Thornbird

Chapter Twenty-Two Nothing Will Bring Her Back

twenty-two

Nothing Will Bring Her Back

Jasmine follows through on her threat. She’s back on the case. With a vengeance.

After cheerleading practice on Thursday, she cancels her plans with Nikki and Gillian and announces we’re spending the night coming up with a solid location list.

Now we’re in our room, and she taps the screen, pulling up a map of Starling and its outskirts. “The lake or the woods,” she says, all business, “aka two massive areas that we’ll never be able to search completely. But that old lumberyard, the one outside of town? What if they’re there?”

My heart skips a beat. I remember the lumberyard. My father used to go there all the time. He was friendly with the guy who ran the place. One of the only townspeople he could tolerate.

“You’ve read up on the case, right?” She’s oblivious to my racing thoughts.

“Some,” I say with a shrug.

“So I’m sure you heard the lumberman theory.”

“Something about the bodies being thrown into a wood chipper?”

“Uncle Psycho said in his confession that he didn’t have an accomplice, but people still think John Ellerbee could’ve been working with him. Ellerbee owned the lumberyard.”

“If there was any truth to that, the cops would have found a solid connection.”

“Ellerbee was basically run out of town,” she says.

I feel another pang of guilt. Just another person whose life was ruined by Gabriel Thorn. If Ellerbee is innocent—which I assume he is, because my father wasn’t a team player—then his reputation was destroyed because of this case. His only crime was being nice to my dad.

“He sold the yard and eventually it closed down. It’s been abandoned for the past few years.

Honestly, I think it makes more sense than the lake—Uncle Psycho would’ve had to anticipate that they would drag it, send divers there.

Or the woods, because animals are always digging things up.

They would’ve dug up any fresh graves. But the lumberyard…

” Her eyes gleam. “It’s secluded, no one really goes there anymore, and yes, there was totally a wood chipper.

If you were trying to get rid of a body, that’d be the perfect place. ”

My stomach churns. Did he really do that? Could he have?

“There had to be something left behind, right? I don’t care how powerful that machine is. Bones don’t just disappear. And if not bones, then maybe jewelry or something. Personal belongings. Something the cops missed when they searched Ellerbee’s house.”

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “You really think he would’ve done that?”

Jasmine doesn’t hear the fear in my voice, or if she does, she doesn’t care. She’s too caught up in her theory.

“Oh, for sure. Whoever did this had to be smart enough to hide the bodies where no one would look. Or where they wouldn’t think to check again. The lumberyard’s perfect.” She snaps her laptop shut. “I think we should go there. Saturday. After curfew.”

“What?” The word comes out sharper than I intended. “That’s a terrible idea.”

She waves me off, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on. No one’s gonna be there. It’s abandoned. We sneak in, look around, and see if we can find anything. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I stare at her. “You seriously can’t be considering this. What if we get caught trespassing? What if—”

I cut myself off before I can say anything about the danger that feels far more personal. What if we find something? What if we find exactly what you’re looking for?

Jasmine’s eyes narrow. “We deserve that reward money. That psycho destroyed our family’s reputation.

For a while people even thought my mom or dad had something to do with it.

Some people still think it. I see it online all the time.

People saying that the Shipleys were connected to those murders.

Well, like it or not, you’re a Shipley too. ”

Worse. I’m a Thorn.

“Just because you’re new here doesn’t make you less of a Shipley. They’ve ruined us. And we deserve to get something out of this.”

The guilt slams into me like a wave, crashing and relentless. Jasmine doesn’t know the truth. I’m the one who ruined her. My father did this to her. He’s the reason those families don’t have closure. The reason we’re even having this conversation. But I can’t say that. I can’t tell her.

Instead, I do the only thing I can think of. I shake my head, trying to sound like the voice of reason. “Jaz, I get that you want the money, but this is dangerous. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

She scoffs. “Dangerous? Please. It’s an old lumberyard, not a haunted house.

You’re being paranoid. And if we don’t do it now, someone else is gonna beat us to it.

Ty and Kab are on the case now. Kab, yeah, he’s dumb as a bag of rocks.

But Ty is smart. What if he figures this out?

Or these new true-crime losers who are showing up for the ten-year anniversary next week? Everyone’s desperate for that reward.”

