Blood on My Hands Page 11

  “Right, thanks.” I reach for the screen door and let myself out into the night. Behind me, Jerry cleans the doorknob with a wipe.

  In the cool night air, I have to decide what to do next. A harvest moon has started to rise, big and orange-red, and as I pause to look at it, I catch some movement out of the corner of my eye. It’s come through the window of the basement, where Jerry has taken his seat again. His cell phone is pressed to his ear, and his expression implies that he’s speaking urgently. I wish I knew to whom, and what he is saying.

  I glance at the moon again and now I notice something else: near the back of the yard is a tree lit by moonlight, and in the branches is a square dark silhouette—a tree house. Stepping closer, I see planks of wood hammered crookedly into the trunk for steps. The tree house is a wooden box with a doorway and some rectangular cutouts for windows. I wonder if this is something Jerry’s father built long ago in an unsuccessful attempt to get his son to go outside.

  It’s as good a place as any to spend the night.

  A moment later, sitting in the tree house, I try Slade’s number but get his recording. I don’t want to leave a message. Even if the police can no longer trace my phone, they might be able to identify my voice and charge Slade with helping me.

  Fatigue drifts in like a thick fog. I would like to stay awake and try to figure out what my next move should be, but instead, I lie down on the floor and close my eyes.

  By August, Katherine was no longer nagging me to break up with Slade. I assumed she now liked me enough not to make it a condition of our friendship. I was being included in everything the IC did and, except for work, having the best summer of my life. And while I missed Slade, I also felt strangely liberated—free to do whatever I chose on my days and nights off, not having to feel responsible for propping him up when he sank into one of his moods.

  Then, all of a sudden, it got quiet. I sent Katherine a text and got no reply. I sent an e-mail: same thing. I assumed she was on vacation.

  One afternoon Mia came into the Baskin-Robbins. “So I hear you’re all going to Zelda’s beach house for the weekend,” she said while I scooped out a double mint Oreo cone for her.

  I managed to catch myself before blurting out that I didn’t know what she was talking about. Mia studied me. “You don’t want to talk about it because you don’t want to make me feel bad, right? But it’s okay. Maybe I don’t care anymore.”

  “Really?” I asked as I handed her the cone. It was hard to imagine her changing so dramatically.

  Mia leaned closer to the ice-cream case and lowered her voice. “Well, maybe I do, but I’m not going to act like I do anymore. I think if you act like you don’t care, like Zelda and Jodie, Katherine respects you more.”

  I knew that worked for Zelda and Jodie, but I wasn’t so sure it would work for Mia.

  “Besides,” she went on with a smile, “guess what? I’ve discovered there’s actually life outside Soundview High.”

  I grinned. But as soon as she left, I called Jodie and asked if Katherine was away.

  “No,” she answered.

  An awkward silence followed. I was suddenly filled with uncertainty. Finally I said, “I’ve e-mailed and texted and she hasn’t answered.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jodie said. “Well … you know.”

  “Sorry?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “She wanted you to do something and you didn’t do it.”

  Even then it took a moment for me to realize what Jodie was talking about. I was stunned. All I could say was “Why is it so important to her?”

  “You’re asking me?” Jodie laughed. “Who knows? For all I know, maybe she wants you for herself.”

  Chapter 27

  Tuesday 6:08 A.M.

  “I CAN HELP you get what you want.”

  “But there’s a catch, right? Something I’ll have to do for you?”

  “Of course.”

  “So what is it?”

  “When the time is right, I’ll let you know.”

  I wake to a roar in my ears and sit up, disoriented. It sounds like a jet engine. The air in the tree house is heavy with moisture, and here and there water drips in through the slats of the roof. A downpour thunders from above. I check my cell phone for the time—just after six in the morning—and debate whether to call Slade, who is a late sleeper. Giving in to urgency, I call, knowing that it will surely wake him.

  “Hello?” He picks up right away.

  “You’re up!”

