Chapter 41 Kaitlyn
Kaitlyn
Everyone looks at Mr. McCullough as he freezes, eyes flaring impossibly wide in the light of his flashlight.
I’ve seen McCullough look like he’s been caught before, like when he’s forgotten the answers to one of his own questions or when he pulls up the wrong presentation during class.
But this goes further. This look…It’s fear; it’s shame; it’s… guilt.
“Now, hang on,” Mr. McCullough says, shaking his head as he looks between all of us. “Kaitlyn, what are you saying? You can’t possibly think—”
“I don’t think,” Marlene says, her usually shaky voice stronger than I’ve ever heard it before. “You were out there. I saw you. You were nowhere near the Death Van.”
I stare at Mr. McCullough, watching as he continues to pale in the sliver of moonlight sneaking through the window.
He holds open his hands as if he’s selling wares or offering a hug—but no one in the room seems receptive.
He looks at me, trying to pull off his usual amiable bullshit, but when I cross my arms and glare back at him, his jaw begins to twitch.
“Where’s Ms. Dorman?” Mr. McCullough asks, looking past us. “I need to talk to her.”
Marlene scoffs. “You need to talk to her? You’re probably the one who concussed her!”
“She’s concussed?” Mr. McCullough asks, looking over Marlene’s shoulder. He must spot Ms. Dorman on the couch, because he rushes to her side and drops to his knees next to her.
“What happened to her?” Mr. McCullough asks, touching Ms. Dorman’s wrist and giving her shoulder a soft shake. “Christine, can you hear me?”
“You should know,” Marlene says. “You attacked her. You—”
“When was she attacked?” Caulder asks, making Avery jump. She hadn’t realized that he’s inched his way closer to her and is now right at her shoulder. He’s radiating that protective energy…which he never gave to me. But Javi did. Javi would’ve done anything to protect me. And now he’s gone.
“Oh, five minutes ago? Maybe a little more?” Avery answers, worrying her cuticles again. “No more than ten minutes.”
Caulder shakes his head. “Then he didn’t attack Ms. Dorman. He was with me.”
I glance at Marlene, who still looks uncertain.
“I’m not saying he didn’t lie about where he was earlier,” Caulder says quickly. “Just that he didn’t get Dorman.”
“Well, depending on when and where he was, he might’ve tried to get me,” Marlene says. “Someone attacked me outside. I couldn’t make out their face, but if he’s lying, that might be why.”
“Excuse me?” Mr. McCullough says. “Marlene, that’s a serious accusation. I would never—”
“Then prove it,” she says. There’s practically steam rolling off of her as she glowers at McCullough.
“Marlene, what’re you talking about?” Avery asks, her voice gentle but firm. “Walk us through it.”
“It was dark and raining, so I could barely see,” Marlene says, never once taking her eyes off Mr. McCullough. “I was terrified. Everyone ran in different directions, and I…I got lost almost immediately.”
She casts a glance in my direction, and I don’t miss the implication. I was supposed to be the leader. I was supposed to follow the plan. Well, too bad. But we all made our choices, didn’t we?
“I heard screaming,” Marlene continues.
She shivers, and Avery pulls one of the blankets off a nearby chair and hands it to her. Marlene wraps it around her shoulders, hands tightening on it as she rubs the fabric with her thumbs. The kind of fidgeting Mom would never allow me to do.
“I didn’t know who it was,” Marlene continues. “I couldn’t tell because it was so dark. But I tried to go in the direction of it, even though I was terrified. I just knew…I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t try to help.”
Her gaze flicks to Avery and then back down to the floor.
“Before I could find whoever was screaming, though, I saw someone,” she says. “The person who attacked us, I assumed. And now that I think about it, he looked an awful lot like you.”
“Marlene—” Mr. McCullough starts, but she cuts him off.
“He was stumbling through the woods,” she says, eyes narrowing.
“I was trying to figure out who it was, thinking maybe it was Javi or Emerson. And then he heard me, and he ran toward me and grabbed me by the shoulders.” Tears spring to her eyes.
“I struggled to get away. They wouldn’t let me go.
I thought they were going to kill me—and you would’ve, wouldn’t you, Mr. McCullough? ”
“No!” Mr. McCullough shouts, his voice louder as it bounces off the walls. He steps forward, away from Ms. Dorman and toward Marlene, but Caulder steps in front of Marlene this time.
