Chapter 29
“So which do you think?” Caroline had laid out two pairs of pajama short sets on her bed, one white with red hearts on it and the other lemon with cherries.
Both were, Anna thought, cute enough to be a pervert’s dream.
She looked at her little sister, with her hair like silk and her body that was becoming something new and her green eyes and long legs, and wanted to fold her up and put her back into her child’s body.
“Either. I like the lemon best.” Anna leaned on the doorframe.
“This party isn’t until next week though, right?
Which of your friends are going?” Her tone was light.
Disinterested. Her heart pounded hard though.
Was this how it had been for Mom when Anna was younger?
Questioning her, afraid of the answers? Women in an endless cycle of fear of everything that could go wrong.
The hurt that could be done. Passed down generation to generation, a secret thing men could never truly understand.
“Holly, me, Jolene Summers, and Jessica Brown. They’re my main friends.
Some other people too.” Caroline picked up the yellow set and folded it on the chair before putting the other away.
“We’re doing nails and stuff so we’re matching.
We’re going to be camping. Although Holly’s calling it glamping, so I figure it won’t be like when I went to the woods with my school in Boston.
” She grinned as she held up a set of undereye gel patches.
“Mom got me these to take for when we’re getting ready in the afternoon.
Holly’s going to love them. They’re collagen and everything. ”
“Because that’s what your twelve-year-old skin needs. A little more collagen.” She forced herself to smile and make it into a joke. It was enough that she was always fighting with Mom. She didn’t want to fight with Caroline too.
“Nearly thirteen. And they have a pizza oven in their yard and a pool. Bikini or one-piece? Maybe I’m too fat for a bikini. They’re all thinner than me.”
“Don’t even start with that. You and Holly are the same size.
Trust me. I saw you together. And if that size is fine for the great Holly Greenbough, then you don’t need to worry.
” It wasn’t the most politically correct reassurance, but no nearly thirteen-year-old was buying into the “all bodies are beautiful” memes, however true they might be.
They needed to hear what they needed to hear.
That they were thin. And Anna wasn’t worried.
Caroline loved food, but she also loved sports, and she’d never starve herself and damage that.
She knew food was energy. Her worries were doubts, nothing more, as her body shifted, changing and unreliable, around her.
It wasn’t so long ago that Anna couldn’t remember how it felt.
“Her parents’ll be there, right?” Now she really did sound like Mom.
But Caroline was heading into that in-between time where some parents had decided they were old enough to be alone for hours while others still didn’t let them near the stove.
“Yep.” Caroline looked sideways at her, eyes like those of an inquisitive deer. Curious but wary. A little afraid. She sat on her bed, and as her shoulders slumped, the teenager vanished and the little girl reappeared.
“Holly messaged. Said you found a dead body today.”
Anna stared at her. “Everyone knows everything around here.”
“Is that what you and Mom were fighting about?”
“I guess. Yeah, that started it.” We were fighting because I’m too old to be at home and we don’t know how to behave around each other anymore and we’re both exhausted is what Anna really wanted to say, but Caroline wasn’t going to get the nuance of that.
There were too many women in this house, going around in circles with each other. Bound by blood but divided by years.
“Was it horrible?”
“It wasn’t fun.”
“It was Lila Clarke’s boyfriend, wasn’t it?”
“If you know all the answers, why are you asking me?” Anna prickled.
“Is it my fault?” Caroline looked up at her, afraid.
“What do you mean?” The question threw Anna. “How could it be your fault?”
“I was talking about them. The two dead girls. I told you about the Farmhand and then you said it into the mirror. I wish you’d never said it, Anna. I wish you hadn’t. You’re scared he’s coming for you, aren’t you? That’s why you’ve gotten all funny about Lila and Bonnie.”
“Okay, stop there.” Caroline was so earnest and worried and Anna ached for the time when the biggest thing she was scared of herself had been nothing but stupid urban legends.
“Nothing’s your fault, Callie. And I told you before, that’s just a stupid creepy game.
Nothing’s going to happen.” She sat on the bed and the springs creaked like Grandma’s joints and one day even Caroline’s bones would.
“I was curious, that’s all. I’m always curious about mysteries, you know that.
And Jamie had some questions too, so we talked.
But then he died and I found him and it’s very sad, but nothing is your fault.
Okay? And the Farmhand doesn’t exist. Next time someone tries to scare you with it, ignore them.
If you weren’t such a chicken, I’d show you Candyman, and then you’d see. ”
“Okay.” Caroline nodded, although she wasn’t convinced. “I think they’ve all gone a bit crazy because of the anniversaries. Holly’s brother, Todd, says it’s just teenage hysteria, whatever that is. I told him that sounded sexist.”
“Good girl.” Anna laughed aloud. “Now come on, it’s nearly nine. Bedtime.”
“You should have had dinner with me and Grandma and Dr. Burdett,” Caroline said as Anna headed out into the corridor.
“He’s nice, you know. I like talking to him.
He’s good at tetherball too, even though his arthritis is bad.
And was showing me an ants’ nest at the bottom of the yard.
Telling me all about the colony. Ants are super clever. ”
Anna didn’t answer but called good night over her shoulder and closed Caroline’s door before heading to her own room.
She flopped onto her bed and opened the writing competition document on her laptop, her mind still turning over Jamie’s death.
The cards she found in Bonnie’s bedroom.
Maybe something, maybe nothing. If Jamie was right and Michael Cairns wasn’t the killer and the real killer was still loose in town and had murdered him, then how could she feel safe? How could she keep Caroline safe?
She looked at her title: Harper’s Creek: The Ripple Effects of Murders in a Small-Town Community.
It didn’t feel right anymore. Not after Jamie.
She chewed her bottom lip and then typed, A Murderer Among Us: Who Really Killed the Girls of Harper’s Creek?
That was better. Maybe they did get the right guy, but she’d take the curiosity baton from Jamie’s dead hand and see if it had all just been too easy for the police.
Maybe she’d even make a podcast out of it.
For the first time since the thing, she felt like she had a purpose.
She opened the yearbooks and began flicking through one of them from a year when both girls were in school, looking at the boys’ names and checking out their social media.
Most were now old before their time and married with kids or at least in serious relationships and tied into dull jobs.
Many had moved to the city or bigger towns, but none stood out as close with both girls.
It was hard to see any of them as a serial killer.
But then, Anna had listened to enough true crime to know that they were often impossible to spot.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from Melissa. Sounds like it’s been a day? You, me, The Shamrock, beer, now.
Her stomach rose, a sudden panic, sour bile burning her throat.
The Shamrock. A bar. She couldn’t, not on a Friday night.
All those men. The drinking. But how would she explain that to Melissa?
Melissa was her only friend—or close enough to one—that she had here.
She looked back at Caroline’s door. Her little sister was going to a party next week.
Mom was out on a date. Was Anna going to drift around this house like a ghost until she was Grandma’s age?
Maybe it was cognitive therapy she needed, to face some of her fears.
Could she do it? Of course she could. But would she?
She thought of Jamie’s dead body on the carpet.
Now cold on a morgue slab. He’d never hear music again.
He’d never drink a beer again. Dr. Burdett was here, so there was no reason she couldn’t leave.
Caroline and Grandma would be safe. At some point she was going to have to start to socialize again. And she’d be with Melissa.
Before she could change her mind, she ran quietly down the stairs, unplugged her scooter, and crept out of the house. She had to start coming back to life. She had to.