thirty-two

As we walk, I catch Jude wincing once or twice but when I ask if he’s in pain, he says, “I’ll survive.” Not I’m fine. That would be a lie. I’ve already suggested we take the bike, which he’s left just inside the forest, but he’s worried it’ll make too much noise, alerting our stalker. We’ll come back for it.

When we reach the edge of the forest, he says, “Did you know him? The victim?”

“He dated my sister. He was a good guy. A really—” My voice catches again. “I don’t understand how someone can do that. Stick his body down there and make everyone think he took off.”

“I think it probably escalated. Hit a kid. Try to cover it up. Make it worse. Pretty soon, he doesn’t see a way out.”

“Which isn’t an excuse.”

“Course not. That’s the problem with lies. They keep growing.”

We walk a little farther, and I can see the lights of town in the distance when I say, “Did you contact Roscoe about looking into that call between Edie and Lennon? The one he erased from his records?”

There’s a long silence. Then Jude says, “Lennon couldn’t have accidentally deleted it. He’d need to clear all his incoming call records. Which he didn’t.”

I stop short and turn. “Are you suggesting Edie didn’t call Lennon?”

“I…I don’t know.”

He tries to start walking again, but I get in front of him.

“What are you saying, Jude? Why would your brother lie…?” I trail off and then stare at him. “The only possible reason to lie would be if he was involved with Edie’s disappearance. If he was responsible. But someone did follow me in the forest when I was with him. I’m sure…”

Was I? Could I have misheard laughter in the forest and did Lennon then play along?

No, someone fired those arrows into my door while Lennon was standing right beside me. But it could have been an accomplice…or someone who knew what Lennon had done and came after him for that.

“You think your brother could have captured Edie?”

“No.” He skirts around me to keep walking, moving fast, agitated. “I don’t know what I think, Winter, just that I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Great. So if Lennon shows up at my trailer, I should just let him in, trust whatever story he tells?”

“Of course not—”

“You need to explain this to me, Jude.”

“And I will. After you report the body. But I can’t go with you to do that.”

“You’re worried that your brother is involved, and you’re worried the police will realize it because you won’t lie, even about that.”

His face tightens. “Yeah. I’d put my brother in the crosshairs of some small-town cop for some silly principle. I think we just proved that lying only makes things worse. My point is that I don’t have experience with making up stories, so I’m not good at it. That’ll show, and they’ll think I’m covering up the fact my brother is some psycho—” He cuts himself short. “Can I ask you to report it yourself, Winter? Leave me out of it?”

“Lie, you mean.”

That makes him go quiet. Then he swallows. “No, you’re right. That’s—”

“I’m not going to lie for you, Jude. But nor am I going to drag you to the station if you’ll jeopardize Lennon. I wasn’t going to tell the police about being trapped down in that bunker, which means I’m not telling them I thought someone else was there, which means there’s no point telling them about you, either. The weirder I make the story, the more likely they’ll question it. I’m sticking to the facts—I was checking into Edie’s disappearance, asking about other kids who’ve taken off, and that led to McCall and the bunker and Marty’s body.”

I trail off as I look around.

Jude stops short. “What?”

“I just realized we’ll walk right behind Owen McCall’s place if we keep heading this way.”

“You want to go a different route?” He looks at me and says, “No, you want to see if he’s there. If you’re planning to confront—”

“I’m not stupid. Yes, I’d like to see if he’s there, but without actually going on the property. If he is, it’s unlikely he was the person in that field.”

“Good point. I’ll check his vehicle, see if the engine’s hot, peek in the house if I can.”

“When I said I wouldn’t go on the property, I wasn’t hinting for you to do it.”

“I know. But I will. Then I’ll take off once you head into town.”

We keep walking. We’re getting close when a tree branch creaks. I stop. Jude looks over, his brows rising.

“You hear something?” he says again.

A tree branch. A creaking tree branch.

Uh, yeah, we’re in the forest, Winter.

I know. It’s just…

It’s the way it creaked. A sound that makes my scalp prickle, makes me think of the feral alpha, One-Eye, hanging from the tree.

Except that’s not really what I’m thinking of. I’m remembering a night when I heard a branch creak outside my shack.

I was sleeping there with Cady, for the first time in over a year. She’d told Colton she was going to college, and if he loved her, then he’d come to the city with her or wait back in Reeve’s End. She never told me how the conversation went, but that night, she wanted to sleep in the shack, and I thought that was my reward—that I’d given good advice, been a good sister, and she wanted to spend time with me.

Then we heard that noise outside the shack—that creak—and she jumped up, and when I rose, she grabbed my arm and told me not to answer the door.

I’ll fix this, Win. Let me talk to him. I’ll fix this.

I’ll fix this. That’s what she said. Just like Lennon.

But there are some things you can’t fix.

“Winter?”

I blink and for a second, I think I’m hearing Lennon, but the voice is pitched lower, more serious, and I look up into an equally serious pair of blue eyes. Jude stands in front of me, his hands on my forearms, holding me steady as if I was about to topple.

“Winter?”

I pull away, muttering something that isn’t really words.

“What did you hear?” he asks.

I shake my head. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Just the normal sounds of a night forest and a night town.

“That’s McCall’s place,” I say, pointing to a bungalow visible down the slope of the hill.

It’s your basic single-story residence with a living room, kitchen, and a couple of bedrooms, a layout so standard I know the light I see comes from the kitchen at the rear.

I tell Jude all this. When I finish, he says, “You sure you’re okay?” like he hasn’t heard a word about the house.

“I’ll be better once I’ve reported Marty’s body. Just let me peek around the trees and see if McCall’s truck is in the drive.”

I cut through the forest. I’ve turned off the penlight—I don’t want McCall spotting wavering lights in his backyard. I stick to the darkest pathway, one foot in front of the other, my gaze fixed on the ground, being careful not to trip.