She’s not going to let this go. That much is obvious. And if I refuse to help her, she’ll go alone. Jasmine’s reckless. She’ll walk into the middle of a storm and never realize it’s raining.

I can’t let her do this by herself.

“Fine,” I relent. “I’ll go with you. But only to keep an eye on things. If anything looks off, we’re leaving. Got it?”

Jasmine flashes a triumphant grin. “Deal.”

I sink onto my bed, wanting to kick myself for agreeing to this. We’re walking into a nightmare, and I’m the only one who knows just how dark it really is.

Connor wanders in. “Yo. Ryan.”

Jasmine gives me a look that says Don’t tell him. Her twin, thanks to his association with the dastardly Kab, has now been cut out of the loop.

“What’s up?” I ask him.

“You heard from Everett?”

“No, why?”

“He bailed on practice, and he’s not answering anyone’s texts. I called him like three times.”

Jasmine’s eyebrows fly up. “Really?” She grabs her phone. “I’ll text Nikki. Maybe she knows where he is.”

“We have our first playoff game tomorrow,” Connor says grimly. “This isn’t like him. Coach was pissed.”

He’s right. This isn’t like Everett. Football is his life. He works hard. Waking up early to run the trail, then school, then practice, then another run when he gets home. He wouldn’t bail on practice before an important game unless it was serious.

Or unless some new girl in town crushed his heart to dust.

Jasmine’s phone chimes. She checks the screen and reports back, “Nik says he’s at home.”

Connor’s cheeks hollow as he grits his teeth. “Okay, I guess it’s good he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere. But he still screwed us big-time today. He better be at that game tomorrow.”

It worries me enough that I find myself lacing up my boots.

I grab a jacket in the mudroom and duck out before anyone can ask where I’m going.

Some people might be scared of traversing the woods in the dark, and despite the inkling in the back of my mind that I might get eaten by a bear, I don’t feel much fear as I make my way toward Everett’s house.

I walk up the long drive. The house is all lit up. I hear barking from inside and from the separate building next door. The kennels.

“Ryan?”

I turn away from the porch and spot Everett on the lawn, stepping out of the shadows. He’s with Bella, the senior golden. At the sight of me, the dog pads over to nudge my hand with her nose.

“Hey, girl,” I murmur, crouching down to pet her. I scratch her soft ears as I peer up at Everett. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

His expression is gloomy. Very un-Everett-like. At school, he’s the charming, happy-go-lucky football player, so it’s weird seeing him so stone-faced, his broad shoulders sagging, his demeanor prickly.

“I heard you missed practice. I was worried.”

He crosses his arms. “Since when do you care if I go to practice?”

His rudeness stings, and for a second I’m tempted to retreat, to give some throwaway answer and leave. But he deserves more than that.

“You have a scholarship,” I remind him. “If missing practice jeopardizes that…”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Right. Can’t let the golden boy slip up.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I missed one practice. No one’s gonna care.”

“Everett.” I give Bella one last pat before straightening. “You’ve worked so hard. Don’t let what I did mess that up. You’re better than that.”

Lips flattening, he dismisses me from his gaze, turning to stride across the lawn. He whistles softly for Bella. The dog follows him eagerly, as if she’s happy to get another walk in before bedtime.

I hurry after them. Annoyed. I get that he’s upset I ended things, but he doesn’t have to be a dick about it.

“Everett, come on, wait.”

The grass is browning from the fall chill, crunching beneath my boots. He glances over his shoulder as we near the edge of the lawn, passing the stone firepit.

“Why are you really here, Ryan?”

“I told you, I wanted to make sure you were okay. I don’t want you blowing off practice and screwing up your life because I—”

He interrupts with a laugh. “You think it was because of you?”

I blink.

“That I’ve been sitting alone pining for Ryan Shipley, unable to throw a pass without bursting into tears over you?”

I feel stupid now.

“I skipped practice because this asshole reporter was hanging around.”

I wrinkle my brow. “What reporter?”

“I don’t know. A journalist from some big magazine. There’s always someone new showing up to ask questions and stick their nose into things.” He makes a derisive sound. “She’s writing a ten-year anniversary feature and wants to interview everyone connected to the case. Ambushed me after school.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize journalists were hounding you at school.”

