Dead Girls Don't Lie (10 page)

I pull away and shiver. I’m not sure if it’s because of his touch or because of the warning in his voice.

Chapter 11

I hurry, but the sun is setting faster than I expect it to. I’ve been gone a long time, and Dad is going to be worried. As the shadows get longer, my imagination keeps inventing things in the bushes. A cat running across the road makes me jump sideways. I pull out one earbud, because not being able to hear is freaking me out. The fastest way home would be to cut across the dirt road that eventually leads past the old house. No way am I going by it now. I skirt around it on the paved road, but I can’t help but look at the top of the house, at the one broken window. It reminds me of Rachel’s bedroom window, hollow and empty.

I stop dead in my tracks, remembering the bag of beads. Evan didn’t give them back to me. I was so worried about Skyler being mad that I forgot to get them from him. I look up at the darkening sky. I’ll have to be quick if I’m going to get the beads and make it home by dark. I hesitate just a second before I turn around and head back toward the school.

It’s almost completely dark when I make it to the playground. Everything smells like cut grass, but the lawnmower and Evan are both gone. I slow to a walk as I approach the fireplace, hoping he left the bag here. The fireplace is covered by shadows from the trees around it. I’m almost to it when I see something move. I freeze and watch for a second. At first I think it’s just the shadow of the trees moving in the wind. Then there’s a light dancing around inside the opening, like a flashlight. I back up against the side of the school building, hiding in a little alcove between windows, watching.

Someone stands up from the fireplace. He’s tall, but he’s wearing a black hoodie and his face is shadowed by a baseball cap, so I can’t tell who he is. He starts walking toward me. I press my back hard against the brick wall, trying to keep my breath still, but my heart is pounding so much that if he gets any closer, I’m sure he’ll hear it. He keeps walking until he’s just to the side of me, where I can’t see him around the corner of the school.

I jump as another voice to my right whispers, “Did you find anything?”

For a second I think the first guy saw me move; he stops like he’s scanning the side of the school. I cram myself farther into the corner. After an eternity, he walks by me.

“No,” the first guy says. I don’t dare look around the corner to see if I can see their faces.

“Are you sure she was looking for something?” the second voice asks. It’s a boy, someone closer to my age than the first voice. They’re just a few yards to the side of me, but I’m too afraid to look.

“Why else would she be digging around inside a fireplace?” They’re talking about
me
. Were they watching me, following me? I strain my ears, trying to decide if the voice is familiar.

“She wasn’t carrying anything when she left, at least nothing I could see.”

“Maybe there wasn’t anything for her to find.”

“He said she had a journal—”

Who is he?

“Maybe he was wrong. Anyway, why would she have written it all down? It’s not like she knew she was going to—”

“None of us did.” His voice is thick with regret. He pauses for a second. I smell cigarette smoke.

My blood chills; they’re talking about Rachel.

“Just in case, we’d better make sure there isn’t anything here to find.”

For a few minutes I hear shuffling and the cracking of branches; something sloshes and the air fills up with first the smell of gasoline and then the spicy, musty smell of burning leaves. The fire pours out of the hearth and for a second lights up the hat the second guy is wearing. It says
LAKE RIDGE HIGH STATE CHAMPS
.

I stay still for a long time after the fire dies down, after their footsteps fade in the dark, so long that I wonder if I can make my body move again. When I finally gather enough courage to leave the safety of my alcove, my first instinct is to run, and run hard.

I think about going to the police, but what would I tell them? I don’t have the message from Rachel, or her note, or her necklace. And Rachel said not to go to them, not to trust them.

Don’t trust anyone but Eduardo
. But Eduardo hates me.

I need to sort this out. I have to get the beads back. My heart pounds in my ears in time to the pounding of the pavement under my feet; between the two I can’t tell if someone is following me now. I don’t dare turn around to look.

Outside of town, I pause for a second to catch my breath. Debating the route again—longer paved roads or the shorter road that will take me by the old house. I freeze. Footsteps are coming toward me. I turn. No one is there, but a shadow moves between the streetlights, maybe a cat, but I’m not sure. Headlights come up the street. The shadow disappears behind a tree.

