After leaving the cabin, Blake and I dropped the bloodstained packet off to an amused Wright at the police station and then went back to Blake’s house. The second we stepped through the door, I could tell he wanted nothing more than to leave again. He walked slowly into the living room. His mum sat in the same chair where she had spent Josh’s entire wake. The TV was on, but she didn’t seem to be watching it. She stared into space, not moving at all. I could only tell she was alive by the rise and fall of her chest.
“Hi, Eloise,” I said to the statue of his mum. She didn’t even blink. I looked to Blake for help.
He shook his head discreetly, his lips thinning. I guessed this empty shell was normal for her now. “Let’s go up to my room,” he said.
I took a quick glance back at his mom as I followed Blake out of the room. Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken. Her hair was slick with grease and tied into a messy ponytail on top of her head. She looked as if she had checked out days ago and just left her body behind.
“Is she OK?” I asked as we reached the top of the stairs and were out of her way, not that she would have acknowledged she’d heard me if I had asked him right in front of her.
“Not really.” He pushed the door open and nodded, gesturing for me to go in first.
Wow, he can be a gentleman.
His room was plain and bare. A dull light blue covered the walls, and there was nothing hanging from them to personalize it. The only furniture was a double bed, bedside table, and wardrobe. A flat-screen TV hung from the wall opposite the bed, but it looked old, probably secondhand from when they’d replaced another one in the house. I imagined Eloise buying a new one for the lounge and saying, Oh, we can put the old one in Blake’s room. His bedroom reminded me of a cheap hotel room.
“I’ve never spent much time here,” he explained.
“It’s fine.” I wasn’t sure why he felt he had to explain it to me. I didn’t care how it looked. “Have you heard from Wright?”
“Nope, but that’s hardly surprising since it’s been two minutes.”
I sat down on the bed. “All right, I’m impatient!”
“Please, make yourself at home,” he said playfully, teasing me. “He does that on purpose, I think.”
“What, not contacting us?”
He plopped down on the bed, making me bounce. “Yeah. You’d think he would be on our case twenty-four seven, so he’s not. Whatever we expect, he does the opposite.”
“Ah, to mess with us. He doesn’t seem like a proper detective.”
“I dunno”—he shrugged—“I’d probably be cocky and arrogant if I were a detective.”
I snorted, and he rolled his eyes—if he were a detective my arse.
“Moving on,” he snapped, amusement clear in his eyes. “What fun activities do you have for us now? Digging up graves? Sifting through sewers?”
“Why don’t you suggest some options if you don’t like what I’m doing?” I could’ve used the help.
“We could talk to Tilly’s dad. You know, maybe something he says will tell us more than looking through people’s rubbish.”
He absentmindedly reached over and stroked the back of my hand with his thumb as he spoke. I wasn’t sure if he realized how he was making me feel, but I liked it way too much. Every touch had me feeling like I was falling. I wasn’t sure if I was falling for him or about to fall because of him. At that point, it could have been either.
“I found blood, didn’t I?” I replied, my voice wavering while I tried to keep my hormones in check.
“Probably from a half-dead animal, but whatever.”
“We’ll see. Wright is going to have it tested.”
“I thought he would laugh in our faces and tell us to leave.”
He didn’t laugh, but he was definitely amused by our investigative work. “Um, because he knows I’m right.”
“Either that or the blood will be from one of your friends and you dropped them right in it.”
My world slammed to an abrupt stop. What if it was? Would that mean they’d done it? No, it couldn’t be. “It won’t be theirs,” I said, my throat closing around the words.
“Whatever you say. My money’s on Kyle though.”
Did Blake know about Kyle’s affair with Courtney? “Why Kyle?”
“He has those dark eyes. They look mysterious slash serial killer.”
I laughed. “‘Mysterious slash serial killer’? Brown eyes don’t make you a murderer.”
“It’s not the color. Just the way they look.”
I shook my head. Blake was no longer making sense.
“So…Lawrence’s?” he said. “I’m assuming that’s Goldilocks’s dad?”
“Yes, and how do you know Tilly was blond?”
“I can sniff blonds out. It’s a gift.”
“You’re a pig!”
He laughed, standing up as I did. “I do know you all, you know. Well, I know of you.” Right, he had seen us from the car as his parents had done the child swap. “How far away does Lawrence live?”
“Five minutes. We all live close.”
“I hate small villages.”
“There’s nothing wrong with this village.”
“Sure, if you don’t mind a bit of murder every now and then,” he muttered.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed his words to the back of my mind. I was grateful that he was helping me, but his little jabs weren’t helpful. He joked about situations to make people think he didn’t care about anything. But that wasn’t true. Blake cared, but for some reason, he wouldn’t drop the tough-guy act.
