Of the Trees Page 23

  Cassie felt the burn of tears and kept her face between her arms. “I’m a freaking wreck,” she admitted. “I can’t stop picturing what could be happening to her, where she is—”

  Her voice broke, and Cassie stopped, knowing Rebecca understood. She felt the warm pressure of her friend’s hand on her back. “How are you doing?” Cassie asked.

  “Completely shitty,” Rebecca answered bluntly. Cassie turned her face toward her friend with a small smile. She barked out a rough laugh and Rebecca grunted in wry amusement. Cassie nodded, resting her chin on her shoulder. She let the smile slip from her face, knocking into Rebecca’s shoulder. They rested together for the remainder of gym class, watching the birdie get hit back and forth over the swaying net.

  The cops were waiting outside the school when the final bell rang. Cassie recognized Officer Fitzpatrick from Jessica’s wake. They were handing out pieces of paper. Cassie was given a flyer by a short, balding officer she didn’t recognize. She glanced at the colored photo of Laney, black and white sketches of the men Cassie had described to the sketch artist right below her. Laney’s height and weight, which Cassie knew she’d hate having written under her photo, were there in black and white, as well as her last known location and numbers to call with information. Cassie folded it, but before she could put it in her backpack, Rebecca plucked it out of her hand.

  She gave it up without a fight. She didn’t need to see those faces anyway.

  “Ryan driving you home?” Rebecca asked, tossing the flyer in the nearest garbage can. Cassie nodded, walking with her past the line of police officers interviewing willing students and into the parking lot.

  “Need a ride?”

  “No, my mom’s already waiting.”

  Cassie saw Ryan, already by his car at the edge of the parking lot. She said goodbye to Rebecca, watching as the girl went to the waiting sedan idling at the curb. Jordan was already in the back seat, his head down over a video game. Cassie waved, but she doubted he noticed.

  As soon as Cassie stepped into the parking lot, she saw Ryan was not alone. Jon stood next to his car, facing off with him. They were angry, fists clenched, and shoulders tight. Cassie could see Ryan’s jaw grit as Jon shouted something at him. Words exploded from his mouth next, and he pushed Jon back, his hands forceful on his chest.

  Cassie sped up. She couldn’t hear their words until she got closer to them. When she did, it seemed obvious what the fight was about.

  “All right!” Jon roared. “But, I mean, c’mon Ryan. You saw it. It’s a freaking hot picture!”

  Cassie cringed as Ryan lunged, his knuckles smashing into Jon’s mouth. Jon cried out, dripping blood on the pavement as two teachers and a police officer materialized out of nowhere to grab Ryan by the arms and drag him backward.

  “You better watch your mouth, Sutkowski!” Ryan shouted, pointing across the parking lot. Jon seemed more shocked than anything, wiping gingerly at his lip with the cuff of his sleeve. Ryan rolled his shoulders, throwing the police officer’s hands off him. He circled around, keeping well away from the teachers who separated him and Jon with outstretched hands.

  The police got right in his face and Cassie couldn’t hear what the officer was saying, but Ryan stopped pacing. He nodded, letting his hands uncurl at his side. She moved forward. Jon noticed her first. He gritted his teeth but nodded in her direction. She didn’t pause. She went right to Ryan, moving past the officer who was still warning him to back down.

  “Are you okay?” Cassie asked, not missing Jon’s huff. Ryan nodded. The wind kicked up then. Dead leaves scattered across the parking lot, the barest hint of a whisper in them. “Take me home, will you?”

  She didn’t speak again until they were safely in the car. The police officer watched them, asking Jon questions from the corner of his mouth.

  “Was that just about me?” Cassie asked. Ryan didn’t answer. “You can’t fight with him like that,” she said, buckling her seatbelt. He was tense, his shoulders tight as he pulled his car out of the crowded lot.

  “I know. It was a stupid thing to do in front of the cops.”

  “No, I mean, you shouldn’t fight with him at all. He’s your best friend.”

  Ryan gave a short, mean laugh, looking over at her. “You’re kidding.”