There’s moss on the trees, thick and dangling moss, and I wind my way past a few strands and then go to brush another out of the way and my hand hits something solid.

It hits with a thump, and something swings and I duck, thinking it’s a booby trap. A pale blur strikes my cheek and I grab for it, and Jude is letting out a cry, and then I see what I’m grabbing for.

It’s a hand.

There’s a hand dangling in front of me.

I fall back and my gaze swings up and I see…

I’ll fix this, Win.

I’m back in my shack, on that long ago night, and I’m rubbing sleep from my eyes.

It’s Colt, Cadence says. He…he didn’t take it well. He’ll be fine. I just thought I should get away tonight, and I didn’t figure he knew about this place. I’m sorry.

It takes a moment for my groggy brain to realize what Cadence is saying. That the noise outside is her boyfriend, who has tracked her down to the shack. That she’s been lying awake waiting for him.

She’s afraid.

My sister is afraid.

That’s why she came here with me. She’s hiding. He’s angry, and she’s afraid of what he’ll do.

Why didn’t she tell me?

Why didn’t I notice?

She’s rising, but I push up fast, grab my switchblade, and run to the door.

“Winter! No!”

I ignore her. If Colt is pissy because she’s going to college, he can take that up with me. I’m the one who talked her into it.

I yank open the door before she can stop me, and I race out and—

“Winter?”

“Get back in—” I wheel and see…not my sister. It’s a guy. A stranger. In the forest.

“Winter?” The guy steps forward. It’s Jude.

My brain stutters, like it’s trapped between past and present. He’s talking, but all I hear is the blood pounding in my ears.

Get Cady back inside.

Don’t let her see…

Don’t let her see…

I turn slowly. There’s a body hanging in front of me. A body in a tree. I look up into its face. Into Colton’s face, his tongue protruding, eyes bulging, rope around his neck, the over-weighted limb going creak-creak as his body sways.

Get Cady back inside.

Don’t let her see this.

Colton wanted her to see it. Wanted her to step out in the morning and this to be the first thing she sees.

I spin, but it’s not Cadence behind me. It’s Jude, and he reaches for my forearms and says, “Let’s go over here. Just step aside. I’ll handle this.”

I’ll handle this.

I’ll fix this.

Here, Cady, let me fix your problem for you. Tell Colton you’re going to college. If he loves you, he’ll go with you or he’ll wait. There. See how easy that was? Nothing to it. Problem solved.

“Just step over here,” Jude says. “You don’t need to look at that.”

Jude’s hands tighten around my arms as he steers me away, and that snaps me back long enough to look over my shoulder and see Owen McCall hanging from the tree.

I dig in my heels and pull my hands free and rub them over my face.

“Sorry,” I say. “Sorry, sorry, sor—”

“Stop.”

“I just—”

“And I’m asking you not to apologize. Come over here and sit where you can’t see it.”

“I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do.” He takes my arm, firmer now. When I yank free, he gives that sigh and says, “Winter…” like I’m a misbehaving toddler, and that evaporates the last of my memory fog and I say, “I’m going to ask you not to do that again.”

A frown. “Do what?”

“Touch me.”

“I’m not…” He trails off and when he looks at me, it’s this deep, scrutinizing stare that feels like it’s going straight into my brain, ripping off the cover to look inside.

“Okay,” he says.

“I don’t mean—”

“No explanation needed. If you’re falling, I’ll still grab your arm, but otherwise, no.”

I mumble something before turning back toward—

“You don’t want to do that,” he says when I find myself facing the swinging corpse again. “Come on this way. Sit.”

There’s something white on McCall’s shirt. I hurry over. Jude jogs up beside me and swings into my path, his hands raised to ward me off.

“Look,” he says. “I’m not going to pry, but I will take a wild stab and guess this isn’t your first suicide. You aren’t going to make it better by pretending you’re not freaked right now. I’m seriously going to ask you to—”

“There’s a note.”

“I see that. And if I can read it without disturbing the body, I will do so and tell you what it says. You will retreat behind those trees and call the police.”

“Is that an order?”

“No. If you like, we can talk through your trauma and prepare you to deal with the body hanging behind me. You can tell me what happened before and—”

“Fine. Read the note.”

I find a convenient tree to lean against as I wait.

“It’s a confession,” he calls after a moment. “He says Marty ran across the road in front of him. It was late, and there may have been alcohol involved—which he clarifies to mean the kid might have been drinking, not him.”

“Bullshit.”

“Agreed. He knows it’s too late to prove it, and even in his confession he’s lying to protect himself and dishonor the dead. Couldn’t even confess properly, could you, asshole?”

Jude shakes his head, and when moonlight falls on his face, I see not anger but disappointment. As if he hoped for better, even from a stranger. As if he always hopes for better. As if he’s always disappointed.

When he reaches me, he’s stone-faced again. He glances at my hands, and I wonder why, and then remember what I was supposed to be doing.

I call it in. This time, someone answers.

“I’ve found…,” I begin. “I’ve found a body in the woods. Behind Owen McCall’s place. It’s—it’s Mr. McCall.”

Jude waits with me. I tell him the direction I expect the police to come and point out the best route for him to make his escape. When lights flash in McCall’s drive, I say, “That’s them.” Jude grunts. A car door opens and slams shut, and I say, “You need to go.” Jude starts walking…toward McCall’s drive.

I jog after him. “Not this way,” I whisper as Jude runs a hand through his hair, still walking. “You need to—”

Deputy Slate appears. He looks like he’s been woken from sleep and is none too happy about it. He shines his flashlight on us. Jude picks up his pace, shoulders squared, hand extended.

“Jude Bishop,” he says.