“They always are. Same with all those true-crime fanatics. They used to show up at the house too until Nikki sicced the dogs on them one time.” He snorts. “Now they know not to trespass.”

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t even think about how awful it would be for the James family.

“Those vultures have no shame,” Everett says, shaking his head. “Looking for the bodies. Treating it like it’s some goddamn sport instead of people’s lives.”

I nod. I don’t tell him that’s exactly how I feel.

“They keep digging and digging, bringing everything back up again. Meanwhile I just want to forget it. My mother’s dead. Nothing will bring her back.”

He veers off the grass toward the mouth of the trail that disappears into the trees. I follow him despite myself. I should go home and not engage in this. My father is the reason Everett deals with these nosy people on a constant basis. But I can’t help myself.

We approach a clearing with a few trees and a wrought iron bench that faces a small well. And not a fake decorative gingerbread well like the one outside the Shipley house. This one is ancient stone, with a rusting bucket, the real thing.

Everett slumps down onto the bench, hands on the tops of his thighs.

“This was my mom and sister’s favorite place,” he reveals, nodding at the well.

“They used to sit out here and do their nails. Mom’s favorite shade was this obnoxious, superbright red.

She painted Nikki’s nails too, and some of the kindergarten moms complained to the teacher that their daughters kept coming home begging for manicures. ”

I laugh, picturing tiny terror Nikki showing off her little red fingernails at school.

“The three of us came here to make wishes. We’d throw coins in, although this one time”—he chuckles under his breath—“when Nikki was four or five, Mom didn’t have any spare change, so Nikki was like I have an idea.

She ran into the house and grabbed a few twenties from Dad’s wallet.

She had no concept of dollar amounts, just thought we needed money to throw in.

Sixty dollars, down the well, all so Nikki could wish for a new Barbie. ”

“That’s an expensive Barbie.”

“Sometimes I come here to feel close to her.” He sighs. “To forget about the shit show that is my life.”

I want to reach for his hand, but I’m afraid it will send the wrong message. I can be Everett’s friend, but nothing more. Not when this secret hangs between us.

“Is it really that bad?” I ask quietly.

He snorts. “Bad is an understatement. My mother’s dead. My father cares more about showering affection on his dogs than his kids. Nikki’s a mess. I just found out she’s sleeping with some loser from Brice to score drugs. So, yes, shit show is the accurate term.”

“Has your sister always acted out this way, or did it start recently?”

“Always. Or at least once she entered puberty. Dad says it’s because she doesn’t have a maternal figure.

” He pauses, absently reaching down to rub Bella’s head.

She sits at his feet, her eyes sleepy. “Sometimes I hear Nikki talking to her. To Mom, I mean. When she thinks no one is around. I talk to her too.”

I think of the photograph I saw of the two of them at their mother’s funeral. Just little kids, no more than seven years old.

A short silence falls.

Then he breaks it. “So, what, you’re really just friend-zoning me?” He sounds a bit amazed, as if it’s unheard of that someone might actually do that.

I hesitate before dipping my head in a nod. “Yeah.”

“For now or forever?”

“I don’t know.”

“You know what?” His voice takes on a determined note. “I’m going to take you at your word. You said it was moving too fast, right? That’s why you ended it?”

Why did I have to give that excuse?

Because the truth wasn’t an option.

“Then, fine,” Everett finishes. “We can focus on the friendship for a while. Whatever you want. Just don’t shut me out. All right?”

I don’t say anything at first. I don’t tell him that even slow is too fast. I can’t tell him I understand what it’s like to have a mother taken away—brutally murdered—at the age I needed her most. To cry for that type of love, to search for something to fill that hole but never find it.

I can’t leave the door open, even a tiny bit, without wanting to fling it wide.

“I have to go,” I say, rising to my feet.

I try to edge away from him, but he gets up too. His hand reaches out, warm and solid as his fingers wrap around mine. “Night, Ryan,” he says, squeezing my hand.

“Night,” I murmur before hurrying off.

It isn’t until I’ve reached the end of the driveway that I become aware of my phone vibrating in my pocket.

I fish it out to discover that my aunt has been trying to reach me. Frantically. Three missed calls. One text message that ignites a spark of fear.

Maggie: You need to come home NOW.