“And where you’re from is so much better?”
“Towns are better. Fact. Here, everyone knows your business, and they all look at you, wondering what you’re up to. In towns, people have lives. In villages, people’s lives are other people’s lives.”
“OK then.” We reached the bottom of the stairs, and I frowned in concern. Should we leave his mom alone? “Blake, is she really OK? I feel like we should do something for her.”
Eloise sat in the same position, still, motionless. I wished Blake and I had met somewhere else. I understood why he didn’t like staying at his mom’s anymore. Usually, I was good with grieving people. I could do or say something to try to help, but not with Eloise. She gave me nothing to work with. Crying I could handle. Angry I could handle. An emotionless statue? I drew a blank.
“Has your mum eaten anything? Maybe we should make her a sandwich before we leave,” I said as we stopped outside the lounge door.
“She won’t eat it even if you make something—never does.”
“What about you?”
“I’m a big boy, Mackenzie. I can look after myself.” He walked to the front door, and I followed.
“You don’t cook,” I said. He wasn’t that helpful when my friends and I were preparing dinner.
“I can if I want to. I can even use a washing machine.”
“Whoa, never knew guys like you existed. My dad still has to ask what setting it goes on if he’s forced to do it.”
Blake smirked. “He knows. If he pisses you off by asking every time, you won’t make him do it. I would have done the same, but it being just me and Dad at home…”
“I’ve never met your dad.”
He unlocked his car and opened the door. “We’re not quite there yet.”
Rolling my eyes, I got in the passenger side. We weren’t together, and right then, that was the last thing on my mind—well, not last, but certainly behind finding my friends’ killer. Whatever was happening between us though, it was real and powerful.
“So what’s this Lawrence like?” he asked.
“He was really nice until Tilly died.”
“Understandable, I guess.”
“He doesn’t like Josh, so we probably shouldn’t mention you’re his brother.”
He scoffed and pulled out of his driveway. “Is there anyone in this village that actually did like Josh?”
“Courtney,” I replied. “Look, he wasn’t all bad, and no one actually wanted him to die.”
Blake’s eyebrow arched. “One person did. We’re still assuming it was just one person, right?”
I shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve thought too much about that. All I know is that it’s not one of my friends.”
“Or more than one of your friends.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You know, when I first met you, I thought you were all right.”
Blake turned his head to me and smirked.
“Watch the road!” I yelped.
“Where does this guy live exactly?”
I gave him the address and sat back, holding on and praying for my life. The accelerator was Blake’s best friend. He didn’t necessarily drive dangerously; he just liked to put his foot down on the gas and do it frequently.
“What are you gonna say to him? We can’t exactly knock on his door and be all, ‘Hey, did you murder two teens—’”
“I get it,” I said, cutting him off. What should we say? After Tilly died, I popped around to see how her parents were and helped them sort out some of her clothes they were donating to charity, but I hadn’t been by in months. Perhaps I could use that as an excuse though. “I’ll say I’m checking in to make sure they’re OK, like I used to. Remember: do not tell them you’re related to Josh. I’m serious, Blake.”
“Yeah, I got it, but thanks for the reminder.”
I didn’t talk to Blake for the rest of the short drive; we would have probably ended up bickering, and I needed to stay calm. I was an awful liar and prayed that Lawrence wouldn’t see through me straightaway.
As Blake pulled up outside the yellow brick bungalow, my heart started to pound against my chest. I might have been the only one willing to go out there and look for the real killer, but I was definitely the worst person to do it.
“Ready?” Blake asked.
I gulped and nodded. “Let’s get this over with.” I didn’t want to think about Tilly’s dad being the killer. I had slept in that bungalow hundreds of times and eaten Lawrence’s famous cheese-and-bacon bagels more times than I could count. How could someone I know be a murderer? Murderers were on TV shows. They shouldn’t exist in my world. But yet, my best friend was dead.
I walked along the path with Blake trailing behind. He didn’t make any stupid comments or try to hurry me. Tapping on the door lightly, I took a deep breath to try and calm my racing heart.
“Mackenzie, what a surprise,” Lawrence said as he opened the door. “What brings you here?”
I smiled, going over the reason I’d rehearsed in my head on the way over. “I just wanted to come by and see how you’re all doing. It’s been a while.”
“It has.” He nodded and looked at Blake. “And you are?”
Don’t say you’re Josh’s brother. Do not say you’re Josh’s brother.
I wasn’t sure how Lawrence would react if he knew; he hated Josh more than anyone. Blake held his hand out, and Lawrence shook it. “Everyone calls me Spike.” He slung his arm over my shoulder. “I’m Mackenzie’s boyfriend.”
I am going to kill him.
