Dead Girls Don't Lie (24 page)

I hear Skyler’s truck roar to life. I turn around to pick up Claire’s clothes, and stop when I see the picture. He’s blown it up big. I’m sitting in the meadow, my hair fanned out around my face like a halo in the moonlight. My eyes are closed and I look like I’m having a good dream. Underneath the picture he’s written, “My angel.”

I walk outside and break into a run, meeting Skyler and the truck behind the barn. “I’m so dead, so dead, so dead. My dad is going to send me to a convent and we aren’t even Catholic,” I moan as Skyler drives toward Claire’s house.

Skyler looks scared too. “I’m sorry. I should have woken you up sooner. I’m so stupid.”

He pulls around to the alleyway where Evan and the other guys were hiding. I stop at the gate; the house looks quiet. I turn over my shoulder and mouth “bye” to Skyler.

He leans his head out the window of his truck. “Sorry again.”

He looks so miserable that I turn back around, stand on my tiptoes, kiss him, and whisper, “It’s okay. I’m good. Thanks for giving me a night to remember, I mean, a night to forget.”

He smiles and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “No. Thank you.” When I turn back to the house I think I hear him whisper, “Love you.”

I keep walking without turning around, too embarrassed to answer that, but I’m glowing, floating, one hundred percent in love. Nothing in my life before compares to what it feels like to be with Skyler. It’s like he fills a place in my heart that I didn’t know was empty.

I head across the lawn, hoping the back door isn’t locked, but maybe not even caring if I get caught. Then I hear Claire hissing, “Jaycee, over here.” She’s on the trampoline in the corner of the yard, tucked into a sleeping bag. “Where have you been, young lady?” I keep my eye on the house as I make my way to the trampoline. “We’re telling my mom my room was too hot so we came out here,” Claire says. “All night, huh?”

“We fell asleep,” I say, not wanting to explain anything, not wanting to mess up my great mood with Claire’s prying. I climb on the trampoline.

“Don’t make it move,” Taylor groans. “Oh, I’m gonna hurl again.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve ‘fallen asleep’ a few times too,” Claire smirks.

“Nothing happened,” I insist, my face turning red. Why does she have to turn everything good into something that sounds dirty?

Claire looks me over, probably taking in my change in outfit. “Yeah, just like nothing happened the night of Evan’s last party.”

“Wait, what?” I stop, halfway on the trampoline.

“Don’t make it move,” Taylor moans again.

Claire gives her and then me a disgusted look. “We all know that Skyler took you home that night, and that he didn’t come back.”

“Nothing happened that night either.” I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that Skyler didn’t go back to the party. He said it wasn’t his thing.

She pats the other sleeping bag. “Well, whatever
didn’t
happen, you’d better get in before my mom comes looking for us. You can share all the gory details later.”

“Nothing—” I start again.

“Shut u-u-up,” Taylor moans again. “I’m gonna hurl.”

At breakfast Claire’s mom cusses us out. “You girls shouldn’t have gone outside to sleep. It’s not safe. There have been too many bad things going on around here lately.”

I glance at Taylor, who’s staring at the french toast Mrs. Rallstrom made for us like it’s the enemy. She’s so obviously hungover that I can’t believe Mrs. Rallstrom hasn’t picked up on it.

Mrs. Rallstrom turns to me. “Your dad called this morning, hon. He said that things got held over until today and so he stayed with a friend last night. He sent two messages: ‘Don’t forget about the cleanup at Araceli’s today’ and ‘I trust you.’” Claire snorts into her juice. Her mom gives her a stern look. “I can give you a ride home whenever you’d like to go.”

“Thank you,” I say, but it doesn’t come out very sincere. I’m remembering what Claire’s mom said about Araceli at the church.

“What about you two?” Claire’s mom turns to Claire and Taylor. “I think it would be nice if you went too.”

“I have to work,” Claire says.

“I don’t feel too good, Mrs. Rallstrom.” Taylor punctuates that remark by running for the bathroom.

“You girls didn’t leave the dip I made out all night and then eat it, did you?” Mrs. Rallstrom cringes at the sounds coming from the bathroom. “It’s supposed to be refrigerated.”

The cleanup at Araceli’s starts after lunch, so Claire takes me home on her way to work.

