13. Jayne
JAYNE
AFTER MY INTERACTION with Mason, the only thing I want to do is find Sadie.
Trevor’s house is absolutely packed with people, and it’s impossible to tell where she might be.
There’s a massive bonfire outside near the old barn that I caught sight of when I first got here, and I figure that might be as good a place as any to start.
A quick scan of the room tells me that she isn’t here, although it’s just as likely that she’s upstairs with Ben somewhere.
I guess they could also be screaming at each other in the cornfield right now.
To-may-to, to-mah-to. It’s a fine line with those two, although, to be honest, Ben is the emotional one, really.
Everyone thinks it’s Sadie, but she’s more logical than people give her credit for.
That’s probably one of the reasons she’s still with Ben—logic.
Good future, good family (except for the whole murder thing with Ben’s uncle), good money.
Whenever I think about the two of them, it reminds me of something that Meg Ryan’s character says in When Harry Met Sally.
She and Billy Crystal’s character are talking about whether or not Ilsa really wanted to stay with Rick at the end of Casablanca, which is one of my favorite old movies.
Anyway, Meg’s character basically argues that Ilsa would rather go with Victor Laszlo and be first lady of wherever than stay in Casablanca with a guy who owns a bar.
And that’s what I think about when it comes to Sadie and Ben—that Sadie would rather be first lady of wherever than stuck in Casablanca with a guy who owns a bar.
Happiness is not a factor. Practicality is, even if Sadie herself hasn’t realized it yet.
I’m a practical girl too. I just happen to have very different ambitions than my sister and a very different set of ends that justify the means.
Right now, though, my only end involves finding Sadie and getting her home before my parents show up.
It sounds simple, but it’s anything but—especially since I’ve set the ambitious goal of not just getting Sadie home but Liz too, if I can find her, and preferably getting them both upstairs and asleep in Sadie’s room within the next hour or so.
The last thing any of us needs is for them to be awake and obviously drunk when Steven and Carly show up.
All I need to see is the text from my mom to know that she is not happy about having to come back and probably even more angry at my dad for somehow forgetting the one thing they need before they travel anywhere.
“Would you consider your father a forgetful man? Has he ever forgotten his medication before?”
I pause for a moment, pulling myself out of the scene from last night and back to the present moment before I take a detour into memories of family vacations. Steven Cooper is a lot of things, but forgetful isn’t necessarily one of them. Unless, of course, he’s distracted.
“It’s happened once or twice,” I say finally. “But normally he’s able to just call someone and have his medication ready to pick up at the local pharmacy. I think the only reason they decided to come home is because there weren’t any drugstores open, and it was easier to just drive back.”
Detective Sloane Budd is paying close attention to everything I’m telling her, and I appreciate that.
It’s important to feel like someone is listening—actually listening, not just putting on a show of it like some of these local detectives.
I try to give them the benefit of the doubt.
I can’t imagine working around here is the best way to hone your policing skills or get paid a living wage.
But Detective Budd is here because she is personally invested in this case.
I get the sense that somehow she has something at stake here.
And while I don’t entirely understand what or why, I am more than willing to cooperate.
“By the way,” she says, almost casually, “there seem to be some inconsistencies with what you and Liz Stratton are saying about the party.”
“What kind of inconsistencies?”
“Just… timing. What happened after you showed up. Who you first spoke to, for example.”
I rub my face and shake my head. How is it that Sadie is gone and Liz is still messing with this family?
“Look,” I say, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in my voice. “I don’t know what Liz told you, and to be frank, I don’t need to know. She was absolutely plastered last night.”
“She said—”
“Let me guess. She said that she doesn’t drink anymore, right?
Or some other cop told you that she said that?
I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Detective Budd, but that is a flat-out lie, and if you believe it, then you’re doing yourself a disservice in my sister’s case.
What I’m telling you is the truth. I showed up at the party, got cornered by Mason Vreeland when I attempted to get myself something that could only vaguely be considered to resemble a drink, and I got out of that situation as fast as I could.
You can check my texts—I told Evan about it as soon as it happened. ”
“Did you see Miss Stratton when you came into the room?”
I pause, racking my brain.
“No,” I say finally. “If I’d seen her when I first came in, I would have asked her where Sadie was and tried to corral both of them into the car.
I didn’t see her until later in the night, out by the bonfire.
And like I said, she was wasted at that point.
I’m not trying to get her into trouble; I’m sure she’s doing her best to fill in the blanks of last night.
She must feel as awful as I do about everything that happened.
She’s probably just… I don’t know, trying to imagine what might have happened and calling that the truth. ”
“Interesting theory.”
I shrug. “It’s more than a theory, Detective.
Liz has done this in the past. Blacked out and then tried to fill in the blanks with whatever version of the story she thought would work best for her audience.
