by Alex Tully
She glanced down to the marina and could see the yellow crime tape still stretched out around one of the docks. No more Mr. Crawford. She glanced over to cabana row. The largest cabana was gone, and in its place were two regular-sized cabanas. Now all the cabanas were the same.
Zoe opened the door to the Galley to go check in, and she immediately knew something was wrong. Two police officers, a man and a woman, turned around to greet her.
The woman officer held out a clipboard, “We won’t take much of your time. We are asking all of the employees here to answer a few questions. What’s your age?”
“Uh, sixteen?” she said it as more of a question than a statement.
“Okay,” the officer smiled. She was pretty—light blonde hair pulled back in a bun and bright green eyes. “Could you give me your mom’s number?”
“My mom?”
“Yes, or your dads?”
Zoe nodded, “Yeah, here.” She held out her phone with her mom’s contact information.
The cop looked at her phone, “It says Debbie,” but started scribbling the number down on her clipboard.
“Um, yeah, my mom wants me to call her that.”
“Doesn’t like the mom title huh?” she smiled again and this time Zoe noticed she had clear braces on, the same kind that Zoe desperately wanted.
“Um, what is this about?”
“Here, fill this out,” she put the clipboard down with a pen, “we’ll let you know in a little bit.”
Zoe looked down at the columns:
Name / Address / Phone number / Age
Only two names were filled in above her: Mandy Linsky and Heather Barry. They were probably the only ones working until the second shift came on at two.
She began filling in the information and noticed her hand was trembling. She glanced over at the police whose backs were turned again. The female officer began walking further into the restaurant with her phone against her ear, “Hello, this is Officer Mitchell with the Marblehead police department. If you could give me a call back…” her voice faded away. Probably called Debbie, who was snoring loudly when Zoe left the trailer.
Just then Heather emerged from the hallway that led to the blue room. She looked upset—had she been crying? She walked to the bar and started loading one of the coolers.
Zoe was just about to walk over and find out what was going on, when Officer Mitchell came over again. She took the clipboard, “Do you have another parent I could call? Your dad?”
“Uh, no. He’s not around. I mean—I don’t know him.”
“Okay, well until your mom calls back, we just ask that you don’t talk to the other employees about the interview.”
The interview? Zoe’s heart had been racing since she walked through the Galley door, but now she was getting even more anxious. She walked over to Heather, “Hey, am I in the kiddie pool today?”
Heather barely turned around, “Yeah, can you grab me a twelve-pack of Sprite—they’re over there.” She was pointing to the end of the bar where cases of pop were stacked on the floor.
Zoe went over and got the Sprite, and went back to the cooler. As she stood next to Heather, she noticed her usually impeccable eye make-up was smeared.
Zoe handed her the pop, “Here.”
“Thanks,” and then she said in a whisper, “Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.”
What? “Heather we’re not supposed to talk, that’s so obvious.”
“Just do it. If we both have to go to the bathroom, what are they gonna do to us? Just try.”
With that, Heather shut the cooler door and swiftly made her way past the police officers, and straight to the bathroom. Shit.
Zoe glanced over at the cops who seemed busy talking about cop stuff, “Do you think Marlin would take Thursday night for me…” They were paying absolutely zero attention to her. Screw it.
Zoe walked toward the bathroom, as casually as possible, and slipped inside. Heather was waiting, “We don’t have time. Did you ever talk or text with Crawford?”
“Um, no,” then she remembered the one text she had sent, “Wait, I mean I sent him a text so he would have my number because he asked me to.”
“Did he text back?” Heather’s eyes were wide.
“Yeah, just something like thank you, that was it.”
“Did you ever text again, or call again—anything?”
“No, that was it,” Zoe said, “Nothing after that.”
“Good, thank god,” Heather sighed.
“What the hell’s going on?”
Heather looked up at the ceiling, “They knew everything Zoe,” she stopped, and her eyes started tearing up, “They knew about the bonuses, our arrangement…”
“Shit…” Zoe said, “But none of that’s like, illegal is it?”
“I don’t think so…but the asshole cop just made me feel so guilty. He asked me about the night of the party—wanted to know exactly where I was at all times—like I fricking had something to do with Crawford! I told him after midnight I was still working, cleaning up after the party. And he’s like ‘were you with anyone?’ and then he wanted the names of the people who were with me.”
“Shit,” Zoe was at a loss, why did they think Heather had something to do with it? “How do you think they knew about all the money stuff?”
“Oh, they had print-outs of all of the text messages between Crawford and me, going back like forever. There were pages of them.”
The police must’ve gotten the last text message to Crawford—the one from Parker’s phone. Did they think Heather sent it?
Just then the door opened and Officer Mitchell came in. They were busted, but she didn’t look pissed.
“Zoe, could you come back, please? We got ahold of your mom, and she gave us verbal permission. It won’t take long.”
“Okay.”
Zoe followed Officer Mitchell back to the blue room where a man with a head like a bowling ball and a gray mustache was sitting at one of the tables, “Hi Zoe, I’m Detective Zeller.” The same guy Ethan and Parker had talked to. “Have a seat, I just want to ask you a couple questions, if that’s okay.”