I bring the white dress with me. When I get home, I spray the stains on the back, thinking about where the mud and grass came from, remembering how it felt to lie down in Skyler’s arms, how it felt to have him kiss me. I think about the last thing he said to me. An odd mix of guilt and elation churns in my stomach. Is this what love feels like?

While the clothes wash I take a long shower, enjoying the quiet of the house, privacy, and freedom. Then I go to my dresser to find clothes, but I stop before I get to it. Something about the way the drawer is half-open looks off. I open it. My clothes look like they’ve been moved around, unfolded and pushed into the corners. I open my next drawer and find the same thing. My hands go cold. Someone was in my room.
Someone touched my things and pawed through my clothes. I try to convince myself that it was Dad, spying on me, but I don’t think it was.

I pull the bottom drawer open and dig through it, getting more and more frantic, until I finally pull it all the way out and empty it onto the floor. The pieces of Rachel’s necklace and the paper are both gone.

I sink to my knees in the mess. Why did I leave them here?

Did some stranger come into my house and go through my things? One of the gang members? I dig again, looking for a familiar symbol, dreading the thought of finding it, but it isn’t here. Maybe it was someone else.

I sit back and think. Maybe it was Eduardo or Evan. Both of them were interested in what I found in the fireplace. Both of them knew I wasn’t home last night.

I think about what Eduardo said about me not being alone, it’s daylight and all the doors are locked, but now I’m afraid. I pick up my phone and text Skyler.

What r u up to?

He doesn’t text back.

I breathe in, walk around my whole room, trying to see what else has been moved. My jewelry box has been rifled through. The pile of books Dad left for me to read has been restacked neatly. I know I left them scattered on the floor and under my bed.

I try Skyler again.

I need to see you.

He doesn’t answer.

I stare at my phone, trying to shake the creepy feeling that permeates everything around me. I go to the front of the house and make sure the door is locked. I go to the back door and do the same. It’s too early to leave for Araceli’s house, even if I am walking. I don’t want to get there and have to hang around Rachel’s mom, trying to figure out what to say.

I need to figure this out before it gets worse. Now, while Dad is gone, safe in Spokane. I get out the paper I stole from Evan’s room. The picture and three words, “making the cut,” stand out.

Making the cut
. Skyler said it meant cutting your jersey number into your flesh to prove your loyalty to the team. I go through the pictures Evan has of the football team, one by one, to see if I can tell if any of them have scars that are numbers, but none of the pictures are big enough. Then I see something else that makes me stop. He’s standing behind Evan and Mitch. His face is turned to the side in profile, a little blurry, and I’ve only ever seen one other picture of him, but I know it’s Manny.

Evan and Mitch are both wearing captain’s jerseys, so the picture had to be taken at the beginning of last year, their senior year. The one Manny is wearing is a solid-black practice jersey, the kind of jersey the guys wear when they first start football, before they have their own uniform.

Manny was trying out for the football team? It seems like a stretch to me. A former gang member, someone who was hiding out, getting involved in high school sports. But maybe
it isn’t such a stretch, especially if he was trying to prove to Rachel that he was staying here.

I think about what Skyler said about the cuts. If Rachel had seen a number carved into Manny’s chest, then seeing Peyton’s number scar would definitely have freaked her out.

I dig my yearbook out of my closet and flip through the pages to the football team. I want to see if one of the pictures I saw in Skyler’s darkroom was Manny, but I don’t know how old the pictures were or what number Manny might have worn. I scan the team picture. Manny isn’t in it, but neither is Skyler. The picture must have been taken after Manny died and after Skyler broke his wrist.

I take a deep breath. There’s only one person who can help me. It’s time to test how far Skyler is willing to go on his promise. I need to see the pictures of Manny’s body to see if he had a number scar on his chest. I just hope I’m brave enough to see what Rachel saw. I write and erase the text three times before I hit send. I end up with:

If u can, I need to see the crime scene photos and autopsy report from when Manuel Romero was murdered.

Then I add:

Please. Luv u.

I brace myself for the questions that are sure to come back, because I just admitted that I’m not just looking into Rachel’s murder, but Manny’s too.