“Marlene, that never happened,” Mr. McCullough says, and there’s no denying the anger in his voice now. “I understand we’re all scared, but you can’t just be telling tales—”
“You tried to hold me down and stab me!” Marlene shouts back, voice catching near the end as she trembles. “I only got away because I was able to get out of my jacket.”
“This is insanity,” Mr. McCullough says. “I was nowhere near you. Now, if we can just get Christine to wake up, she can corroborate this.”
“Where were you, then?” I ask, keeping my arms crossed as I lift my chin. “Seems convenient that someone who’s currently concussed is your only alibi.”
Mr. McCullough glares at me. “I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything to Marlene.
I was with Ms. Dorman; then I came here and found Avery and Caulder and you, and then I left, and Caulder and I found Emerson.
I didn’t even have the time to do what she’s describing.
Marlene, I’m sorry,” Mr. McCullough says. “But this is simply impossible.”
“So you’re saying I wasn’t attacked?”
“I’m saying,” Mr. McCullough says carefully, “that someone might have attacked you, but it wasn’t me.”
Marlene’s tears fall as heavy drops onto her shirt. She lets the blanket drop and buries her face in her hands, shivering. When no one moves, I surprise everyone in the room by going to her and putting my arm around her, pulling her in her close, and she turns and sobs against me.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “We’re all right.”
“Not with him here,” she whispers back.
I look back at Caulder, searching his eyes. The golden boy, our fearless leader. What will he have us do now? He’ll probably say that Mr. McCullough is our teacher…But he and I both know that teachers have done terrible things to students.
Still, Mr. McCullough doesn’t exactly cut a foreboding image.
I keep thinking of him at his desk, popping peanut butter–filled pretzels into his mouth while quizzing us on debate theory.
I think of him leaning against the wall in the hallway and telling us all to “be careful out there” as we head to class. He’s so…unremarkable.
But then again, like Ms. Dorman, he brought a monster into our world when he recruited Mr. Jay to help coach this team. At a minimum, he’s ignorant. At worst, he enabled a predator.
“You said he stabbed you,” Caulder says, watching the rest of us before slowly sliding his eyes in Marlene’s direction.
She sniffs. “He tried to.”
“Did he cut you?” Caulder asks.
Marlene shakes her head. “Not much.”
She holds up her arms, and we all look at them expectantly.
Her face has a few scratches, but the same kind I have, little ones made by the trees.
But the struggle Marlene’s describing—if there was a knife involved and a bloody jacket left behind—would leave evidence, wouldn’t it? And yet, her arms are mostly bare.
“I fought back,” she says, sounding proud. “I got away before he could do anything really bad.”
Caulder blinks, something in his face shifting. It’s impossible to explain. Is it confusion? He turns to Marlene.
“We found your jacket,” Caulder says, talking to Marlene but keeping his eyes on McCullough.
“You see?” Marlene sobs.
She continues to sniffle against me, but I watch Caulder. Something about his expression…What is he thinking?
“What happened to the knife?” Caulder asks.
Marlene’s eyes widen slightly, as if she’s caught off guard by the question. “The knife?”
“The knife?” Caulder asks. “That he tried to stab you with.”
Marlene blinks. “I don’t…I don’t know. It all happened so fast.”
“I never had a knife!” Mr. McCullough says, his voice taking on a frantic, exasperated tone. “Why would I have left with a knife?”
Marlene’s face has paled.
“He must have taken the one Javi had,” she says, realization dawning. “The one from…from when I stabbed Emerson. Emerson must’ve dropped it.”
Caulder blinks between them before speaking. “You’re saying he picked up that knife…by chance?”
Marlene chokes on another sob, more tears. “I don’t know, okay? I am trying to help you, Caulder. I am trying to save you. Don’t you see that?”
Caulder winces like he’s been struck. I see the pain cross over his features, not completely erasing whatever unreadable emotion was there before, but coming close to it.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just trying to sort this out.”
“Let’s all take a breath,” Avery says. “Let’s get everything on the table—”
“Yeah,” I say, tone cold. “Starting with where the fuck these two were and why he won’t tell us.”
There’s a groan from the couch, and we all whip around to see Ms. Dorman stirring. Mr. McCullough drops down next to her, putting his hand on her forehead. She winces, eyes not opening, but there’s more life in her than there was a few minutes ago.