She sat, “Yeah, I mean—yes.”
“I’m sure you’re aware we’re conducting an investigation into the death of Martin Crawford, and part of that is looking at his cell phone records. Your number was listed as one of his contacts so we are just doing our due diligence.”
She nodded, “okay.”
“Did you ever text or call Mr. Crawford or vice versa?”
“Um, yes, once. I texted him after I first started working here, just to give him my number.”
“Did he ask you to do that?”
“Yes, one day at work he gave me his business card and asked me to text him, so he could have my number.”
“Any text messages after that?”
“No, none.” And the detective already knew that, but he was obviously testing her.
“Did you work the Fourth of July party?” he was watching her carefully.
“Yes, until around 9:30. Then I went home to watch the fireworks.” She wasn’t about to mention why she left so early.
“And then?”
“I watched the fireworks with some friends, and then I went home to bed.”
“Friends?”
“Yeah, Parker and Shirley Webb.”
Detective Zeller jotted something down, “Anyone at home with you when you went to bed?”
Seriously? Heather was right, he was making her feel guilty—for nothing, “Not at first, but my mom came home later after I fell asleep.”
“Okay, and you gave your mom’s name and number to the officer out front, correct?”
“Yes—correct.”
He finally smiled, “We appreciate your cooperation, Zoe. That’s all we need.”
She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. As soon as she made it back to the bar, Heather was waiting, “Everything okay?”
“Well, you were right,” Zoe said, “he definite
ly makes you feel like you did something wrong. I’m just glad it’s over.”
She looked into the main pool area where people were starting to trickle in. She felt her shoulders relax, and a flutter in her chest. There he was—blue t-shirt, red swim trunks, and a baseball cap.
Ethan—the one person who could make her feel better—no matter what.
CHAPTER 39
ETHAN
Ethan spent the morning at the pool just waiting patiently until Zoe got her break. It was strangely relaxing, given that Crawford wasn’t sitting in his cabana gawking at her anymore.
He ordered lunch from the Galley and they took it down to a picnic table on the beach. Zoe started off the lunch date by telling him all about the police interview and how she had the honor of meeting Detective Zeller.
The more they talked about the interviews, the more convinced they were that the police were zeroing in on the girls working there. Whatever the last text message to Crawford said, it seemed to have something to do with them.
He had told Zoe about the drama with his parents that morning. She made him feel better just being there and listening, but she also said some things that made him look at the whole situation a little differently.
“Ethan, I know you might not want to hear this right now, but the bottom line is that your parents care about you, a lot. They may show it in a screwed up way, but down deep you know they just want the best for you.”
He knew she was probably right, but he couldn’t help the anger he felt about all the lying.
She went on, “I’m just saying, it’s not a given with parents—that they care. Believe it or not, there are parents that just don’t give a shit—I should know.”
“I’m sure your mom cares, Zoe,” although he truly didn’t know if Debbie had it in her.
Zoe shrugged, “Just give your parents a chance. Don’t hold on to all that resentment—it’s not good for you.”
“I know.” He watched Zoe take a bite of her sandwich and had another overwhelming feeling of guilt. She was right, and he knew it.
At least there wouldn’t be any more tip-toeing around with his parents, no more charade, no more lies. And as messed up as the Dr. Malone situation was, Ethan had to admit that the therapy had actually helped him—maybe even a lot.
Ethan didn’t have a clue what would happen going forward, but in a weird way, he felt better about his future relationship with his mom and dad than ever before.
Zoe was wise beyond her years. He felt like he could tell her anything. In fact, he wanted to tell her everything—even about the night that changed his life forever.
Before he lost his courage he said, “So, now that we’re talking about my parents, and how worried they’ve been about me,” he paused, “do you want to know what screwed me up so bad?”
Zoe’s eyes changed and she suddenly looked—nervous, “Well, only if you want to tell me.”
And so he did.
***
Ethan needed to find Troy a.s.a.p. He had the weed and everybody was asking for it. He made his way through the upstairs hallway, nodding at people as he passed, “Hey, what’s up?... How ya doing?... Hey man…” Some he knew, some he’d never seen before.
That’s what happened when Troy had a party. It wasn’t just St. Andrews students who came—people came from everywhere.
His dad lived in a huge loft in downtown Cleveland that took up the entire top floor of a renovated industrial building. The walls were brick, the beams and ductwork were exposed, and the modern art that hung on the walls cost a small fortune. It was the ultimate bachelor pad, and it held a lot of partygoers.
Troy was a good friend since grade school. They grew up in the same neighborhood and played lacrosse together. He was definitely different—one of the smartest kids Ethan knew, but also one of the hardest to figure out. The type of kid who would say something outrageous, but you still couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. He liked to get a reaction out of people.
Troy had been MIA for a while, so Ethan went to his bedroom. He knocked, no answer.
“Troy! Dude, you in there?” No answer.
Ethan turned the knob—not locked. As soon as he opened the door a waft of cold air hit him in the face. The room was freezing.