I don’t mean to sound harsh or judgmental, but I just can’t let this stand.
My sister is dead, and I don’t care if Liz wishes she remembered what happened last night.
” My eyes are starting to well up again—they keep doing that anytime I actually have to utter the words about Sadie’s death—and I let the tears go.
“She doesn’t remember, and nothing is going to change that.
It’s her cross to bear, and I hurt for her, I really do, because that must be hard.
The guilt must be hard. But I’m not going to sit here and let her tell you lies about what happened last night just to soothe her conscience. It’s wrong.”
“I’ll note that you disagree with her version of events.”
“Vehemently disagree,” I reply.
“Duly noted. Thank you for your candor, Jayne.”
“Well, I’m under oath, aren’t I?”
“Not quite. This isn’t a trial. But in a manner of speaking, let’s say so.”
“Well, then, you should know, Detective, that Sadie and I always made pinky promises to each other when… when we were both here. It may sound immature, but it was our thing. A twin thing. And I’ll give you the same thing that I gave her—my promise.”
“Thank you, Jayne. So, if you didn’t see Miss Stratton when you first came in, what happened after you had the interaction with Mason Vreeland?”
I tuck my phone away after a quick back-and-forth with Evan.
I’m looking forward to updating him as soon as this whole night shakes out.
He’s already been talking to me about his big plans for a spring break group vacation before we all go off to college next year.
No details yet, but I can’t wait to get out of here and escape to wherever Evan considers “somewhere classy, with classy people.” I haven’t met any of Evan’s other friends, and he hasn’t really met anyone here either, aside from my family, Ben, and Liz.
That’s the thing about a long-distance friendship.
Something I appreciate about it, actually.
It allows me to curate myself a little bit more, almost like dress rehearsal for getting out of this town and building a new life for myself in college.
But right now, I am anywhere but somewhere classy. I fight my way through the crowd of people in Trevor’s house and take a deep breath when I finally make it out the back door and the cold autumn air hits my lungs. How on earth do people even breathe here?
The bonfire is already blazing, and I faintly wonder how Trevor pulls off things like this without burning his parents’ field to the ground.
Then again, Trevor McClain is the kind of guy who is endlessly creative when it comes to putting together a party.
Even though I’ve never been to one of them, they’re legendary for a reason.
“Do you know if Mason Vreeland frequently went to parties at Trevor’s house?” Detective Budd interrupts.
“I couldn’t possibly tell you,” I reply. “Like I just said, last night was the first time I’d ever been to one of Trevor’s parties myself. Liz would know.”
“Wouldn’t Trevor McClain be the best person for me to ask?”
I shrug. “Honestly, probably not. There must have been a hundred people there last night, maybe more, and I can’t imagine it’s ever any different. Trevor probably has no idea who actually shows up.”
“Fair enough. Let me switch topics for a moment—at what point in the night did you first see Ben Carrera?”
At the mention of Ben’s name, my hackles go up. I can’t help it.
“He’s telling you the truth,” I say simply. “About what happened last night.”
“That’s not the question I asked, Jayne.”
“I know, but it’s where all this is leading.
Did I see Ben; if so, when; was he drunk; and was there anything else to note about his situation with Sadie or Mason?
I’ve seen enough old detective movies to know this song and dance, Detective Budd.
I’m simply trying to streamline this process for both of us. ”
For a moment, I think Detective Budd is about to go along with me, and we can just wind down this entire unfortunate situation. I desperately want to go home. I need to see my parents. I need to lie down in my own bed. I need to come to terms with my new future. I need to talk to Evan.
“I’m sorry, Jayne, but we are still going to have to go through the whole—how did you put it?—song and dance. Hazard of the trade, I’m afraid, no matter how much you or anyone else might like to skip ahead to the part where this is resolved in a neat and tidy way.”
“My sister was stabbed to death, Detective. I don’t think there’s any such thing as a ‘neat and tidy’ resolution. I’m not a fool.”
“I never said you were.”
In this moment, I almost miss the local detective who was bringing me terrible cups of tea and doing his best to relate to the feelings of a teenage girl.
I liked Detective Sloane Budd when she first came into the room, but I’m starting to get more than a little tired of the third degree and play-by-play of last night.
I have zero desire to relive the events of the past twenty-four hours and even less of a desire to get backed into a corner that ends with me telling her something that will get Ben in even more trouble than he’s in now.
Because the good news for Ben Carrera is that, as long as the trouble isn’t too bad, his father can get him out of it.
I know that for a fact. And in this particular case, murdering a guy from school who just killed his girlfriend qualifies to me as something that might be bad but isn’t too bad.
There’s really no reason for the detective to start looking under rocks in search of something more.
This story is what it is, and none of us can change it.