An old truck rumbles by with a bunch of migrant workers in the back, lit cigarettes glowing red as they pass. One of them yells something to me in Spanish. I shrink farther off the side of the road. The truck stops and the driver leans out. “Want a ride, chica?” He looks older than my dad.

One of the passengers in the back leans forward, arguing with the man in Spanish. I take a couple of steps backward, plotting my escape route. I turn, prepped to run, and catch a glimpse of Eduardo in the corner of the truck. I look into his eyes, begging for help, but he looks through me like he doesn’t know who I am. The door opens. I stumble backward and then run.

I cut across the field toward Rachel’s house, running hard, sliding over loose rocks and uneven ground. I try to hurdle an irrigation ditch and land with my ankle sideways in soft earth on the other side. It pops as I fall. A cry of pain escapes my lips, and I land in a crumpled heap.

“Okay, chica?” the man calls.

I grit my teeth and stand, trying not to limp as I start running again, my ankle burning with every step. The truck doesn’t turn down the road. I limp/run until I can see the top of the old house clearly, the upstairs window looming above the trees. I glance back, but the truck is still sitting on the side of the road, the headlights illuminating the field. I’m so scared that I can’t think straight. Running away now feels wrong, like I’m confirming what Eduardo said about me, but I’m driven by fear and adrenaline; I don’t know what else to do.

I slow to a walk, still trying not to limp. If they’d leave, I’d go back that way to get home. Even if it is farther. Even if my ankle is broken. I don’t want to go by the old house, or Rachel’s house. I’m not sure which I’m more afraid of, the men in the truck or the house in front of me. I don’t dare turn around to see if they’re still watching me.

A truck roars behind me, barreling through the field. Its headlights feel hot on my back. It’s getting closer. They’re going to run me down. I start running again, but I can’t move fast enough. I won’t make it anywhere safe before they catch me. Not to Rachel’s. Not even to the old house. My ankle is screaming a warning with every step, but I keep running.

“Jaycee!” It’s Skyler’s voice. “Jaycee!” I stop and turn. When I see his face, relief hits me so hard that I almost cry. He slows to a stop, opens the door, and gets out. “What are you doing out here?” He pauses for a second, maybe taking in how horrible I look. “Are you okay?”

I look toward the edge of the field, where the truck was
parked, but I’m blinded by Skyler’s headlights so I can’t tell if they’re gone. I take in a quivering breath and burst out with the truth. “No.”

He opens his arms and I melt into his chest. “What happened?”

“I went running.” I breathe into his neck. “That’s why I was at the school. I ran there and your brother saw me, so I stopped to talk to him. Please don’t be mad. Evan told me you were coming … to get him. I was going to wait …”

He puts his hand on my back, patting it awkwardly. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have—”

But I have more to tell him, and now that it’s started, I can’t stop the flood. “I went back … I heard these guys … I think … they were following me.”

He pulls away from me. “Wait? What? Who was following you?” He glances up the field. “Those guys in the truck?”

I take in a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure—” I step back, stumble, and gasp as my ankle bites in protest.

Skyler grabs my shoulders and keeps me from falling, but he looks really freaked out. “Did they hurt you?” He’s checking me over, like he’s looking for a fatal wound.

“I twisted my ankle. I jumped over a ditch and fell.”

“Sit down. Let me look at it.”

He bends to untie my shoe, but I stop him. “I’d rather just get out of here.”

“Right. Good idea. But shouldn’t we tell someone? I mean, if those guys were following you.”

I glance at the truck again. I’m not sure of anything right
now. “No. I’m okay.” I lean on his arm and try to hobble toward his truck, but my ankle feels like it’s going to explode.

“Let me help you.” He slides his arm around my back trying to help me to his truck, but he ends up making me lean my weight on my ankle. I grit my teeth to keep from screaming or throwing up from the pain.

“Forget this.” He opens the door to his truck, picks me up, and sets me inside. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I admit, “but I’ll live.” When he gets back in the truck I say, “Thanks for rescuing me again.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I saw you running. You went into the field and it looked like those guys in the truck were coming after you. I had to help.”

