All the Little Liars (28 page)

“Punch them in the nose,” she said stoutly. “I promise I will.”

Aubrey looked a bit shocked, but Emily, after a moment's hesitation, said, “You do that, Liza. Turning the other cheek isn't working with them.”

There were going to be some interesting discussions in the Scott household in the next few days, but that was not my concern. I let it float away on the outgoing tide of tension. I was replacing that with well-being and relief. It was amazing how the world had changed in less than an hour. I said good-bye to Bryan, who told me to call him if we wanted him present when the police interviewed Phillip. I promised him I would, and I thanked him.

Once in the car, we could not think of anything to say, which was odd. There was too much … or not enough. “Phillip,” I said. “We want to know all about it, but you don't need to tell us now. We just want you to feel clean again, and we want to feed you.”

“I'll eat
anything,
” he said, as if he were swearing on a stack of Bibles. “Even asparagus. Even salmon croquettes.” He had not liked my salmon croquettes to an extreme degree.

“I have to tell you that your mom and your dad are both in town,” I said. The bliss of anticipation disappeared from Phillip's face. But I had to warn him, or perhaps prepare him would be more accurate.

“They can wait,” he said, pushing his problems with them away. “For now, shower, shampoo, and soap. And food. Any food.”

Though Phillip had no coat on, he did not seem to be feeling the cold at first. But halfway home, he began shivering. We turned the heat on high, and I tossed him a lap robe Robin kept in the car in winter, but he couldn't stop. “I'm not cold,” he said. “I don't know what's happening.”

“It's a reaction,” Robin said. “In a while you'll be fine.”

“What day is it?” Phillip asked suddenly.

“It's Christmas Eve,” I said, surprised to realize it, myself.

“I thought so,” he said. “I tried to keep track of the days. I was scared I might have miscounted. I was scared we'd be in there for Christmas. Or he'd kill us all before then.”

I couldn't imagine how scary it must have been.

But in two more minutes we were home and hustling Phillip into the house. He went to his room briefly to grab clean clothes. Then he vanished into the hall bathroom. The water started thundering down in the shower before he could have taken off his nasty clothes, and I smiled to myself. I had been afraid I'd never hear Phillip wasting hot water again.

I began pulling food out of the refrigerator. Now the food friends had brought us would be put to good use.

 

Chapter Fifteen

An hour later, Philip was sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. He had consumed lasagna, creamed spinach, cheesy carrots, and a bowl of bread pudding, all with a truly inspiring single-minded intensity. His hair was clean, he'd scrubbed and shaved, and he was wearing clean clothes. He'd asked me to throw away the clothes he'd worn all during his captivity. I'd put them right in a trash bag and tossed them out in the garbage can.

Phillip hadn't wanted to talk.

But now he sat back on his stool, sighed, and looked about ten years old … for just a second. “That was the best food I ever ate,” he said simply. “We didn't get fed much. I'm so full I think my stomach will pop.”

Robin and I both perked up, since we were finally going to hear what had happened.

The doorbell rang at that moment, of course. Not at all to my surprise, the callers were the FBI agents. Bernadette Crowley was impassive, but Les Van Winkle gave me quite a steely look.

I did not quiver in my shoes.

My brother was home. If I hadn't done what I did, he'd still be in the basement.

“We're here to talk to Phillip,” Crowley said. “Phillip, it's good to meet you face-to-face after looking for you. I'm Special Agent Bernadette Crowley, and this is Special Agent Les Van Winkle.”

“The FBI? Wow,” Phillip said, impressed. He slid off the stool and shook their hands, I waved everyone to the two big couches and the armchairs. Robin and I flanked Phillip, while the agents took the other couch.

“First off, do I need to get our lawyer here for this?” I asked.

Van Winkle looked surprised. “No, this is just a preliminary interview to get Phillip's story down.”

“I'm afraid you're going to have to repeat it a few times to law enforcement bodies,” Crowley said, after she and Van Winkle had turned down my offer of coffee or a soda. “But we need to hear it.”

“Okay,” Phillip said. “What do you want to know?” He had tensed up again.