  “Look, if it’s about the picture, I was pissed, too. It was a cruel thing to do. But it’s over now. The picture is out, everyone’s seen it. And there’s nothing I can do about it,” Cassie said, pausing to draw breath. “But Laney is also missing. Jess is dead. There are more important things going on than some stupid picture.”

  Cassie took Ryan’s silence as agreement. He drove her home and came inside, taking his place on her couch with a gritted jaw. The searchers were outside still. There would be a candlelight vigil tonight, a bunch of people holding hands and singing softly, trying to be of some comfort to the Blakes. There would probably be speeches, silly, empty words from people who didn’t really know Laney. The news would be there. Cassie wasn’t allowed.

  Cassie said goodnight to Ryan early, saying she just wanted to go to bed. She took her dinner to her room and left it untouched on her dresser. Her parents checked on her twice, found her sitting crossed legged on the floor by her window, and left her alone. She had cracked her window, leaving the blinds in place. She could hear the singing. She kept her light off and the soft glow of the candles illuminated her window panes in orange stripes between the blinds.

  Her room looked strange to her. Pictures of Cassie and Laney were scattered about in frames and tacked to her mirror. She could see a green shirt she had borrowed from Laney ages ago and never returned. It hung limply in her closet, squashed in there as though it really belonged. It didn’t. It wasn’t hers. Her pillow still smelled like lavender. There was a small collection of seashells scattered on her bookshelf from the last trip Cassie took with Laney’s family to the beach. Laney had gotten a terrible sunburn that day and Cassie had teased her the entire ride back, poking her reddened skin and making her howl until the Blakes politely, but very firmly, told them to knock it off.

  Cassie stood quickly, her head swimming after the hours of sitting, of watching the glow of the candles flicker through the blinds. She blinked and went to her closet, pulling a box from the top shelf. She grabbed the green shirt, stuffing it in before dragging the box to her dresser. She took the pictures of Laney’s smiling face from her mirror and tucked them into the soft, green shirt. She felt a surge of anger rip through her, and she raced to her bed, stripping the sheets and piling them by the door. The frames were next. She didn’t bother to rip the pictures out, just threw them on top of each other. The glass of one smashed, sprinkling shards throughout the box.

  Cassie cursed, kicking the box. It tipped, spilling the contents all across her floor. She got down on her hands and knees, pulling the fragments of her life with Laney piece by piece out of the carpet. Hot tears burned and fell. Her breath became course and uneven, and rage ripped through her.

  Laney left. She wasn’t taken, not really. She just left. She chose to leave. She chose to put her parents through hell, leave Cassie to clean up the mess she made.

  A piece of glass ripped through the tip of Cassie’s forefinger and she swore again, picking up the box and throwing it across the room. It hit the opposite wall with a dull thunk, much less satisfying than Cassie had hoped for. She could see the red smudge left from her finger on the side. The singing died down outside, the candles extinguished one after the other. The faint scent of burnt wicks seemed to permeate the room. It felt hot and confining, the walls closing in. Cassie moved to the window, yanked on the cords keeping the blinds in place and threw up her sash. She drew lungfuls of cold air, sucking at it through the tears that burned her cheeks.

  Gone.

  Laney was gone. She left. And Cassie did not do enough to stop her.

  She collapsed to her knees and then scrambled back against her bed. The moonlight shone through her win
dow, highlighting the streaks across the glass from the last time anyone had cleaned it. Cassie leaned against her box spring, letting the cold air sweep over her.

  The people outside were packing up. They sounded almost cheerful, the end of a neighborhood block party. People shouted goodbyes, calling times to meet up later in the week. She couldn’t hear anything from the Blakes. They had probably gone inside already, collapsed on their own floors, sobbing like Cassie was.

  Cassie let her eyes slide shut, listening as the last of the voices died away, and the last car door slammed shut. She was cold, numb.

  “You’re bleeding.” The voice was soft, almost musical, and the room filled with the scent of lavender. She was perched on the windowsill, peering at Cassie. Her dark hair lifted with the breeze, her outline ringed in silver. “It was a nice vigil. I expected to see you there.”

