a ripped black label. I held my breath as I lifted the makeshift weapon above me, slowly and silently. Gathering energy from every cell in my body, I swung the bottle down on the back of Charlotte’s head. The glass landed with a crack. Charlotte collapsed.

  I lunged toward Charlotte’s limp body, noticing the rise and fall of her chest. She was unconscious but alive. I removed the rifle from her hands and inched around the side of the house,
gasping with relief when I found no one there. Only a broken branch leaned against the cabin’s wood siding. Tears dripped down my cheeks, and I didn’t try to stop them. Looping the gun strap around my shoulder, I turned and sprinted into the woods, praying Jenna was still alive.

  Chapter Thirty

  I raced through the trees, heading in the direction I’d been looking when Charlotte told me to keep my eyes pointed forward. Jenna was likely somewhere in the area, and Charlotte hadn’t wanted me to spot her. I refused to let my soggy shoes slow me down. I plodded faster, ducking under branches as my eyes scanned across dozens of tree trunks. I clutched the rifle in my hand.

  “Jenna!” I yelled. I paused, wanting to believe I’d heard something.

  “Mmff!”

  There it was again. My head swung toward the faint noise, and I clamored to the top of a ridge. A flash of blue caught my eye through the trees—the same color as Jenna’s shirt. I saw her then, sitting against a thick trunk. A bandana gagged her mouth, but her eyes pulled me to her.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’re safe. We’re getting out of here.” Tears streamed down my face, rolling onto my neck and under my collar as I ran. Jenna was alive! I crouched down when I reached her, setting down the gun and untying the knot at the back of the bandana.

  She spat it from her mouth and sputtered for breath. “It was Charlotte.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I left you.”

  Jenna’s eyes flitted over me, crazed. “Where is she?”

  I tipped my head toward the cabin. “I knocked her out. She’s unconscious.” My fingers tugged at a knot in the rope that bound Jenna’s wrists. Finally, the rope was loose enough for her to break free. She reached down as we untied her ankles together.

  Jenna panted, deep wrinkles forming around her eyes. “She wants to kill both of us. She said we ruined her life, but she wouldn’t tell me what we did.”