“I also think we should all empty our pockets,” I continue, ignoring Dorman. “Make sure no one’s hiding pointy little secrets.”
“Fine,” Caulder says, immediately pulling a dead phone out of his pocket and setting it on the coffee table. Then he goes to the other and pulls out a slim black wallet that’s engraved with his initials. He pulls out the remaining front pockets, white flags showing their emptiness.
Avery goes next, pulling out her phone. Then me, and I’ve just got gum, my phone, and a hair tie. Then Marlene, who has nothing, not even her phone, which she says she dropped somewhere out in the woods.
“When I was being attacked,” she says pointedly, glaring in Mr. McCullough’s direction.
But Mr. McCullough isn’t listening. He’s stroking Ms. Dorman’s forehead, talking to her in a low voice. He seems oblivious to the rest of us. I notice her eyes twitch, that her lips part.
“Hey, asshole,” I call. “Empty your pockets.”
Mr. McCullough realizes I’m addressing him, and when he looks back at me, hatred has transformed his face. Good. The feeling’s mutual.
“We’re going to have to have a serious conversation about your behavior, Kaitlyn,” he says. “I’ll be speaking to your volleyball coach.”
“Try it,” I say. “Now empty your pockets.”
Mr. McCullough’s gaze stays pinned on Ms. Dorman as he stands. He digs into his pockets, pulling out a fat, battered leather wallet, his Coastal Canyon lanyard attached to a handful of keys, his phone, and—
“Shit,” he says as he drops a handful of plastic onto the table, the red blooming across his cheeks.
“Are those condoms?” I practically shout.
“Why do you have those?” Marlene asks, the disgust as evident in her words as it is in my thoughts. “That’s sick.”
“There’s nothing wrong with safe sex,” Mr. McCullough says defensively. “I am an adult.”
“Yeah,” I say, realization dawning. “But who were you planning on sleeping with on the school trip that you’re chaperoning? You know, with underage minors?”
Now, Mr. McCullough’s cheeks don’t just bloom with red. They explode, the color taking over all of his face. He starts to speak, coughs, and tries to speak again.
Because everyone realizes what I’m actually asking. And maybe I’m a bitch for asking, but he’s the one who planned a hookup during a fucking school trip.
“That’s not—that’s not what happened,” he says. “That wasn’t, no, of course not. You’re children. Never. I—”
“Jesus Christ, Gerard,” Ms. Dorman says, her voice a hoarse rattle as she struggles to sit up. “Just tell them the truth.”
His head whips around, and the rest of us look, too. She has one hand on her forehead, wincing, but her eyes are open. She looks at each of us, then closes her eyes again.
“Fucking hell,” she says.
It pisses me off, honestly, to hear this woman swear. Ms. Dorman, who’s up my ass whenever I curse. Dorman, the woman who never saw a turtleneck or a cardigan that she didn’t immediately purchase.
“But, Christine, we said—”
“They’re accusing you of murder and possibly statutory rape, Gerard,” she says, eyes finally opening completely and staying fixed on him. “I think the truth is preferable.”
But he doesn’t answer. His mouth just opens and closes like a fish gasping for air.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Ms. Dorman says, and looks in our direction. “The condoms are for me. We were…together, out in the woods.”
I look at Avery and shake my head. Of course that’s where they were. Meanwhile, Marlene looks horrified as she walks toward the door, shaking her head in disbelief. And Caulder…Well, Caulder just looks uncomfortable.
“There was a literal murderer chopping up your students,” I say, every syllable coated in disdain. “And you two were fucking in the woods?”
“Of course not,” Ms. Dorman says, running a hand through her tangled hair.
“We didn’t get that far with the storm. But I assure you, Mr. McCullough couldn’t have harmed Marlene or Jay or anyone else.
I was with him the entire time until we got back here and he went to look for you all.
And he was only gone for a short time, right around the property—”
“Really?” Marlene asks, her voice cold. “Then you knew he had this?”
We turn to her, to where she’s stopped by the door and is standing next to the jacket Mr. McCullough hung up. She’s pulling something from inside the folds of the fabric. A knife sheath, I realize. And in that sheath…
Marlene pulls the knife free, long and sharp.
And covered in blood.