“Let me ask a question or two first.” Crowley smiled. “Why did Clayton Harrison keep you prisoner for so long?”

That was an odd question, I thought, but I suddenly found myself wondering the same thing. Why, indeed?

“He was waiting for his passport,” Phillip said, with no hesitation. “He'd lost his a month ago. He'd already applied for a replacement since he was going on a trip to Peru in June. Since he was leaving the country as soon as he got it, he was waiting for it to come.”

The agents glanced at each other. “He told you this?” Van Winkle asked.

“Yeah, he did. He said as soon as his passport came he'd be gone out of the U.S., and his parents would ‘discover' us in the basement and let us go.”

“Did the older Harrisons come down there at any time? Did you see them?”

“No,” Phillip said. “But Clayton went upstairs to shower and change clothes. Just not when the cook or the cleaning crew or whoever was in the house. Because he was supposed to be missing,” Phillip added, in case the agents hadn't registered that crucial point.

“Do you know for a fact that his parents knew you were in the basement?”

“They had to know,” Phillip said. For the first time, he began to get excited. “For one thing, though they didn't feed us much, we did get food maybe once a day. And he sure didn't fix it or go to buy it. He was only out of the basement at night, when he went up to shower or whatever. And we were locked in, of course.”

“How did Josh get hurt?” Van Winkle asked.

“He got a little hurt when we were taken,” Phillip said. He looked ashamed. “If we'd all rushed Clayton then, none of this would've happened, and maybe Tammy would still be alive. We all jumped out of the car when Tammy got hit. Josh was slow getting back in the car to drive. Clayton clipped him on the side of the head with the gun.”

“And Josh was hurt a second time?”

“He lunged for Clayton on a bathroom break, and the gun went off. I can't believe the Harrisons could miss that,” Phillip said.

Even in a house as large as the Harrison mansion, and in a soundproofed basement, I thought a gunshot would be audible.

“But you don't know that they were in the house at that moment,” Crowley suggested.

“They might not have been. They didn't come down. Clayton made us drag Josh back into the storeroom. Later he threw in some first-aid stuff.”

I put my hand over Phillip's and squeezed. I tried to imagine being fifteen and handling the shooting of my friend without any expert help or any adult backup. My hat was off to Phillip. For the first time, I believed my brother would be fine … not because we would help him, but because he was innately strong.

“Just to be clear, you did not see Clayton's parents with your own eyes at any time?”

Phillip looked taken aback. “No,” he said slowly. “I did not.”

“Does that mean they're going to get away with this?” Robin said. He was not bothering to repress his anger.

“They may,” Crowley said. “They can pretend they didn't know Clayton was keeping hostages, that they were only concealing their son because he was in trouble. As his parents, they were determined to keep him from harm.”

“From prosecution,” I said.

“Yes. From prosecution.”

“Knowing that he had committed murder and kidnapped four people?”

“Clayton says that Connie killed Tammy Ribble.” Van Winkle looked off into the distance as if he could not even dignify that statement with the slightest appearance of belief.

“She did,” Phillip said.

I gasped out loud, and warned myself to be still. Phillip didn't need an audience to react to the drama. He needed us to hear what had happened in a factual way.

“So tell us what happened that afternoon,” Crowley said. “I'll record it, if you don't mind.”

“No,” Phillip said. “I'll only be telling the truth.” He took a deep breath. “I was with Josh,” he began. “We were supposed to pick up Joss at the practice field after she'd given Liza her private lesson.”

“How well did you know Liza?” Van Winkle asked very quietly. He didn't want Phillip's stride to be broken.

“I had met her at my sister's church,” Phillip said. “She was just a kid, four years younger than me. But Josh and Joss had told me what was happening to her at school, and I thought that was shitty. Those girls were just bitches in training, as far as I'm concerned. Liza is a
nice
kid. And she couldn't stop them. No one could.”

Phillip looked sideways at me, and I saw the memory in his eyes. He'd hitched a ride with a trucker, who had made such forceful advances that Phillip had been forced to abandon his backpack and run to hide in the woods. Phillip knew about not having control over circumstances.