I smiled tightly, gritting my teeth. Spike? Really? He couldn’t have come up with a lamer name if he’d tried. We should have discussed who he’d be in the car, but I did not see “Spike” coming.
“Spike,” Lawrence said slowly and looked at me as if it to say what on earth are you doing with this boy? Believe me, at that moment, I had no idea. “Nice to meet you. Please, come on in.”
Lawrence walked ahead, and I took the opportunity to slap Blake’s arm while no one was looking. What the hell? I mouthed, which only made Blake smile.
“You know your way to the living room. I’ll make us some tea,” Lawrence said over his shoulder. Blake turned his nose up but didn’t ask for coffee instead.
“OK,” I replied, turning right into the living room. It was exactly the same as it had been for all the time I’d known Tilly. Light-caramel walls, a brown sofa, and oak coffee table, but they had replaced the wood-framed clock with a modern one. Tilly had hated that old clock and said it looked like it belonged in a retirement home. She would definitely have approved of the modern change.
Blake and I waited in silence. I played with my fingers, nervously anticipating the conversation we were about to have. We couldn’t exactly come right out and ask if he’d committed any murders recently.
Beside me, Blake pressed his leg against mine and then took my hand, silently giving me strength and support. “Calm down,” he whispered.
“What if he did it?”
“I don’t think he’ll admit it, Mackenzie. We’ll be all right.”
“What if we’re not? If he killed them, he’s capable of doing the same to us.”
Gripping my chin, he tilted my face so my focus was on him. “There is nothing in this world that is going to hurt you while I am here.”
“What’s happening to you?” I teased, keeping my voice as light as I could. Blake scowled as if he was unsure himself. Lawrence came into the room and set a tray of tea and biscuits down on the coffee table. Blake and I sat up straight. Our moment was over.
“Thank you,” I said. “So, how have you been?”
Tilly’s dad sat down on the worn leather sofa opposite us. “Not too bad now. Yourself?”
“Not great.”
“Right, of course. I’m very sorry to hear about Courtney and Joshua.” Are you? “You found them, didn’t you?”
I gave a small nod.
“I’m very sorry you saw that, Mackenzie. It must be very hard to live with.”
Lawrence’s voice was cold. His words didn’t seem genuine or heartfelt. There was nothing that showed me he meant what he said. I had always got along with Tilly’s family, but when she’d died, Lawrence had barely spoken to me—to any of Tilly’s friends—for a while. I knew he would have preferred it to have been me, or any of us, who had died that night instead of Tilly—of course he would. I went to see him because it was important to me to be there for Tilly. He was polite and never turned me away, but his demeanor was nothing like it had been before. He’d been polite when we’d arrived, but now that the conversation had shifted, he didn’t want me there.
Blake’s body tensed beside me. Not now. Whatever it is, not now! “I’m very sorry to hear about your daughter, Lawrence. Mackenzie’s told me Tilly was a great person.”
“Thank you, Spike. She was a great person, one of the best. My Tilly was going to be a doctor. All she ever wanted was to help people.”
I smiled at the bittersweet memories of Tilly tending to us all whenever something was wrong. She would never get to pursue her dream career, and that was such a shame because she would have been an amazing doctor.
“She would have been great at it,” I said. “I lost count of the times she played doctor when someone hurt themselves. You remember when I sprained my wrist a few years ago and she insisted on checking it regularly and changing the bandage?”
Lawrence laughed. “She drove you crazy, if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah, I had to keep stopping what I was doing so she could look. There wasn’t even anything to really check.” I would have understood if it had been a cut she could re-dress, but there was nothing to do. That was Tilly though. Even if there was nothing significant that she could do, she still tried to help.
“Aaron mentioned that too. Do you remember when he had pneumonia at the beginning of last year, and Tilly spent most of the week at his bedside?” Lawrence smiled fondly at the memory. “It was a shame they didn’t have the chance to make a go of things. He’s a good lad, and it was clear he was in love with her.”
Tilly and Aaron’s relationship was so on and off, you could barely give it the relationship title. Each time they got back together, they were great, but it never lasted very long. They seemed more stuck in a habit than anything else.
“Yeah, they would have been good together,” I said. Maybe being older and more mature, they would’ve stood a better chance, but they’d never get that opportunity. “Aaron misses her a lot too.”
“Yes, he’s here often to be close to her.”
I tried to hide the surprise on my face. Aaron came here often? We all visited but not much anymore. He mentioned coming a few times not long after the accident, but then we’d both stopped—I thought. It didn’t make sense that he wouldn’t tell me he still visited with Tilly’s family. We talked to each other a lot about Tilly.
What other secrets did Aaron have?
“He still comes a lot? I didn’t know that,” I said.