The first thing he noticed was the sliding glass door—it was wide open. Troy was sitting on the balcony. Not sitting in a chair on the balcony, but sitting on the balcony—on the barrier to be exact—a brick wall about three feet high and maybe a foot thick.
“Troy?” He said it quietly because he didn’t want to startle him, “What are you doing man?”
Troy turned his head slightly but didn’t say anything. He was hunched over, legs dangling freely, his hands grasping onto the small lip of concrete he was sitting on.
Ethan stepped onto the balcony, “Dude, get down from there and come inside. It’s cold as shit.”
Troy barely flinched. He stared straight out into the night sky, the city lights twinkled in the distance.
“Seriously, Troy,” he took another step, “you’re making me kind of nervous.”
“Stop Ethan,” Troy’s voice shook, “don’t come any closer.”
What?! Something was very wrong.
“Okay,” Ethan felt a rush of something—like hot nervous energy—deep inside of him, filling his body with a sickening feeling of dread, “I’m not moving.”
“Throw your phone over here, now—quick!”
Oh my God…
“Okay, here,” Ethan carefully took the phone out of his pocket and slid it across the concrete balcony, “it’s gone.” He held his hands up and splayed his fingers apart so Troy could see they were empty.
“Sit down, Ethan, right where you are,” he said it in the same strange voice. It was like he was a completely different person.
“Okay,” Ethan bent at the knees and slid down, with his back against the wall of the balcony, “I’m sitting.” His chest hurt from the force of his beating heart—he was sure he must be having a heart attack, “Will you please come down, man? You’re freaking me out.”
There were only a couple of feet of space between them. Maybe if Ethan moved quickly enough, he could just grab the back of his shirt…
“See Ethan,” Troy started, “I’m just done with this whole shit-show, you know?” He turned his head just slightly to make brief eye contact, “You get me right?”
Ethan nodded, “Uh, well…I guess.”
He and Troy had a few intense conversations in the past. They’d smoke some weed and talk about the meaning of life, that sort of bullshit. Didn’t everybody? But Ethan never would’ve thought Troy was seriously depressed, and definitely not suicidal.
“You ever wonder, like what’s the point? Like, really…every day it just gets shittier and shittier.”
Ethan was terrified of saying the wrong thing, “Well dude, of course I think about that shit all the time.”
“No man,” Troy hung his head, “I don’t think you do—not like I do.”
Ethan’s mind was going a hundred miles an hour. His throat was dry, but he was sweating like crazy. He glanced back at the bedroom door that was opened a crack—maybe someone would come looking for them.
He tried to steady his voice, “Can you come down here so we can at least talk face-to-face.”
“I like the view up here,” Troy said calmly, like he was perfectly comfortable where he was.
Seconds went by that felt like minutes. Ethan stared at his phone on the other side of the balcony, how could he get to it?
“Hey Ethan, how do you think it would feel—to just freefall?”
The adrenaline that surged through Ethan’s body filled his head with a loud thumping noise that clouded his hearing. The panic inside him was so overwhelming, he was physically losing control. He had to move, “Dude can I just stand for a second?”
“Ethan, don’t come near me. I’m serious.”
“I’m not,” he held up his hands, “I just need to stretch my legs for
a second...hey, do you want me to go find Piper?” She was Troy’s younger sister and although Ethan hadn’t seen her at the party, maybe bringing up her name would help in some way.
“Ha!” Troy let out a sarcastic laugh, “perfect Piper’s with my mom. That girl’s so clueless—if I offed myself, she wouldn’t care, trust me.”
Shit…
“This isn’t the first time I’ve done this you know,” Troy smiled, a sickening smile that made Ethan’s stomach turn, “It’s actually the third—or maybe the fourth.”
Jesus…
“But,” he sighed as if he was disappointed in himself, “I always chicken out.”
Think Ethan!
“Dude, I came up here to smoke some weed,” Ethan said playfully, trying to hide the tremor in his voice, “will you at least come down and get high with me, then you can figure out what the hell you want to do.”
Troy was quiet. Maybe he was thinking about it.
“I heard you got some really good stuff,” Ethan said as casually as possible, “Can I at least try it?”
“It is good.”
“Yes,” Ethan felt a flicker of hope “Dude, let’s smoke that shit, c’mon.”
“You know what,” Troy shifted his body slightly backwards, “maybe you’re right.”
Oh, thank god…
Troy swung one leg over the ledge of the balcony, and as he did, his body teetered, and he lost his balance. He reached for the ledge, grasping for something—but there was only air.
Ethan lunged to grab him, but Troy was already gone.
CHAPTER 40
ZOE
Oh my god…
Zoe felt sick to her stomach and that was just from hearing about it, no wonder Ethan had anxiety issues, “I don’t even know what to say, Ethan, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
His head was hung low, “I didn’t see him fall,” Ethan said it so quietly, she could barely hear him, “I must’ve looked away at the last second.”
Zoe sat next to him and put her arm around him, “I can’t even imagine.”
“What I can’t get out of my mind, is the sound. Or I guess I should say, the silence. He didn’t scream—at all. Nothing.”
