“So you and Mr. Parker found the body around midnight?” Detective Soleto had assured me the questions were routine, that she was interviewing everyone who’d been at the Parkers’ house the night before. But she had asked me this twice already. The way she kept flicking her eyes from the folder open in front of her to my face and back again was making me nervous.
“Yes.”
“Tell me again why you went out to the barn.”
“We could see that the light was on and the door was open from the house. The barn was supposed to be locked.”
After Ted had called the police on Friday night, he’d asked me if I could say that he and I had come down to the barn together and had found Hugh at the same time. That he had gotten there a minute or two before me was meaningless, but the police would likely read into it somehow. I asked him why he’d been in the barn at all, and he said that Hugh had wanted to show him something, and hadn’t said what. I didn’t know what to make of that, but part of me thought that Hugh had been about to reveal to Ted what he’d done to me, and that part of me was glad he was dead.
“Did Hugh have a key?”
“A key to what?”
Detective Soleto raised her eyes slowly from the file, taking me in. “To the barn. How did he get in?”
“Oh,” I said. “That’s easy. The doors aren’t flush, so you can use a stick to unhook the latch.”
“Really?” the detective nodded appraisingly. “And this was a trick Hugh knew?”
I suddenly felt like I was on unsteady ground, although I wasn’t sure exactly why.
“Well, yeah. Ted and his brother Tom both do it all the time. I’ve seen them do it, I’m sure Hugh did, too.”
“Hmm.” Her eyes returned to the file on the table. “And you’re sure that you and Mr. Parker walked through the door at the same time. One of you wasn’t a single step ahead of the other?” The skepticism that had been evident on her face from the start finally leaked into her voice.
“I—I guess Ted was in front of me. I don’t really remember. I’d had a lot to drink,” I fumbled. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I prayed she wouldn’t test my blood. In truth I’d only had the two shots of tequila Melissa had practically poured down my throat, and that had been hours ago.
Detective Soleto flipped the folder closed. “Well, you certainly look like you’re in rough shape this morning,” she said. She studied my face, which I knew was pale and pouched from fear and lack of sleep. She leaned toward me slightly and said, almost conspiratorially, “You know, a grilled cheese before bed will make the morning much easier to handle.” She sat back. “Just a bit of advice. For when you turn twenty-one.” She lifted an eyebrow.
I managed a wan smile—it seemed to be the reaction she was looking for—and thought we must be nearly finished. I slid my arms into the sleeves of my coat, draped over the back of my chair, and gathered my purse. As I stood, she slapped the folder open again.
“Just one more thing, Miss Valance. It’s a challenge to put together a timeline of events when we have such a large pool of witnesses. Everyone remembers different details, and we’re still not sure what might be relevant. And of course, alcohol and drugs are factors here. We heard from several people that you were talking to Mr. Marsden in the living room not long before he went out to the backyard. Do you recall what you spoke about?”
I flinched before I could stop myself. I realized, suddenly, how we must have looked: Hugh’s hands around my wrists, our faces close together. I had assumed no one was paying attention, and that if someone had been, they’d have seen my discomfort. But why would they? We must have looked like we were about to make out. And the detective had a point; everyone had been buzzed by that time.
“No idea,” I told her. I widened my eyes, trying to look innocent and upset. “I mean, I remember that we talked for a sec in the middle of everything. But I don’t think it was about anything important. Hugh liked to tease, me in particular.” I summoned all the chops I had to look sad. Maybe I could even force a tear. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.”
“It’s a tragic accident,” admitted Detective Soleto. “And very likely to draw a lot of attention to responsible property maintenance and underage drinking in our community. I don’t think we’ll see any parties in Belknap like the one last night anytime soon.”
I composed my face to look appropriately chastised. “I certainly don’t want to see any parties for a long time.”
“Well, Miss Valance, thank you for coming in. If anything else comes up, I know where to find you.” It sounded vaguely threatening, and my heart was pounding when I went out.
My mother was standing near the reception desk of the police station, speaking in hushed tones to a few other parents. Her eyes were red and she held out her arms when I came out. “Oh, honey. Are you okay? I am just so sorry all you kids have to go through something like this. It’s horrible, just horrible.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered. “Can we go home?” It was five in the morning, and we’d been there for hours.
“Of course. Let’s get you to bed.”
When we got home, I went straight upstairs, tripped over Anna’s old Docs getting into her creaky old bed with the bears, and slept for six hours. When I woke up, I ate the chocolate cream donut my father had bought me that morning and called Lexi.
She took the news of Hugh’s death in stride.
“I’m glad,” she said.
“Are you really?” I asked around a mouthful of sugar. I sipped some coffee and savored the way it blended with the crumbs on my tongue.
“Are you really asking me that?” asked Lexi, incredulous. “You know better than anyone that he was a psychopath.”
When I pictured Hugh’s face as it had been that night in Melissa’s guest bathroom, over my shoulder in the mirror, I felt the same way she did. I was glad he was gone, and I hoped that he was in hell. But when I remembered the scene in the barn, Hugh’s mangled body and Ted’s tears, I felt ashamed, like my soul must be black and shriveled.
“Ted was really upset,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Look, Courtney. I’m not saying Ted’s a dupe. But Hugh was a psychopath. Ted only knew the Hugh that Hugh wanted him to know.”
“I guess,” I said.
“I don’t think we can go to the police now,” Lexi said casually, as if it were an afterthought. “It would only cast suspicion on you, and the whole point was to stop him from doing it to other girls. You’ve done that now.”
“I didn’t do anything, Lexi.” I put my head in my hands. The way she said it, she thought it was empowering, a victory. “I know it’s my fault he’s dead, but I didn’t do anything.”
“You kept him away from Molly.”
“This time. If I had reported what he did to me—”
Lexi blew an exasperated breath into the phone, and I could picture her throwing up her hands. “And if Farnsworth had listened to me, then Hugh may not have had a chance to hurt you. And he’d probably still be alive. A sex offender, but alive. It’s not your fault, Courtney. You were one link in a chain that Hugh forged himself. That’s what led to his death, not you.”
“I guess,” I said softly.
Lexi lowered her voice, too. “Anyway, if you’re going to do the shoulda-coulda-woulda thing, remember that we might not even know each other, if this had all happened differently.”
I put the donut down on the kitchen table. It was suddenly far too cloying and sweet. I was remembering the taste of Lexi’s mouth: cigarettes and raspberry lip gloss and underneath, something that was just her, the way every kiss has its own flavor, no matter how many Altoids you chow in anticipation. But I didn’t know what to say to her, whether my feelings were too much or not enough or just brought on by shared experience.
Lexi sensed my hesitation. “And Farah and Rahim probably wouldn’t even know each other’s real names,” she said, laughing, trying to lift the tension I had put into the conversation.
I was grateful to talk about something other than my own mixed-up feelings for a minute. “Yeah. What’s going on there?”
“I think he’s giving her hacker lessons. Stanford scholarship or no, Farah’s attracted to the dark side,” Lexi laughed.
I remembered the day I first talked to her, the message over the darkroom door: Welcome to the Dark Side. The painting depicted Darth Vader in painstaking detail, but he seemed like a cartoon to me now. Farah spying on everyone on the Belknet; Lexi drugging Hugh; Rahim’s gleaming glass building—that was the dark side. Not being sorry that Hugh was dead—I was on the dark side now.