“But why did you come back?”

He concentrates on some dried dirt on his jeans, digging at it with his fingernail. “Actually, I was looking for Evan.”

“To give him a ride home?”

Skyler shakes his head in disgust. “No. To kick his butt … or … something.” He glances up to catch my reaction, but I’m not sure how to respond to that. “Sorry. I’m just so sick of him. He gets any girl he wants, treats her like dirt, and then moves on to the next one. I heard he gave you a ride to the lake on his motorcycle and I thought that you … and then you were together at the school.” He’s clenching and unclenching his fist, tendons rippling across a white scar on his wrist. “I’m tired of him thinking he can take whatever is mine.” His face flushes red, like he realizes what he just said. “Not that I think you’re
mine
or anything, but …”

Everything he said churns through my mind. He was jealous of Evan, to the point where he was ready to start a fight. He even implied that he wants me to be his. I guess that means he really likes me. I’ve never been in this situation before. I’m not sure what I should do or say. I like Skyler, I like him a lot. I just don’t—

For a second I hear Rachel’s voice in my head. “You analyze everything too much. Sometimes you just have to go on instinct.”

So I do what I think Rachel would have done. I lean across the seat and press my lips against his—our second kiss, totally initiated by me.

I pull away, my face blazing, already wondering if I did the right thing. He looks shocked or … I don’t know what. I can barely look at him, but I have to say what I’m thinking before the moment passes. “I’m not interested in Evan. At all.”

As soon as I say it, I know it’s true. I feel free, like the shy, awkward girl who obsessed over the high school jerk is on her way out. Skyler gathers me in his arms and kisses me back, long and deep, until I can feel it in my toes.

As he pulls away I feel a stab of pain, knowing I lost Rachel over someone like Evan and something that could never be real.

Chapter 12

“Come find me, Jaycee.”

Rachel is calling me from somewhere on the far end of the playground. But it’s foggy, one of those days where people disappear and reappear in a haze of gray. I call back, running toward her voice, but when I get there she’s calling from somewhere else, over by the fireplace. I turn and run again, but then I’m underwater, trapped in long flowing weeds that turn into her hair. I’m trying to get free, but the more I struggle, the more I get tangled in Rachel’s hair.

Just when I think I’m going to drown, the scene shifts to the porch of the old house. I’m huddled close to Rachel and everywhere I turn I get a face full of long dark hair. I step backward and then I’m wrapped in thick black curtains. I’m scared, claustrophobic, and I’m not alone.

I tear the blankets away from my face and sit up so hard that I jar my ankle and cry out. I’m disoriented, tangled in a quilt on the couch and my ankle feels like it’s on fire. I take
a breath and adjust my position. When I look up, I’m face to face with the emptiness of the front window in the living room, where I fell asleep last night after Skyler brought me home. The long drapes billow out with the breeze from the open window. I stare at them, terrified, for a second I think I see someone there; his back to me, his face hidden, a white number on his back.

Eighteen.

“Jaycee, how did you get in here?” Dad looks scared and shocked, almost as shocked as he was when Skyler carried me through the front door last night.

I sit up and look around my room, disoriented. I blink in the sunlight that filters in through my closed curtains. “I walked.”

Walked, limped, crawled; anything to get away from the black window in the front room last night, its hollow and gaping eyes leaving me exposed, a fragile piece of glass the only thing protecting me from whatever might be outside. Or the dark folds of the open curtains, where anyone might be hiding.

Dad crosses the room. “I’m sorry, honey. I should have helped you to your own bed last night, but you were so tired by the time I got Skyler to leave.”

Skyler had stayed with me, getting me ice, holding my foot on a pillow, talking to me and Dad until he had hinted, more than once, that Skyler should go home.

“I’m okay.” I slide my leg sideways and then flinch, my ankle throbbing a reminder of last night. I touch my lips and remember that not all of it was bad.

“How is your ankle?” Dad reaches to pull the covers off my legs.

I’d like to lie and say “fine,” but I’m too busy gritting my teeth as he untangles the blanket from around my leg. I glance down at the purplish, yellowish, blackish lump that passes for my ankle and then have to look away.