White Lies (23 page)

“Besides,” Jack said, “I was getting a vibe from him.”

“What kind of vibe?”

“Nothing specific. But he wouldn't look me in the eyes.”

“You threw him out of the party, Jack. What do you expect? A warm hug? If I was him, I wouldn't feel comfortable around you either.”

“Maybe. But I don't trust him.”

“That doesn't mean he saw anything.”

Jack studied her for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then he bent forward and kissed her on the lips. He was still holding his drink. She could hear the ice cubes clink. When he pulled back, Katrina smiled at him, but it wasn't a real smile, because she had experienced none of the feelings she had the night before.

Just after sunrise, while everyone else was sleeping, Jack drove the Porsche through the early morning fog to the clearing where he and Katrina had abandoned the Buick. The blue sedan was where they'd left it, though with the addition of a coat of dew that misted the windows as if two teenagers had been making out in the backseat all night.

Jack put down all the windows, put the transmission in neutral, then pushed the car onto the slab of rock that led to the lake. He gave it a strong shove. It rolled away from him, bouncing down the slope, the undercarriage scraping against the rock, throwing up a sheet of sparks. It splashed into the water, which washed over the hood and flooded the interior. The car floated in one spot for a while, defiant, until the engine dragged the front end down. Then the entire thing sank from view. Jack watched the spot where it had once been until the trapped air had stopped bubbling to the surface and the water became mirror smooth once more.

All evidence of what he'd done in the woods the night before magically erased.

In the vaporous calm that followed, he returned to the Porsche, satisfied with his work so far.

When Katrina woke up light was shining through the bedroom loft window. She could hear sprightly voices floating up from the lake. Her first thought: rise and shine, time to get packed and clean up the cabin. Then the events of the night before hit her like a slap across the face, only this slap numbed her entire body. Charlie's bloodied corpse. Jack chasing the Good Samaritan. The truck on fire. For a long, dazed moment, Katrina tried to tell herself it was all a bad dream, and she half convinced herself of it. But her memories were far too elaborate to be any dream. It was reality, cold and brutal. She made a sound that wasn't quite a word, but the emotion was crystal clear. Misery. She wanted to curl up into a ball and pretend last night never happened, but she couldn't do that, couldn't run or hide from this, so she sat up, placing her feet on the floor. She took a steadying breath. She had to face the day. Oddly, she realized she was almost excited to do so. Today they would discover whether or not the police suspected foul play in Charlie's death. By the afternoon she would either be in police custody or free. She felt like a gambler who had just placed her entire life savings on one bet. Terrified, slightly nauseous, but excited nevertheless.

She climbed out of bed—still fully clothed, she noted—and went downstairs. Monica was in the kitchen, boiling water on the stove's ancient burner. “Where's Jack?” Katrina asked right away.

“No idea,” Monica said. “I've been up for about an hour and haven't seen him. Must be an early riser. But you don't know? Didn't you?—well, it's none of my business. But I thought that
maybe you two would have both slept upstairs? Did you sleep separately?”

The truth was Katrina had no idea where Jack had slept, whether with her or on his own. After the kiss halfway down to the lake, she'd told him she was going to get some water. She'd wanted some space. She hadn't been ready for the kiss. Not then. Not until she'd sorted her feelings out better. Once alone, she'd gone up to the loft and, emotionally drained, was out in seconds. “I drank too much,” she told Monica by way of explanation. “Was out like a light. I'm not sure where he slept. What about Zach and Crystal? Are they around?”

“They took off again last night. I'm not sure where. Where's there to go, right? It's crazy. Like they have some secret love nest. Oh, I'm sorry! I shouldn't say that. I wouldn't want Zach dating my little sister either. Dating? No—I didn't meant that either! I'm sure they're just friends.”

Katrina merely nodded, realizing how trivial such concerns still felt. The water came to a boil. Monica made them both mugs of instant coffee. Katrina's mug had the red-and-blue Esso logo on it, below the words “Thankful Tankful ‘87.” Probably a promotional giveaway from the gas giant. She wondered if it had meant anything special to Charlie, had any sentimental value? A profound sadness welled up inside her.

