Of the Trees Read online

  “There’s nothing,” Cassie whispered, staring up at that darkened face. Low and almost indecipherable, a growl emanated from his chest.

  “You see me!” he screamed, his rage echoing around the narrow well. “You’re a liar!”

  Above him, in the cuts of moonlight, the trees began to sway. Softly at first and then violently, vicious lashes against the sky. Cassie stiffened and nearly fell. Ryan’s grip on her ankles grounded her. Before Aidan could reach in and grab her, Cassie dropped back down to Ryan. She was immersed in water that nearly hit her chin and she shuddered forcefully, gasping as the freezing water soaked her through again. Above her the sky was revolting, lightning flashed, and thunder sounded. She could hear the breaks in the tree branches as they thrashed. Wind gusted from the ground and flew down the well, a mini twister that whipped Cassie’s wet hair and froze her face. She huddled against Ryan, his face tucked into her shoulder, as the forest raged above them.

  “What the hell is happening?” Ryan yelled, his voice barely audible over the sudden storm. Cassie shook her head. The water crept up, and she was suddenly buoyant, her feet lifting from the muck. It got into her mouth, and she spat, pressing her lips tighter together. Ryan stood firm, taller than she was, and she kept her hand fisted in his jacket in an attempt to stay close.

  Chunks of earth fell from the opening of the hole they had been forced into. They landed with splashes all around them, raining mud over their heads. Lightning illuminated the sky and in the bare moments of light, Cassie saw him watching her. His eyes, sharp and blue, penetrated her mind, pinned her in the water. He knew. He knew she saw him, was willing to kill her rather than let it go.

  “Help us!” she called out. He smirked, but the water kept rising, thunder boomed over the violent sway of the tree tops. Cassie closed her eyes in defeat.

  A different flash, softer and warm, cut through the darkness of the hole.

  “Cassie Harris! Ryan Buckner!” a voice called out. “Boys, over here!”

  As quickly as it began, the storm above died down. A new head peered over the edge of the hole, shining a harsh beam of light into her face. It wasn’t until Ryan called out that she dared to believe.

  “We’re here,” he shouted. To Cassie he said, “Climb up, get us out of here.”

  Cassie scrambled back onto his shoulders. She heard the gasp of his last breath as the water covered his mouth and knew she had to hurry. Officer Gibbons stared down at her, his arm outstretched. She grabbed at his hand, her fingers stiff and numb. He pulled her out like she weighed nothing. Ryan spluttered as he broke the surface of the water and took a deep breath.

  “We have to—” she started to say, scrambling back to the edge of the hole. She could just see the top of Ryan’s head. “Do you have a rope.”

  “No,” Gibbons replied, already stripping off his belt, “but we have clothing. Help me out.”

  He called out for the other officers again, his words coming in harsh, barking commands. Cassie peeled off her jacket and then her shirt, offering the ends of the sleeves to the officer. He tied them together with his belt, calling out assurances to Ryan. The forest to her back felt menacing, but she had no attention to spare until Ryan was out safely.

  Just as Gibbons threw the end of his makeshift rope back into the well, a man crashed through the underbrush to Cassie’s right. She screamed.

  “What happened?” Ryan yelled.

  “Nothing,” Gibbons called down. “Climb if you can. We’re going to pull you out of here.”

  The man who had appeared, another officer like Gibbons, grabbed at the makeshift rope and gave an almighty pull. Together the two officers hauled Ryan out of the hole, muddy and dripping wet but unharmed. Cassie ran into him as soon as he stood and he wrapped his arms around her.

  Gibbons got on his radio, giving coordinates and calling for a medic. He pointed them in the direction of the road, and they marched, following a female police officer that was just ahead. A jacket was offered, and Cassie put it on, shivering uncontrollably.

  Her parents came crashing through the woods just as Cassie saw the road ahead. They gripped her fiercely, both crying. Ryan’s parents weren’t far behind.

  “Dad saw the car.”

  “You never came home.”

  “We were so worried!”

  It was Officer Gibbons who had agreed to lead the search. Even though they would technically have had to wait in missing persons cases. Tonight, with the way the town had been plagued, he made the exception.

  Cassie left the woods without looking back. Aidan may have been watching. She didn’t check, and she didn’t care.

  She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

  It wasn’t long before there was a body.

  It looked like her, like Laney. When Cassie first saw it, cold and unmoving in the coffin, she felt drawn to her. She repeated, like a mantra, that it wasn’t Laney, it wasn’t real. But it was solid, firm. Her hair was dark and long, her skin pale. The small mole on the left side of her face, just skimming her jawline, was there. Every detail, every aspect of this body perfectly mimicked Laney’s.

  The Blakes wept. Like wounded animals, they sobbed over their only daughter’s body. Part of Cassie felt that Laney must really be dead because no decent person could let their parents live through what her parents were living through.

  There was a wake. Cassie skulked in the back, and most attendants left her alone. Rebecca stayed near her, two girls in an exclusive club that neither had ever wanted to belong to. The wake wasn’t like Jessica’s. There was no touching tribute on the lawn. Something had shifted. The line of mourners still wrapped around the building. The parents of the dead girl still stood next to the open coffin, shaking hands through red-rimmed eyes. The flowers were over-the-top and benignly descriptive. The change was with the students. One of their own was taken again. It was not some freak accident. It was more personal; someone was attacking them. Because two girls didn’t die accidentally from heart failure. Something had happened.