“So you were at the field…” Crowley murmured.

“And the three witches walked over from the school,” Phillip said. “They were trying to make Liza cry. I gave them a talking-to. They can't do anything to me.”

Marlea had said she was going to try, however. I wouldn't forget that.

“And then?”

“Liza didn't want to be left at the field with them, and her mother was late coming. Sarah had finished up with the girl she was coaching, and she'd be leaving soon, too. Liza left a message on her mom's phone, and Josh said we could give her a ride. We all got in the car. Josh and I were in the front seat, and Joss was in back with Liza. We thought she'd be more comfortable sitting with another girl.”

“We heard she had a big crush on you?” Crowley asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Phillip turned red. “But she wasn't clingy and obnoxious. Just … she was pretty cool for an eleven-year-old.”

“All right. So you four were in Josh's car and you went to the hair salon?”

“First we went by the Scotts' house,” Phillip said. “But her mom and dad weren't there, or at the church.”

The agents both made notes.

“So after that, Joss started freaking out because she had to be at the salon to get her hair cut, and she was late. She was texting Tammy on the way.”

“Why?” Van Winkle asked.

“Just to tell her we were almost there. Tammy's sister had dropped her off. She was waiting.”

The agents nodded.

“So we were in that little road behind the beauty shop,” Phillip said. “Joss said she could go in that way.” His words came slower and his face showed stress. “And Tammy came out of the back door and ran over to the car to hug Joss. You know…?”

“That they were a couple, yes,” Crowley said.

“Okay. So Joss was about to get out of the car after talking to Liza a second more, to make sure Liza was okay about … well, about Joss not being in the car with her. Josh and I hadn't even thought about that.” Phillip shook his head. “But Liza said she'd be okay, that she'd told her mom who she was with in her message.” He stopped and took a long, shuddering breath. It was obvious he was coming to something he didn't want to relive. I was scared to put my arm around him or hold his hand. I wanted him to know that I was there for him, but I didn't want to undermine his independence when he needed to be strong.

“Just then, Connie and Clayton pulled up in Clayton's car. Connie was driving. I don't know why. Clayton was about to explode. He has a bad temper,” Phillip said. “He jumped out of the car and started saying this awful stuff to Tammy and Joss. His little sister—Marlea—had told Clayton that Joss had made a pass at her! What a stupid thing to believe. I don't know why Clayton was so crazy. It was like it was a personal slap in the face to him, somehow.” Philip took another deep breath. “Joss wouldn't do anything like that. She's not a child molester. She loved Tammy. But somehow Marlea had made Clayton believe that shit.”

“What happened after he started yelling?” Van Winkle said.

“So Clayton slapped Joss in the face—she was out of the car—and Tammy jumped him. She was beating on him.” Philip smiled faintly.

“With her fists?” Van Winkle kept writing.

“Oh, yeah, none of us were armed for riding around in Lawrenceton,” Phillip said with elaborate sarcasm. “But Clayton punched Tammy in the face, and we all started to get out of the car to help her and Joss—it just all happened so fast. When Clayton hit Tammy in the jaw, she kind of staggered back in front of Clayton's car, and Connie pressed the accelerator and she hit her.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“And Joss screamed, or she tried to, but no sound would come out. Connie had stopped the car and she was just staring at nothing. And Tammy was dead.” Phillip didn't seem to know that a tear was rolling down his cheek. “Clayton ran to his car and got a gun.”

“He had it in the car?” Crowley murmured.

“I think in the glove compartment. He told Connie to leave, to drive back to his house without stopping or phoning anyone. Then he got in the backseat of Josh's car and put the gun to his head, and said if Josh didn't drive, he would shoot him. Clayton would shoot Josh,” Phillip said, so we'd all keep it straight.

“So we got to Clayton's house. He got us all to go downstairs, and Connie helped him. He handed her a little gun, too. I don't know what kind. When we were all herded into the little storeroom off the rec room—he got Connie to throw out a lot of the holiday stuff to make room—Clayton shut the door and locked it.”