Monica withdrew a box of Special K from her backpack, along with a carton of UHT milk. She offered Katrina a bowl, but Katrina declined. She was far too upset to stomach anything. While Monica ate her cereal, they made small talk, mostly about the party— apparently a couple teachers had gone skinny dipping—but Katrina wasn't listening. Her mind was a million miles away.

At half past eight, Jack came through the front door, carrying two brown paper bags from McDonald's. Katrina greeted his arrival with conflicting emotions. Relief he was back from wherever he'd gone. Pity for him that she'd dragged him into this god-awful mess. Even fear, mild and uncertain, but there nonetheless. It wasn't a fear for him but a fear of him. The way he'd acted last
night—his calm coolness, his rational persuasion, his apparent lack of remorse at what they'd done—it was not normal and thus somehow frightening. Nevertheless, more than any of that she felt a burning curiosity. Had he spoken to the Good Samaritan? Was their secret still safe? Was the red-haired man going to hold up his end of the deal?

She saw the newspaper rolled up beneath his arm and her breath caught in her throat.
Had the media reported the car accident? What was the verdict
?

“Hope you two haven't eaten.” Jack said, grinning, and he seemed as upbeat as usual. He looked around the empty room. “Where is everyone else?”

“Down at the dock,” Monica said. “Apparently morning is the best time to fish.”

“Tell them there's food here if they want it.” He looked directly at Katrina. She couldn't read anything in his eyes. “Want to come outside for a minute, Kat? I have something to show you.”

It was another beautiful day. The sun was burning brightly in the cobalt-blue sky, lighting the timbered slopes of the Cascade Mountains a brilliant emerald green. Puffy clouds drifted lazily overhead on unseen currents. There were a few canoes out on the lake, as well as a motorboat, sounding like an ambitious bee in the otherwise still morning air. Jack stopped when they were a safe distance from the cabin and held up the paper that had been beneath his arm. It was the
Leavenworth Echo
. “Nothing in here,” he said with a triumphant smile.

“Is that good?” she asked hopefully.

“Accidents aren't newsworthy.”

“But that's just the
Echo
. Isn't there a Skykomish paper?”

“I didn't see one. But I also have the
Everett Herald
and the
Wenatchee World
in my car.”

“And nothing?”

“Zip. I went through every page.”

“Do you think it just didn't make the morning edition?”

“It's possible. But I doubt it. Whoever we saw behind us last night would have reported the burning truck. Editors would have
had all night to get the story together. As for that other loose end, I returned the car to our red-haired friend. I repeated my threat. His lips are sealed. He won't be saying a thing. Trust me on that.”

It's over then
, Katrina thought, overwhelmed with relief, although the relief was tainted with the guilt of knowing they'd gotten away with something very wrong.

“So what does this mean?” she asked, wanting Jack to confirm what she had just concluded.

“It means,” he told her, “last night never happened.”

Zach was stretched out on the rocky outcrop to the west of Katrina's cabin. Or whoever's cabin it belonged to. He'd pressed Crystal about that slipup the night before, but she hadn't given him anything more. She was beside him now, her head on his chest. The morning sunshine was warm on his face. There was a refreshing breeze coming off the water. It should have been a pleasant Sunday morning. A picture-postcard morning. But it wasn't. How could it be after what he'd seen? He'd witnessed a goddamn murder. A murder he'd never reported. He'd been close. Very close. He'd pressed 9-1-1 into his phone, but he'd backed out before he'd pressed Send. Why? He'd asked himself that a dozen times since, and he kept coming up with the same answer.

Crystal.