  “Haven’t been getting much sleep lately. What’s going on? Where are you? I thought you were worried the police were tracing your calls.”

  “Jerry fixed it so they can’t trace me.”

  “Jerry?”

  “Sebastian’s old friend. I’ve told you about him. Crazy reclusive tech whiz?”

  “Oh, yeah. So where are you? Can I see you? There’s something I want to tell you.”

  “Uh …” I’m about to tell him where I am when I catch myself. What if the police are listening to his phone … or sitting there in the room with him, threatening to arrest him if he doesn’t help them? “Can’t you tell me over the phone?”

  “I … No, I’ve been thinking, Cal, and this is something I have to tell you in person.”

  I feel myself fill with apprehension. “Why? What is it?”

  “It’s better if it’s face-to-face.”

  I can’t imagine why he can’t tell me over the phone. It doesn’t feel right. “Slade, it would be better if you just tell me now.”

  “Come on, Cal, can’t you just tell me where you are? I can probably be there in five minutes. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

  After everything that’s happened, I can’t help feeling suspicious and cautious. I want to trust him, but some sixth sense is sending me warning signals. They might be about him, or they might be about something else. I only know I have to be extra careful. Paranoid, just like he said. “Slade, it’s better if you tell me over the phone. Really, it’s okay. No one’s listening.”

  “I know no one’s listening,” he snaps, suddenly becoming angry. “Why can’t you just cooperate for once? Why do you always have to have everything your way?”

  “Slade, it’s not that.… You know it isn’t.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” His words seethe with sarcasm.

  “It’s true!” I insist, stung.

  “Right. Just like the reason you broke up with me had nothing to do with the fact that I wasn’t going to college. Or I didn’t know the right way to hold a fork and that my family didn’t belong to the right clubs. Damn, I’ve heard this all before. Why do I even bother?”

  “Slade, what are you talking about?” I’m truly bewildered. I can’t remember ever talking to him about forks or belonging to clubs.

  “Forget it, Cal.”

  “Forget what?”

  “I said forget it. Oh, and listen, your cover’s been blown. On the news last night they had a security-camera shot of you in some grocery store in your punk getup. You can bet it’ll be on the local news again this morning and all over the Internet.”

  The anger and sarcasm hurt. “Thank you for telling me that, Slade,” I say, even though I already know. “I wish you’d tell me why you’re so upset.”

  Silence. And then, sounding choked up, he says, “Forget it, Cal. It probably doesn’t even matter at this point.”

  “It does matter, Slade. Don’t you want us to get back together?”

  The line goes quiet. Is he still there? “Slade?”

  “I … I gotta go, Cal.”

  “No!”

  But he’s gone.

  Jodie told me why I hadn’t been invited to Zelda’s beach house, and why Katherine had suddenly become silent. And that was when I panicked and gave into impulse and acted rashly.

  I called Slade … and told him it was over.

  As soon as I got off the phone, I sent a text to Katherine: I did it.

  Not ten minutes passed before a text arrive
d from Zelda: Want 2 go 2 my beach house this wknd?

  I went, trying not to think about what I’d done, and to be honest, I had a great time. Zelda’s house was huge, bright, and breezy, and the crash of the surf was always in my ears, and the fresh scent of salt air in my nose. It was Katherine, Jodie, Zelda, Brianna, and me. Dakota was away on vacation with her parents.

  I felt like a different person. At night we went to a dance club, where college guys hit on us. It made me wonder if I should apply to a four-year school in the fall. Given the alternative—two years at FCC, living at home, hanging around the same old town—why not at least try to get in somewhere else? I was in a new place—with my girlfriends and with my life. By the end of the weekend, I believed Katherine. I might have loved Slade, but he wasn’t right for me.

  And, I thought, I was in the IC.

  Chapter 28

  Tuesday 7:18 A.M.

