AS SOON AS we rounded the corner onto Main Street in Dex’s car, I heard insistent honking and the jumbled voices of a crowd, two things that were completely out of place on an early summer afternoon in Bone Lake.
Once we parked, the source of the commotion became clear. Three large vans bearing the logos of various news stations were parked along the sides of the street, in one case blocking off access to the community bank. A crowd was gathered in front of the police station. I recognized a few of them as the parents of kids I’d gone to school with: Mrs. Chidester, who used to babysit me, and Mr. Harlan, who owned the shooting range. Hector was there, and Mrs. Anderson. Some people I recognized from the bonfire a few nights before were there too, though I didn’t see Micah anywhere. I felt a small pang as I imagined what he must be feeling right now. I hoped he wasn’t alone.
I stood up on my toes to try to see above the heads in the crowd, on the lookout for the sheriff. Instead, my eyes were drawn to a middle-aged woman being propped up by a tall, stoic-looking man. The couple stood near the post office, a bit away from the fray in front of the police station. The woman’s face was distorted, her mouth open wide as if she were wailing, though she was making no sound. Her hands clutched at the shirt of the man next to her, then fell to her sides, useless. It took me a moment to recognize them.
Cassidy Jones’s parents.
Dex was also looking at the couple, his mouth drawn into a thin line. I tried to think of something to say, but came up with nothing.
“Let’s go around,” Dex finally said.
But I couldn’t look away from Mrs. Jones, who had the same freckles as her daughter. I barely knew her, but Cassidy had had a life. Family, school, boyfriend. A favorite TV show, drama with her friends, unopened snaps on her phone.
Plans for the future.
And now all that was gone, wiped out forever. I pulled my eyes away and followed Dex to the alley next to the police station. We didn’t get more than a few feet before a shrill voice yelled, “She’s here! That’s who found them!”
I turned to see Emily Jennings standing on the sidewalk, her brown bob shining in the sunlight, one long arm outstretched and pointing straight at me. So many heads swiveled in my direction, all at once.
A woman in a lime-green blouse with a microphone clenched in her fist reached me first. Her expression was one of concern but also of interest, and as she raised the microphone up to her mouth I realized I was looking into the face of the woman I wanted to be someday.
So I only minded a little when her first words were, “Is it true? Did you find the bodies?”
Dex reached out and pulled on my sleeve, looking a bit shell-shocked as the cameras surrounded us, pinning us in place. But they were just doing a job. As hard and uncomfortable as it might be, they just wanted to get to the truth. And I could help them with that.
I straightened my shoulders. “Yes. It’s true.”
“What’s your name?” The woman asked. The microphone in her hand read WKBM News.
“Penny Hardjoy.”
I heard a snicker from my right, and looked up to see Reese standing by Emily. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me watching her, and she mouthed, attention whore.
I turned back to the woman in the lime-green shirt, swallowing hard.
“Can you tell us a little bit about what you found? Were the bodies recognizable?”
“That’s enough,” a voice cut through the crowd. I looked up to see the sheriff pushing his way over to me. “This girl’s a witness in an ongoing investigation. And a minor.”
He didn’t wait for the journalist to respond, instead putting one hand on my shoulder and leading me through the crowd, away from the cameras.
“You should get on home, Penny,” he said, low and into my ear.
“I came to talk to you, Sheriff. It’s important.”
He gave a terse nod. “Go on and wait inside. I’ll just be a moment.” Then he walked to the front of the station, facing the entire crowd. The camera lenses followed him like moths following a light.
Instead of going inside the building, I moved a bit into the shadows near the side door, where I could hear whatever the sheriff was going to say. Dex silently moved to stand next to me.
The sheriff cleared his throat. “Good morning. The Charlevoix County Sheriff’s Office, along with the Bone Lake PD, is prepared to issue a statement on the two bodies found last night near North Lake. We have identified the remains as those belonging to seventeen-year-old Bryan Ryder and sixteen-year-old Cassidy Jones.”
A murmur ran through the crowd, even though it didn’t seem like this could be a surprise to anyone at this point.
“Do you know how they died?” the woman in the lime-green blouse asked, pushing her microphone forward.
“How long have they been dead?” a man next to her asked.
“I will not be answering questions at this time,” the sheriff continued. “But I will conclude my statement by saying foul play is suspected. We also suspect that these two deaths might be connected to that of John Forrest, the hiker who was found near Raskers’ Field in February. While we have no main suspect at this time, we are searching for a person of interest named Ike Hardjoy, a Bone Lake native who disappeared shortly after Bryan and Cassidy went missing. If you have any leads on Hardjoy’s whereabouts, please direct them to the sheriff’s office. Thank you.”
The sheriff moved quickly away from the crowd of reporters, back toward the front door of the station. My own feet felt like lead.
“Person of interest?” Dex asked, his eyebrows furrowed. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I whispered, my throat going tight. “He thinks my dad’s the killer.”