So Over My Head (23 page)
W
e’re going to see Red and Stewart breaking into Betty’s coffin?” Well, here’s the one time I wish he
would’ve
called Ashley Timmons instead. “And what—we’re going to see if they’d like some refreshments?”
Luke locks his vehicle as I hop down. “No, we’re going to see what they’re looking for.” He walks to my side and waits. “Can you handle this?”
“Uh, yeah.” I snort. “Totally.”
He slings an arm around me as we hit the dirt road. “Then why are you shaking?”
“Fever.” I swallow hard and try not to think of Betty’s dead corpse. “Probably the flu—just another reason I won’t be making out with you tonight.”
“Very thoughtful of you.” He drops his arm and reaches for my hand instead. “Stick close to me. I know where I’m going.”
This moment reminds me of last fall when he and I followed a bloodthirsty group of football boys into the woods at the lake. When they chased us out, we jumped in his 4Runner.
“Bella, I’m going to need you to trust me to get us out of this. Can
you do that
?”
I could hear the guys gaining on us. I remember yelling,
“Do
something! What’s your plan
?”
“This
.” And he leaned in and kissed the life out of me. Fireworks zinged and popped in my head, and I just dove in and went along with it. For survival’s sake, of course.
I wonder if he’s thinking of that now. Or if he ever does.
“Bella . . . Bella?”
Luke tugs on my hand, and I realize he’s been talking. “Um, yes. I agree.”
I hear his small laugh. “You’re not paying attention. I just asked you if you wanted to go home and snort wet spaghetti noodles up your nose.”
I tug his hand right back. “Testing me?”
“Yeah, and you failed.” He keeps walking and pulling me along. “I need you to be on your A game tonight. Just in case we have to make an emergency dash back to the car.”
And in the dark I see Luke turn his head and look at me. Really look at me. And I know he remembers that night. My cheeks warm, and I smile at him.
“You ready?” he whispers.
For you? For this? To tell you I don’t believe you were a willing participant
in Ashley’s kiss
? “I think I might be.”
Luke watches me for a suspended moment. For a slip of a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. He reaches out a hand . . .
. . . and points beyond me. “Right this way.” His attention refocused, he guides me off the road and through some trees. “Watch your step.” He shines his flashlight on the ground as we traipse over grass that rises to my bare calves.
A few minutes later he’s turned the light off, and I know we’re almost there.
“Shhh.” He pulls me around a tall pine and points to the left.
I peek around, and there, illuminated in their own spotlight, are Red and Stewart. Both stand with shovels in hand, knee-deep in the wet grass, sending the dirt flying into the air. They really are digging into that grave. If I were Catholic, I’d totally be crossing myself here. This is unholy! It’s sacrilegious! It’s . . . making me glad I slipped my camera into my pocket.
I watch in stunned silence for a few moments as the two plunge their shovels into the earth over and over. If I had any doubts they were capable of anything as vile as murder before, I don’t doubt it now.
“Can’t you dig any faster?” Red yells, his head barely visible over the ground.
“I’m going as fast as I can. I’ve been digging thirty minutes longer than you.”
My left leg is tingling and numb by the time I hear a shovel hit metal.
“Got it!” Stewart yells. “Not much longer now.”
Good. Because I seriously have to pee.
Time creeps in slow motion, and finally the digging stops.
“You do it.”
“No. You’re the oldest. You knew her better.”
Silence. Red mumbles something insulting to his son, then I hear the chill-inducing creak of the lid.
Stewart yelps like a girl.
“Would you shut up?” His dad bellows. “All we need is the cops out here.”
“S-S-She looks—”
“Dead?”
Come on. One of you admit you killed her. Say something
.
“Check out her neck,” Red barks. “Hurry up.”
Luke and I glance at one another as whining noises come from Stewart. Oh, to be able to see in that hole. Well, not see Betty. But to spy on those two buffoons—that would be priceless.
“I don’t see anything.”