  OUTSIDE, THE DOWNPOUR has eased to a drizzle. After that phone call, I can only assume that something with Slade has changed, even if I don’t know what it is. All I know is that calling him back to argue or plead isn’t going to solve anything. Still, I wish he hadn’t gotten angry. I really wish he’d told me he loved me. Could that be why he wanted to see me in person?

  And some good news came out of our conversation: Jerry really did make my phone untraceable. From the tree house, I can see the streets in front of and behind the Fairman house, and there are no police cruisers racing up with their lights and sirens off.

  But now what? My disguise is no good. I am hungry and dirty and hate the way my hair and scalp feel. Is it time to turn myself in and tell the police what I’ve learned about the anonymous threatening texts? Wouldn’t they have to look into that? Especially since they must have a record of Griffen’s parents’ report. At least then I’d be able to rest and eat and take a shower.

  But there’s that other Callie. The one who made me run even when I got the most painful stitch in my side. The one who said that no matter how many reasons I came up with for stopping, I’d still be quitting. Sometimes I hate that girl. Life would be so much simpler if she weren’t there making me feel bad and guilty every time I thought about taking a shortcut or the easy way out.

  I can’t prove I didn’t kill Katherine by hiding. So I have to think, figure out what the next step should be. There must be information out there that can help me, even if I don’t know what it is or where to look for it. But I’m sure of one thing—I won’t come across it if I turn myself in.

  So the first thing I have to do is listen to the other Callie and not give up. And then what? To prove that someone committed murder, you have to prove that they had the opportunity, the means, and the motive.

  The opportunity was at the kegger. The means was the knife. The mo—

  And that’s when it hits me. The knife! It had that square red logo with the white stick figures. The same logo I saw that day in Dakota’s kitchen! I can’t believe it took me this long to put it together! That will prove Dakota did it!

  After the weekend at Zelda’s, the fun continued for the final two weeks of the summer. Wherever the IC went and whatever they did, I was included. Not all the girls were there. Zelda stayed at the beach and Dakota was still away with her family. But that left Katherine, Brianna—who in Dakota’s absence had become Katherine’s constant companion—Jodie, and me.

  Sometimes it was a little awkward, like when they went clothes shopping and I couldn’t afford much for myself. Meanwhile, as the day Slade was due to finish Guard training and come home approached, I began to watch the local news and check the paper. Then I read this one morning in the Fairchester Press:

  FAIRCHESTER—COUNTY OFFICIALS ANNOUNCED TODAY THAT FAIRCHESTER’S EIGHTY NATIONAL GUARD MEMBERS WILL BE DEPLOYED TO AFGHANISTAN IN LATE SEPTEMBER.

  County Administrator Kevin Parsons is hoping residents will give them a patriotic send-off. The Guard members will serve as support for US Army troops.

  “We’re asking folks to let these men and women know how much they are appreciated,” Parsons said, then added that he has asked local municipalities to fly extra American flags and put up other patriotic decorations.

  Parsons, who himself is a member of a National Guard Special Forces group, said he hoped local residents would also display flags and other symbols of support. “Anyone who puts himself in harm’s way for our national security deserves all the appreciation we can muster.”

  I felt my heart sink. Slade’s worst fear had come true.

  Slade was scheduled to come home the day before school started. I assumed that the men in his unit would be allowed a few weeks after training to see their families and make arrangements before their deployment. As the day of his arrival grew nearer, I became miserable and anxious and scared. Part of me yearned to see him, and part of me was terrified of what might happen if I did.

  The easiest thing to do was avoid the whole issue. There were always parties on the night before school began. I joined Katherine, Brianna, Jodie, and Zelda, who volunteered to be our designated driver, because she was taking an antibiotic for an ear infection and wasn’t allowed to drink.

  Nobody said a word about Dakota. I knew she must have gotten home from her family vacation, but I didn’t ask why she wasn’t with us.