He liked her a lot. It was crazy, but he did. He'd known that as soon as they'd started talking down at the dock. It wasn't because she was Katrina's sister or anything like that. They simply connected. And therein lay the problem. If he turned Katrina and Jack in, he could kiss whatever he had going with Crystal goodbye. Girls weren't so interested in guys who sent their older sisters to prison. It was a selfish reason, he knew. But the truth was he didn't know that old man from squat. If he reported the murder, he would be alienating the first person he truly liked—and who liked him—in years. Besides, it wasn't as if he was going to keep the murder a secret forever. He was just going to be prudent about what he knew. Justice might be delayed, but it would be served eventually, he was pretty sure about that. What was that old expression by
Pope?
Wise men say only fools rush in?
No—that was Elvis.
For fools rush in where angels fear to tread
? Yeah, that was it. Zach was no angel, but he was no fool either.

So what was his next step then? He didn't know. But he would have to figure it out. And soon.

“What are you thinking about?” Crystal asked him, pushing herself up on an elbow.

“You,” he said.

She smiled. “Really? What about?”

“Just stuff.”

“Me too.”

“What kind of stuff?”

She shrugged. “You know. Like what's going to happen when I go back to college. Because, you know, you're still going to be here. What are we going to do?”

Despite his attraction to her, Zach knew he couldn't pursue anything with Crystal right now, not until this mess with Jack and Katrina was resolved—if he didn't turn out to be the bad guy and she still wanted to see him, that is. “We should get back to the cabin,” he said, sitting up. “Your sister probably wants to leave, and I have to see if I can catch a taxi with someone.”

“I'm going to be at Kat's all day. Why don't you come by after you get back?”

“I better not.”

“Oh.” She looked at him for a long time, reading between the lines. She got to her feet. “I think I should go.”

“I'll go back with you.”

“No. I'm fine.”

Zach watched her walk away, wondering what the hell he was doing.

Katrina glanced over her shoulder at Crystal, who was crammed into the backseat of the Porsche, looking out the window. She'd been unusually quiet all morning. “Anything wrong, Chris?” she asked.

Crystal seemed about to shake her head, but then she said, “You were right about that Zach guy. I should have stayed away from him.”

“What did he do?” Katrina demanded. The last thing she needed was for Zach to start screwing up her sister's life as well.

“Nothing.” She frowned. “I mean, we got along fantastic and everything, right? I know you said he's weird, but he's not. Not really. He's nice. Then this morning we went for a walk, hung out at the water. I asked him about, you know, about what's going to happen with us later on, because I'm at school and everything. And, well, he sort of brushed me off.”

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me. Okay? I don't need you to remind me.”

“Sorry, Chris. It's just that— Oh, I don't know. Forget it.”

“He has a few marbles loose,” Jack said.

“That's what you say,” Crystal said. “I don't think so. The thing is, I think I really liked him.”

“The best thing you can do, Chris,” Katrina told her, “is to forget about him. You're at college. It's a big place. You'll find someone else in no time.”

“Yeah, I know. I guess.” She didn't sound too convinced or happy about the prospect. “By the way, where are we? How much farther?”

“Almost there,” Jack said. “Another twenty minutes.”

Katrina asked, “What time is your bus again?”

“Whenever. They leave pretty regularly. Just drop me off at the station. I'll wait around.”

“You don't want to stay for dinner? We can make it early.”

“Nah. It's okay. I have all my stuff I brought with me anyway. I'll come back and visit again. I think I just want to go back to campus now.”

“I have a question for you,” Jack said, lifting his eyes to the rearview mirror. Katrina knew he'd been waiting the whole car ride to spring this. “It's about last night. When you and Zach met
us back at the cabin, just after everyone else had left on the bus, you said something about Zach following my friend's truck. But Zach said he was relieving himself. Which was it?”

“Why?”

“It's not a big deal. I'm just curious about something.”

“What?”

“It's complicated, Chris,” Katrina said. “Just tell Jack what he asked.”

She shrugged. “We were sitting down on the dock—the neighbor's dock—and this truck drove by. I thought Zach said something about seeing who it was. Maybe he didn't though. Maybe he just needed to use the bathroom. I can't remember.”

“Why would he have wanted to see who it was?” Katrina asked.