“You know you’re going to have to check in her blouse.”
“It’s not here, Dad.”
“Check again!”
“Fine . . . oh, sick.” Stewart’s dry heaving noises have me turning my face into Luke’s shoulder. He rests a hand on my head, his mouth grim.
“Step back. Can’t you do anything? Let me see her.” More rustling around and grunting. “Nothing.”
“I told you,” comes Stewart’s wounded voice.
“I don’t understand. The map said it was around her heart.”
I lift my head from Luke’s shoulder, and we share a look.
Around
her heart
? What does that mean? And what part of the map are they talking about? That’s not on the version we have.
“You’re sure that’s what it said?” Red asks.
“I saw it, Dad. I saw it with my own eyes before that dog took off with it. But that’s all I remember.”
That’s
why they wanted the dog. Because Peg somehow had the other half of the map. But wait . . . if Stewart saw it before the dog ran off. I gasp as the thought hits, and Luke plants his hand over my mouth.
Ten minutes later we’re shut safely in the SUV, and I give voice to one of the racing thoughts in my head. “Stewart either killed Betty or was in her trailer soon after.”
Luke starts the engine. “Did you come up with that before or after you bit my hand?”
“I couldn’t breathe.”
“Likely story.” He backs out of the field and steers us onto the dirt road. “If I have rabies, I’m giving Ashley all your assignments.”
At ten o’clock, I’m in my car driving back out to Dolly’s. When I wheel into the drive, most of the cars are gone. Budge’s hearse is absent. No doubt he took Robbie home to be put to bed. But Mom’s Tahoe is still here.
“Did you come back for more cake?” Dolly asks as I enter the living room.
“Um . . . came by to see if you needed any help cleaning up.”
A brow lifts toward her teased bangs. “You came all this way to sweep and scrub down some tables?”
“Okay, I really just wanted to talk to Cherry about a few things.”
Dolly jerks her head toward the back door. “She’s outside feeding the dog. I swear, lately she gives her enough food to feed an entire kennel of Labradors.”
I find Cherry by the pool, swishing her legs in the water as Peg rests nearby.
She looks up and smiles. “You’re back?”
I ease down beside her on legs stiff from standing up so long. I weigh the contents of my brain, trying to gauge how much to tell her. How do you break it to someone that their parent-figure’s grave was broken into?
“Cherry . . . Luke and I saw something pretty disturbing tonight.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you were still here when Breath of Death sang Clay Aiken during karaoke.”
I blink twice. “Okay, though it seems impossible, I witnessed something even more frightening than that.” I explain the scene Luke brought me to. I give Cherry a moment to absorb it.
“Why would Stewart and Red do such a horrible thing?” Her face is pale in the dim pool lights.
“They’re looking for something. Whatever they’ve been digging for all over town, they were convinced it was actually
on
Betty.” But if one of them killed her, wouldn’t he have noticed?
“What do you think they’re looking for?”
“I don’t know. They said it was ‘around her heart.’”
Cherry’s feet still. “Look through town. Tear it apart. But the answer you seek. Is circled ’round my heart.”
The air in my lungs stops. “What did you say?”
Cherry turns sad eyes to me. “It’s the other half of the map.”
“H-how could you know that?”
“The dog.” She trails her hand down Peg’s furry head. “She was gone for an entire day last week. I was crazy with worry, and it’s not like I could ask anyone if they had seen her. But she came back to me.” She pats Peg’s neck, and her ID charm chimes in the breeze. “She’s so smart like that.”
“And . . . ?”
“And she brought back the other half of the map.” Cherry digs into the pocket of her shorts and pulls out a gnarled piece of paper. “It’s the rest of it.”
I unfold it and read the handwritten script.
Look through town. Tear it apart. But the answer you seek. Is circled
’round my heart
.
“It’s in Betty’s handwriting.”
“They didn’t find anything tonight.”
Cherry nods. “I’m scared, Bella.”
“Maybe they’ll find this hidden treasure or whatever, and then it will be over.”