  “I wasn’t allowed,” Cassie croaked, staring up at her. The tears stopped, and her cheeks felt like they were freezing.

  “Mom and Dad wouldn’t have liked that,” Laney said through a frown. She hopped into the room, sitting against the wall below the window. She stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles, tilting her head to regard Cassie.

  Cassie wanted to flip the light on, wanted confirmation that what she was seeing was real. It was Laney. It looked like her. In a way. Her skin was paler, almost luminescent in the moonlight. Her eyes were sharp, darker than Cassie had ever seen them. The green had deepened, become almost black. She stared with an intensity Cassie recognized, and it caused her stomach to lurch.

  “What happened to you?” Cassie whispered. Laney grinned. The moonlight cast shadows over her features and her smile set a spiral of fear twisting in Cassie’s chest.

  “Exactly what they said would happen,” Laney answered. “And see? Here I am.”

  “You’re different.”

  “I’m better,” Laney countered. “You could be, too.”

  A soft laugh, one she recognized, drifted through the open window from the lawn. Cassie stiffened.

  “Who’s out there?”

  “You hear them. I told them you did,” Laney said, that maniacal grin overtaking her features. Cassie shook her head. The voices, the ones that plagued her, started to whisper. Only it was different now. Instead of wind, they sounded like music, the words distinct and decipherable.

  “She doesn’t hear. You only want her to,” he said with a lilt that Cassie couldn’t place. Dulcet and soft, like a spoken song.

  “No,” Laney hissed. “She’s afraid, but she hears.”

  “I don’t hear a thing,” Cassie said, pushing harder back against her bed. She switched tactics when Laney went to argue. “What about your parents? They’re sick with worry.”

  Laney drew a deep breath, her chin lifted up and to the window. “Parents aren’t meant to have their children forever.”

  “So you’ll have them go mad with grief and fear? Always searching for you?” Cassie spoke, and a hard edge of anger leaked into her voice. She couldn’t help it. The rage, the impotence she had felt since Laney walked away from her in those woods was overwhelming. At once, she wanted to smack Laney across the face and drag her to her chest to hold forever.

  “There will be a body. Soon.”

  The horror washed over Cassie like a cold bath. From the way the words casually fell from Laney’s mouth, she knew the body would not be her own. “Who’s?”

  “I’m not sure. But it won’t be mine, not really. No matter how it looks.”

  “Laney, this is insane,” Cassie whispered, getting up to her knees. “You can’t do this. Come back. Stay with me.”

  Laney shook her head, regarding her friend with what looked like pity. “It’s done. I can’t, and I wouldn’t, undo it. But I did want to tell you. No matter how it looks, okay? It’s not me. I’m okay.”

  “Laney, this is not okay!” Cassie said, her voice growing in volume. She could hear the laughter from below her window, feel the amusement at her words and her fear. It fueled her anger. “Jessica is still dead. They did that. You can’t—”

  “Now, you just wait,” Laney said, bristling immediately. She rose to her knees as well, and Cassie faced off with her, less than a foot away. “I told you already, you don’t know what happened that night, not the full story. Jude got carried away, that’s true. Even he admits that much. But it wasn’t completely his fault. He thought Jessica could handle it, thought she saw him for what he was. He was wrong. But it’s not his fault she couldn’t see them. He didn’t know dancing would do that to her. Hell, maybe she even did have an underlying condition.”

  “Oh, so it’s her fault she’s dead?” Cassie said, forcing the words out through grit teeth. “And you’re alive because what? You believe?”

  The tittering underneath her window was annoying and distracting. When the face popped up over her windowsill, she didn’t even blink at it. Corey’s head tilted, the tips of his hair looking dipped in mercury.

  “C’mon, love,” he said, his voice soft, lilting. “She doesn’t see, not really. She sees the old you.”