Skyler still doesn’t answer, so I go back to the yearbook, trying to put a timeline together. The football team starts practice a month before school starts, at the end of July. Manny
died three weeks later, the second week of August and the last week of summer vacation. Did Rachel know about Manny playing football, or did she find out about it when she saw his picture in Evan’s collage?

You wouldn’t approve of my methods
.

Is that why she went out with Evan? What was she trying to find out?

Evan keeps coming up in all of this, the date with Rachel, the night by the fireplace, the pictures in the darkroom, even in my dreams about the night at the old house.

I glance up at the clock to see what time it is, but I see something else, a face in my mirror. Someone is watching me. I freeze, wondering if this is what happened to Rachel, not paying attention and then there he was with a gun. I turn around slowly and face Evan.

Chapter 26

He taps on the window. “Open it.”

I shake my head, pointing at my bathrobe.

He rolls his eyes and slips his hand through the slit in my screen, like he already knew it was there, then he slides his fingers around the edge of my window and pushes it open. I back toward the other side of the room, but he doesn’t try to come in. “I knocked on the front door, but you didn’t hear me. What were you looking at that was so interesting?”

I step back, wondering how long he was watching me. “Why are you here?”

He arranges his face into a pseudo-innocent expression. “I thought you might like a ride to Araceli’s house, to help with the cleanup.” He indicates the helmet under his arm. “I brought my bike.” He grins again, sure that I’ll go with him.

“Where’s Skyler?” I ask suspiciously.

“Busted, thanks to you. He was supposed to finish that field last night. I woke up to him and Dad screaming at each other. I think he’s grounded until retirement.”

“He said he broke down, that he couldn’t finish because—”

“Yeah, Dad’s not buying that.” Evan doesn’t sound like he believes it either.

My heart hurts for Skyler, and I feel guilty for getting him in trouble. That must be why he hasn’t answered my texts. “Is he okay?”

“He’s survived worse. Besides, the smile on his face this morning makes me think it was worth it.” Evan’s expression makes me flush red. “But he’s cool with me giving you a ride. I told him I’m not interested in stealing his girlfriend.” He winks. “Get dressed. We’re late as it is.”

I check the time on my phone. He’s right, we are late. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I lost track of the time. “I’ll walk.”

“The cleanup will be over by then.” He has a point, and as much as I hate it, if I’m going to make it at all, it has to be with him.

“Give me ten minutes.” I shut the window in his face, hard, lock it, and pull down the blinds.

Even if we weren’t thirty minutes late, Evan’s bike would have made a scene when we got to Araceli’s house. As it is, everyone stops what they’re doing—painting or scrubbing graffiti or planting flowers—when Evan’s bike announces us with a roar of his engine and a cloud of smoke and dust.

I keep my eyes down but glance around to see who is here. The crowd is an interesting mix of people. There’s a big group from the town’s Mexican community, including Father
Joseph. There are a few kids from school and a handful of people from church, including Mrs. Francis and Mrs. O’Dell. I guess they’ll even do yard work to find something to gossip about. They already have their heads together, probably whispering about the way I arrived. Eduardo is here too, watching me as I dismount from Evan’s bike.

“Thanks,” I say, my eyes drawn to the number on Evan’s shoulder, a tattoo that might have started out as something he carved himself. I touch it. The number in the middle is raised like a scar, not just something made by a tattoo artist. Evan looks at me like he’s afraid of what I’ve seen, or what I’ve felt, but he doesn’t pull away until I do. When I look up, Eduardo is still watching us. He catches my eye and shakes his head at me before he goes back to scrubbing at some graffiti on the porch.

I put on my gardening gloves, step back, and take everything in. It hurts to be here again, but in a way it feels good; healing, to see people working together to repair the damage, like the “community” that they were talking about at the meeting. The police tape is gone, the yard has new flowers, and the graffiti is being scrubbed off. The broken window has been replaced with a new one that’s so shiny it stands in sharp contrast to the old windows all around it. The patchwork quilt is still there, attached somewhere inside to cover the window like a thick drape. I wonder how many people have driven out here to try to catch a glimpse of Rachel’s bedroom. Besides that, the only thing that looks really different is the door. Once it was a brilliant red, and now it’s black. It looks ominous, a permanent reminder that something bad happened here.