  There was lots of drinking and catching up with friends we hadn’t seen over the summer. By our third stop, things began to get a little fuzzy for me. I remember getting out of the car and stumbling slightly over the curb. Katherine caught my arm to steady me and we laughed at my klutziness. The next thing I knew, we were holding hands and walking across the lawn toward the next party.

  “Wasn’t Slade supposed to come home today?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I answered, surprised she knew that.

  “Have you seen him?”

  I shook my head.

  “Do you want to?”

  I shrugged. “It’s probably better if I don’t. He’s going overseas in a few weeks.”

  “So you’re not sorry you broke up with him?”

  In my heart I knew I was very sorry. In my head I wasn’t sure. But what good would it do to tell Katherine that? In her opinion I’d done the right thing by breaking up with him. “No,” I said. “You were right.”

  Katherine squeezed my hand and then let go.

  As it got late, people began to settle down. By then we were at the home of Alex Craft, the impossibly cute star of many PACE productions, playing flip cup and drinking. Then someone suggested we play suck and blow. We all sat in a circle, boy-girl-boy-girl, and started to pass a card around with our lips. You’re not allowed to touch the card with your hands, and the way you keep it on your lips is by sucking in air behind it. Then you turn to the person next to you and they press their lips to the other side of the card and you blow while they suck, and the card stays with them. You’re out of the game if you drop the card before you give it to the next person. And if it falls while you’re getting it from or giving it to someone, you usually wind up kissing them.

  I was sitting with Alex on my right and Seth Phillips on my left. The first few times Alex passed the card to me, I instantly dropped it. Our lips touched, but it didn’t feel much like a kiss. And each time, I had to back out of the circle and wait for the next round to begin.

  At first there was the expected protesting from the boys when their lips touched, and giggling from the girls, but it seemed like after a while, it got quieter, except when someone made a wisecrack and people laughed. Of course, the card wasn’t the only thing being passed around. So was a bottle.

  I don’t know how long we played. People kept changing their seats and moving around. Either because I’d had so much to drink or because I had the least practice, I was usually one of the first to be DQ’d. That made me want to try harder, even though everything felt like it began to spin whenever I closed my eyes.

  And then David Sloan dropped the card, and the next time it came around, Katherine got it and turned to me.

  And
when she tried to press the card against my lips, it fell.

  And then she was pressing her lips against mine.

  And I kind of remember thinking that was strange and didn’t she realize that she’d dropped the card?

  But her lips stayed on mine.

  And then they parted.

  I remember thinking, Wait … no. I might have even said it out loud, or maybe not, because as I pulled away, she leaned forward so she was still kissing me.

  I’m pretty sure that at that point I turned my face away and I tried to get up, but I tripped over something.

  And then I was on my hands and knees on the floor.

  And then I was sick.

  The next morning, my first as a senior in high school, I had the worst hangover of my life. But I took a bunch of Advil and went anyway. At lunch we took our seats at the same table we’d sat at the past year, only Dakota wasn’t there and it was now Brianna who sat closest to Katherine.

  Everyone chatted and acted as if nothing unusual had happened the night before. They were so normal, in fact, that I began to wonder if something had really happened or I’d only imagined it.

  Chapter 29

  Tuesday 7:43 A.M.

  I WAIT INSIDE the tree house until the next downpour begins and then climb down and walk through the heavy rain, hoping that as long as it’s pouring, pedestrians will be preoccupied with staying dry and trying to avoid puddles. If I’m lucky, drivers will be watching for other cars, not fugitives from the law. A pickup truck goes past, wipers swiping, and I do a double take. It’s Slade and there’s someone small in the passenger seat. He’s driving Alyssa to school.

  The Lamonts keep a spare key under a flowerpot near the back door. By the time I let myself in, I’m soaked to the skin. It’s quiet and still inside. Even better, it’s warm and dry. But being in this kitchen stirs up a stew of memories and emotions. There’s a feeling of familiarity but also a yearning for that time when I felt like I belonged here, when I’d make a big steaming pot of spaghetti on the old stove and pretend that I was part of the family.