  Laney frowned, studying Cassie’s face. Cassie saw her friend lean forward, thought for a moment she’d grab her in her arms, hug her, and stay. Cassie could take her downstairs, bring her home to her family. They could go to school and college, maybe get an apartment together someday. Things could be normal. But after a deep breath, a released sigh, Laney sat back on her heels, shaking her head.

  “You’ll know where to find me,” Laney whispered. Then she was gone. The room empty. The voices quiet. Not even the chirp of a cricket to keep Cassie company.

  There were many vigils, always on the street in front of her house. Cassie hoped that they were bringing the Blakes some comfort, though she couldn’t see how. They made her uncomfortable and depressed at first, but now they just triggered a destructive rage whenever the mellow songs rose up over the candlelight.

  Flyers were stapled to telephone poles, the halls in school, the post office, the pizza place. Aidan’s eyes followed her everywhere. She hated them, hated that it was because of her that he was everywhere. She felt watched and exposed, whispers followed in her wake wherever she went. It was easiest to spend her time at school with Rebecca. They hid as often as possible in the library or in her father’s empty classroom during their combined free period. They didn’t talk much, both content to sit in relative silence. Cassie had never before gotten so much homework done on time. The mindless work was distracting, something to keep her thoughts off what else was going on at the school. People were less hesitant, the more time passed, to ask the girls what happened.

  Almost everyone assumed that Jessica’s death and Laney’s disappearance were related. It was a small town, awful things like that just didn’t happen independently of each other.

  It was two weeks after Laney’s disappearance before Cassie spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Blake. She had run outside, still in her pajamas and slippers, wanting to grab the mail. Laney’s mother dart out of her front door, calling out to her as she got to the end of her driveway.

  “Cassie,” she repeated, pleading, “please.”

  Cassie couldn’t say no. She went to their house, Laney’s home, sat in the living room she knew as well as her own. The smells were so achingly familiar, not unique to Laney, but an echo of the time they had spent together. The nights they ate popcorn and watched scary movies, the sleepovers, the puppet shows when they were kids.

  “Tell us, please,” Mrs. Blake begged. Cassie did. She spoke slowly, trying to put any little truth of the afternoon Laney left into her story. She kept to the basic facts, the same things she had told the police, but the details were where she spent the most time.

  Cassie told them about the peanut butter pie, about how Laney read the recipe wrong and Cassie added what she told her and how it was the most disgusting thing they had ever eaten. She told them they stayed in their pajamas most of the morning, laughing and watching cartoons. She told
them how much she loved Laney, how much she missed her. She cried and broke and told them she was sorry, so sorry, and that she’d give anything to have her back. They held her, Mrs. Blake crying too, the three of them rocking together until there was a sharp knock at the door.

  When Mr. Blake opened it, coughing loudly as though that would cover the tears in his eyes, her father was waiting on the porch.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. She shook her head, and Laney’s mom squeezed her fingers. She thanked Cassie for talking with them, as though it had helped in some way. But that was idiotic. Nothing would help.

  Ryan had become relentless in his pursuit of Laney. Ever since Cassie had told him about the carnies, about how she knew that none of them went to St. Paul’s, he had been scouring the internet. It was he who discovered the name of the carnival company that staffed their local carnival. He brought his laptop to her house, hunched over it every night after dinner, trying to pull up faces for employees that Cassie could recognize, trying to match those faces with names.

  It was harder than she would have thought to match the faces. Either they weren’t there to begin with, or the shifting that she knew they did, the way their skin seemed to flex, distorted the images, made them unrecognizable.

  Ryan suggested they drive out, hit the carnival circuit in the nearest towns, to see if Laney might be hanging around them.

  “Have you talked to the cops about any of this?” Cassie asked one night. Ryan had written out a list of carnivals within driving distance, a row of dates next to random town names. He nodded.

  “I get the impression that they think it’s not much to go on,” he said. “That one guy, Gibbons, he spoke with me a while. Said they checked the carnival company already and no one matched the description you gave. They were told that none of the employees had gone missing or quit, and I think they gave up after that.”

  Cassie hummed in consideration. They would have had to leave their jobs, at least for the few weeks they were here, somewhere in town.