Chapter 29
Aubrey
AFTER THE ALIBI
I put my laptop on the driveway as I consider the best way to destroy it.
Or, more specifically, get rid of everything that connects me to Camille and Ben, which is a lot.
The anxiety I felt leaving the Rosary came back with a vengeance this morning.
Yesterday was mentally exhausting, so today I decided I’m tired of thinking about it and ready to do something about it, and protecting myself is the best thing I can do.
I don’t know much about computers, but I know erasing my search history doesn’t mean it goes away for good.
It seems like there is always a way to recover that data.
The cops have already been here once, so there’s a good chance they’ll be back. The laptop needs to go. I did one final search last night so I could assess just how screwed I was if Ben was killed while I was in St. Francisville and they showed up to ask me for my alibi.
For a rock-solid alibi, I would need to have proof that I wasn’t where the crime was committed, had no opportunity to commit the crime, and bonus points if I had no motive to commit the crime.
And the best proof comes in the form of credit card receipts, cell phone device location, vehicle location services, metadata from videos or pictures.
All of which I provided for Camille.
None of which I have for myself.
My phone sat untouched for twelve hours. I never considered what it would mean if it showed nothing. No movement. No activity. A complete dead zone. That in and of itself seems like a red flag.
Another form of proof that works is a witness who would testify they were with you when the crime was committed.
All the legal sites I visited actually consider this the weaker form of evidence, since the witness’s character comes into question, like whether they’re a reliable witness or have anything to gain from giving the alibi.
I have this.
Kinda.
My housemates were with me in the earlier part of the day but what they were helping me do wouldn’t make any of us look good.
Any of them, especially Deacon, would lie and say I was home that night, but since I basically live with a house full of criminals, I’m not sure anyone would believe them.
And I don’t want to drag them into this in any more than I already have.
I can show proof I visited Angola. But there’s a problem there too. First, Ben was still alive while I was there, so it doesn’t really help. Plus, given that I was there to visit Paul and who Paul was to me and what I believe Ben did, it only adds to motive for me, not alibi.
And then there’s the issue of Chantilly’s. Silas Everett was there too, and he would one hundred percent say he was there with Camille, not me.
I’m so screwed.
“You look like you’re up to no good.”
I spin around quickly and let out a squeak of surprise when I see Deacon standing a few feet behind me.
“You scared me!” I decide to ignore his comment.
He comes closer and now we’re both standing side by side, looking down at the laptop. “Do I even want to know what you’re doing right now?”
“I’m being proactive. I’ve been googling Ben ever since Camille showed up at Doug’s.
I even mapped his address and which bus would get me closest to their house before I decided to confront her outside her Junior League meeting.
So I’m going to destroy the laptop so no one ever knows.
You know, in case someone comes looking.
” We both know that “someone” would be the cops.
Deacon is quiet next to me. I’m expecting him to tell me this is another dumb idea, but he surprises me. “How are you thinking you want to do it?”
I let out a laugh. “What I’m thinking is about all the ways the internet says people mess up trying to destroy stuff like this. It’s harder than you think to get rid of everything on a computer. And now I’ve got that on my internet search history too.”
He crouches down and studies it like it’s some bomb ready to explode. “What if we lit it on fire?”
“I thought of that, but what I read said even if you burn it, there’s still a chance of partial recovery. We would have to incinerate it. Like they do dead bodies when they’re cremated.” I turn to look at him. “You know anyone in the funeral home business?”
Now it’s his turn to laugh. “No, sorry, can’t help you there. What about water?”
I shrug. “Some sites say there could be partial recovery there as well. Apparently, retrieval technology is badass. I don’t want to do anything where I risk partial recovery.
And before you say it, I know I’m overthinking this.
I should just go throw it in the river but I can’t.
That seems…too easy and therefore not good enough.
” I pause a moment, then add, “The only thing I found that seemed promising is to somehow shred the inner components, especially the hard drive, into itty-bitty pieces.”
He looks at me, giving me a crooked smile. “Then we’re going to need a big hammer.” Deacon gets up then turns around, walking to his vehicle while I follow behind him.
“Do I want to know why you have a big hammer in the back of your car?”
He shakes his head. “No, you probably don’t.”
Deacon opens the back door and I spot a large toolbox next to a black duffel bag.
“I probably don’t want to know what’s in that bag either,” I say.
He turns toward me. “You’re really thinking the worst of me today,” he says with a laugh. “I’m not driving around town collecting dead bodies.”
“I don’t know what you do!” I gesture to his overall physique. “But I do know you use this big body to scare the shit out of people and you know it too.”
Deacon chuckles…actually chuckles at my description of him. “Okay, fair.”
He grabs a hammer that’s about three times the size of a regular one and walks back to where the laptop is waiting.
“Oh, I can do it. I wouldn’t want you to be an accessory.”
Deacon rolls his eyes. “An accessory? To what? An extreme amount of internet searches?”
“It’s a thing,” I mutter, grabbing the end that he’s holding out to me. We’ve both got a grip on it for a few seconds before he lets go. The hammer immediately falls to the ground, taking me with it.