She lifts her eyes to mine. “That’s not when it ends, and you know it.”
I take a deep breath. “Then when do you think it’s over?”
She stares into the darkness of the pool. “When I’m dead.”
I
don’t work at the carnival again until Tuesday. And by the time the three o’clock bell rings at school, my nerves are as fried as a funnel cake.
So many questions. Who put my flashlight on my clown uniform? Red? Stewart? Both? And if they do know I’m onto them, then why not just come out and say it? Why keep me around?
And as possessive of the carnival as Red is, why would he want to sell it now? Maybe he wants to get an eight-to-five gig in an office and provide a stable home for Cherry. Yeah, right. And I like K-Mart.
And this map? Where’s this riddle going to lead us? Ever since Sunday night, that little rhyme of Betty’s has been bouncing around in my brain. Circled ’round her heart? Why couldn’t she have just said, “Hey, go to the water tower and take five steps. There it is.” I mean, seriously, who hides clues in tacky poetry?
I drive straight home to check in with my mom and make myself a PB&J sandwich for work. The first week on the job, I ate dinner every night at the carnival. But a girl can’t live on Sprite and hamburgers alone. Though I wouldn’t mind trying.
I park the Bug in the back next to Budge’s hearse and watch Robbie hop off the porch and do a double roll into the grass.
“Hey, Robbie!” I call. “Are you off to save the world?”
He squats low, his hands in karate chop position. “Yeah. I got secret intel that my cow needs me.”
Every kid needs a pet. I have my cat. Lindy has a Lab. Ruthie has a lizard. But Robbie? His is of the bovine variety.
My stepbrother’s red cape flutters in the warm breeze. “I have to be on my guard in case there’s kryptonite on my path.”
“Is that what you’re calling cow poop these days?”
With arms outstretched, he flies away to save those in need, those in trouble, those who eat from troughs.
I open the screen door and step into the kitchen. Mom sits at the table, a pencil poised over her notebook. “Studying?”
She looks up and smiles. “Hey, sweetie. Yeah, I have my final Thursday.” She pats the seat beside her. “How was your day? You look tired.”
Can’t imagine why. “Mom, what’s going on with you and Jake?”
The pencil
thunk
s as she sets it down. “Nothing for you to be worried about. We’re just adjusting to his new career.”
“You mean
he’s
adjusting. We’re just . . . here.”
Mom’s forehead wrinkles, and I wonder if she ever misses her quarterly Botox gifts from dad. “Bella, basically overnight he went from working in a factory to being a national star. Do you realize by next Christmas they’ll have a Captain Iron Jack action figure?”
“Good. If we get one then he’ll always be with us.” I wince at the vinegar on my tongue.
Lord, why are nosiness and sass my spiritual
gifts? Aren’t I supposed to have something like peace, goodness,
patience, and all that other sweet stuff
?
Mom shuts her textbook and puts her hand on mine. “I know I brought you to Truman on what seemed like a whim. But I knew marrying Jake was the right thing to do. I still believe that. And even though we didn’t sign up for the way things are now, we have to have faith that it’s all going to work out.”
“I just don’t see the end of it, though, Mom. Jake’s just getting started. Let’s say they retire him in ten years. Can you live like this that long?”
She nibbles on her bottom lip, her eyes on the table. “You and I aren’t the only ones who didn’t get what we bargained for. Jake spends every night on a bus. He wakes up each day and doesn’t remember what town he’s in. He misses his family, Bella.”
“Then why doesn’t he quit? Doesn’t he feel guilty that you’re the one taking care of his sons?” A year ago my mom and I couldn’t have had a conversation like this. We barely knew each other. But now . . . we’re friends. It’s strange. But I like it.
“We’re praying about it.”
“For how long? When is enough
enough
?”
Mom leans over and curls her arm around me. I smile at the smell of her perfume, a fragrance she’s worn all my life. It’s just about the only trace of Manhattan left of her.