“Almost every week. He sits in her room or sometimes we look through pictures. I was surprised at first. Tilly was always crying over him or ranting at how much of a ‘stupid, pissing idiot’ he was.”
I could hear her words so clearly. She had used that phrase for Aaron so many times.
“It really does mean a lot that he still cares for her so deeply,” Lawrence said.
It would appear that Aaron did care about Tills much more than I ever knew, but was that enough to make him hate Courtney for being the unfortunate one behind the wheel the night? And hate Josh for his part in it?
There was something very wrong with thinking Aaron could’ve been their killer. He may have hated Josh, but he wasn’t vengeful. He didn’t ever wish harm on anyone. That wasn’t his personality. That wasn’t me or any of my friends.
“That’s nice. I’m glad he comes over. Tills would have been too,” I said finally.
Lawrence smiled, but his lips barely curled. “She would be.”
“How long ago was the accident?” Blake asked, putting a little too much emphasis on the word accident.
“Eight months ago,” I replied. I couldn’t quite believe months had passed. It still seemed like yesterday. I could still clearly hear the sound of crunching metal, smashing glass, and my friends’ screams. The minivan had rolled over before coming to an abrupt stop in a ditch. I had been in the row of seats in front of Tilly and Gigi, and if the truck had hit just a few inches forward, I probably would have died too.
“Eight months and six days,” Lawrence corrected. He shook his head. “I will never understand why Giana drank that day.”
I bit my lip. She hadn’t meant to get drunk. Before losing about fifteen pounds, she could drink about five or six drinks and not feel a thing. She’d only had two beers. And she’d known enough not to drive. That’s why Courtney was behind the wheel when it happened.
“She didn’t mean to,” I whispered. It wasn’t Gigi’s fault—or Courtney’s or Josh’s. It was a bloody accident. Why were so many people having a hard time understanding that? We all wished we could rewind time and have a do-over of that day, but we couldn’t, and it was just something we’d have to live with.
“I believe that, but the accident happened as a direct result of Giana’s drinking. She was a better driver than Courtney.” The way he said Gigi’s name gave me chills. She was Giana now.
Ice froze my heart. The venom in his tone was the same as Kyle’s when he’d told me how much Courtney had hurt him—he seemed so bitter now. I swallowed a massive lump building in my throat.
Tilly’s and Gigi’s deaths were an accident. We were hit by a truck. The driver was irrelevant when you had a massive truck ramming you up the arse. They never stood a chance, and if Gigi had been driving, it still would have been Tilly that died.
The man sitting in front of me wasn’t who he used to be. He was cold and detached. His eyes were empty and had no empathy.
It’s him. Lawrence was the killer.
It had to be him. The alternative was unthinkable.
I felt my face burn as blood pumped too hard. Gripping Blake’s hand, I shot up to my feet. “We should go. We have to meet Megan soon.” Blake frowned, looking at me as if I had lost it. Maybe I had. At this point, going crayon-eating crazy was entirely plausible. “I’ll stop by soon, Lawrence.”
He shook his head, surprised by our sudden departure. “OK.”
I held Blake’s hand in a death grip and pulled him through the house and out of the front door. I could barely breathe properly. My lungs felt like they were made of lead.
“Him,” I hissed in a whisper. “It was him!”
Blake took charge. With one hand on the small of my back, he pushed me forward, quickly leading me to his truck. “Get in,” he said, opening the door for me.
“It’s him,” I repeated, hands shaking in disbelief.
“You don’t know that. He didn’t say anything incriminating. The way he spoke about Gigi is the way most people talk about Josh. Hating someone doesn’t make you a killer, remember? Don’t mess the investigation up by charging into the police station when you’re all emotional like this,” he said, wiggling his fingers in my direction. “Mackenzie, just sit tight.”
“What? We can’t just do nothing!” Was Blake insane? Who knows if the police had even questioned Lawrence on his whereabouts that evening. They may never even consider him a suspect if we didn’t speak up.
“We don’t have a choice. There’s no evidence. If he’s pulled in for questioning now, he’ll have a chance to make sure his tracks are covered. Please, think about this carefully. Let’s at least wait until Wright has the results on that blood back before we go to him with this.”
I took a deep breath. He was right of course. Logically, I understood that I could screw everything up if I accused Lawrence without proof, but I was so desperate to clear our names and not have people look at me like I was a monster. I felt like I was crawling out of my skin.
“Fine, you’re actually making sense,” I replied.
He smiled. “Look, let’s go back to my place for an hour before I drop you off at Aaron’s, so you can both go to Megan’s later. You can’t go while you’re panicking.”
“Yeah, OK. Thanks, Blake.”
“Say that again.”
I rolled my eyes, looking out the window and smiling to myself. I’d teamed up with a proper idiot.