And there’s that chuckle again. “You’ll end up hurting yourself if you try to swing this as many times as you’ll need to if you want that laptop in…what’d you say? Itty-bitty pieces?”
Leaving the hammer on the ground, I get up and brush the dirt off the hand that caught my fall. “You could’ve just said it was heavy.”
Not going to lie, it’s impressive watching Deacon completely destroy my laptop.
We end up triple-bagging it in those thick, black trash bags so the pieces are contained.
He’s just started working up a sweat when he lifts the bag to give it a good shake.
Hearing all those pieces rattle around makes me relax for the first time in days.
“Now what?” he asks.
“I was thinking I could sprinkle them in different trash cans around town.”
The look he’s giving me lets me know he’s done humoring me. “How about we chuck it in the river. Let it wash away into the Gulf.”
“Okay, yeah, that works too.”
Dumping what was left of my laptop into the river is a bit anticlimactic, and I realize I could have thrown the thing in there whole and it would have disappeared all the same. So without overthinking it, I throw my phone in just as the last piece of laptop sinks under the water.
After we leave the riverfront, Deacon stops by the store and I grab a new phone. I really don’t have the money for it but there’s no way I can get by without one.
As we pull out of the lot, I turn to Deacon. “Can we make a stop before heading back to the house?”
Deacon and I pull through the gates and slowly make our way down the narrow, meandering lane, taking us deeper into the property, until we come to a dead end.
“Is this it?” Deacon asks.
“Yeah.”
He puts the car in park. “Want me to wait here or come with you?” He hands me the flowers we just picked up from the grocery store.
“Wait here if that’s okay. I won’t be long.” I take the flowers, then jump out before my mind lingers on how good he’s been to me over the last few days. Even more so than normal.
I’ve been on edge all week and I know there is one thing I can do that might make me feel a little better.
The sun casts a gentle golden glow through the clouds, and a crisp breeze blows across the lawn and through the tree limbs, making them sway.
I follow the sidewalk until it ends then step carefully through the grass.
The bench is shaded by a lone pecan tree on the other side of the fence.
I clear away the leaves and bits of shells and sticks before sitting.
There are prettier headstones and bigger headstones in this cemetery, but I think Mom and Dad have the best spot.
They are in the very back, surrounded by others on three sides instead of four.
I don’t know why that feels important, but it does.
Also, for most of the day they are protected from the elements.
These branches seem to stretch further on this side of the fence, as if they know how special my parents were and deserve to be protected from the harsh sun when it is at its highest.
“I was going to wait until I knew the truth, one way or another, before coming back, but I’m scared that’s never going to happen now,” I whisper to them, holding the bouquet close.
The only response is the rattle of the cicadas in the limbs above me.
“I’m not giving up, but it may take a bit longer to get the answers we all deserve. I thought I had a good plan, but I just threw my laptop in the Mississippi River, piece by piece, so I guess I need a new plan.” My quiet laugh is swept away by the gentle breeze.
I push off the bench and sit cross-legged in the grass at the base of their headstones, right between them. Needing to be closer. I bury my face against the soft petals and drag in a deep breath. The fragrance of my childhood. Roses were my mom’s favorite.
I pull one free from the bunch and set it in front of Dad’s tombstone before laying the rest in front of Mom’s, then I put a hand on each granite slab.
“I can’t believe you’ve been gone for ten years,” I whisper, my voice catching as I try unsuccessfully to stop the tears.
I trace the numbers on Dad’s tombstone marking the day they died, him only an hour after Mom, and wonder for the millionth time if things would have ended differently had I been with them.
My parents had gone to Corbeau to attend the wedding of a distant cousin. I was supposed to have gone with them but they let me skip when I got invited to a concert in New Orleans with my friend and her family on the same night.
Ten years since another car ran a stop sign and T-boned my parents’ car, changing my world forever.
On that dark, empty road, that driver made a choice.
They left. Fled the scene. No call for help even though later reports showed my dad didn’t die instantly.
Could he have been saved if he had gotten immediate medical attention?
Not knowing the answer to that question has haunted me for a decade.
But my desperation to learn the truth may be my downfall. Maybe I should have left well enough alone and not chased Camille down, insisting she work with me.
I made the decision to use Camille to get to Ben when I approached her outside her Junior League meeting instead of letting this go, so it wouldn’t be hard for someone to believe I did that so I could kill him in revenge.
A hand lands on my shoulder, making me jump.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been calling your name.” It’s Deacon. He’s crouched in the grass behind me. “I was getting a little worried since you’ve been out here so long. You okay?”
Brushing the tears away, I say, “Sorry, got lost in my head a bit.”
He gets up, moving away. “There’s no rush. Take all the time you need. Just wanted to check on you.”
I get up. “No, I’m ready. I’ve got to be at the bar soon so it’s time to go.”
I run a hand across the top of each headstone. “This may have been a setback, but I promise I’ll find out what really happened to y’all that night.”