  Officer Gibbons sat down next to Cassie. She had taken the back corner seat, watching the procession from a distance, the crowd keeping a respectful distance from her. Ryan and Jon hovered nearby. Her parents stood next to the Blakes, ready to be of assistance should one of them break.

  “It’s a real shit day,” Gibbons said. Cassie nodded.

  “Thank you,” she said. She stared forward, her attention inadvertently pinned to the coffin with the impostor body. “That could have been me.”

  He nodded and pat her arm, getting up and moving to give his condolences to the family.

  When the impossibly long line of grievers had finally abated, the front door closing on the soft pattering of rain from outside, Cassie sighed in relief.

  Laney’s parents were saying their final goodbye. They weren’t crying now, they looked too exhausted to breathe.

  Ryan was waiting with his parents by the front door. Cassie stood and walked over to him, reaching up on tiptoes to give him a kiss goodnight.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, noting the widening eyes of his parents behind them. Her parents, too, would probably be surprised. Though how everyone in that room hadn’t seen this coming, this firming of whatever was going on between Cassie and Ryan, she didn’t know. He smiled gently and kissed her forehead, lingering just long enough for Cassie to blink back the tears that had formed. They whispered goodbyes and Cassie turned to find her mother’s open arms waiting for an embrace.

  She went willingly, letting her mother cradle her.

  “We can go get the car,” she whispered, “if you want a moment to say goodbye.”

  Cassie nodded, not knowing what else to do. The Blakes were walking to the back room, following the funeral director and his soft condolences. Silhouetted by gray sky and pouring rain, her parents wrenched open the front door. Cassie watched them leave and then turned, alone in the room with the body that looked like Laney.

  She
walked slowly across the space. It seemed huge now, devoid of crushing bodies all slick with rain. The flowers were fragrant but wrong, not soft, like lavender, like Laney. The body itself was wrong.

  Because, of course, it’s not her, Cassie thought, mentally chastising herself.

  Laney was free, probably running wild and without care. It didn’t matter to her that her parents were heartsick, that Cassie was left incomplete, always turning to her side, waiting for Laney to fill in her blanks.

  She couldn’t think of a thing to say to the lifeless body below her. Her features hardened, and she felt anger flood her bloodstream. She turned on her heel and ran from the room, ripping the door open and stepping into the rain.

  People moved past her, walking briskly down the sidewalk, getting cars for friends and relatives who didn’t want to get wet. A small gathering of waiting people pooled underneath the building’s small awning.

  The sidewalk was thick with puddles. Cars still pulled from the parking lot and just ahead she could see the lit brake lights of her parent’s sedan. Rain fell fast and cold, and Cassie flipped up her hood, almost deafened by the pattering on her coat.

  The lines of people moving down the sidewalk started to thin as Cassie moved forward. Just ahead, still and unmoving, unlike the rest, Cassie saw her face, a pale oval through the rain. Her eyes caught and locked with Cassie’s. She looked the same, not like the body lying still in the coffin, but glowing and alive. Her irises darkened when she saw her friend, her lips part.

  Cassie stared blankly ahead, the rain catching in her eyelashes.

  Laney moved right up to her, staring up into her face. “Cass,” she whispered. Cassie looked down.

  “Sorry,” Cassie said. Her gut clenched. The words were almost lost in the rain. “Do I know you?”

  Shock and hurt cut across Laney’s features. She took a small step back. Out of nowhere, Corey materialized, his arms coming around Laney. Cassie kept her face carefully blank.

  “You’re lying,” Laney hissed. Cassie shook her head, raindrops flying from her hood.

  “I think the line starts around the side of the building,” Cassie said, pointing to the funeral home. “It’s pretty much over, though. The funeral is at one o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

  Headlights washed over them. Laney looked stricken.

  “We told you, love,” Corey whispered low in her ear. Cassie was sure she wasn’t meant to have heard. “It would be this way. She can’t see you, not really.”

  Cassie moved past them, walking briskly as though she hadn’t heard. Something small in her snapped, and her eyes started to burn. She made it almost to the curb when she looked up and saw him. Across the road, standing stock still among the crowds hurrying for their cars, stood Aidan. Without a hood up, the rain plastering his hair to his head, he stared.

  A shiver moved through her as a swirl of heat coursed up her body. It brought words that echoed inside her skull.

  “You know,” he whispered, smirking at her. “See you soon.”

  The doors to the funeral home opened, the lights beyond going dark. Soft crying could be heard from the entrance way. It mingled with the crying Cassie could hear from the street, only steps away from her. Laney and her parents, both mourning her leaving this world.

  But she had left, willingly.

  Cassie opened the car door, slid into the seat, water dripping from her jacket and leaving dull spots on the upholstery.

  “Okay, honey?” her father asked. The heater was on, blowing dry, hot air over Cassie’s face. She stared straight ahead.

  “Take me home,” she whispered. She lay her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Firstly, thanks to Georgia McBride and the entire team at Month9Books. It has been an honor and a privilege to work with each of you.

  This was a book about friendship. Writing Cassie’s story felt a bit like diving back into the throes of teenagerdom, armed with the knowledge my best friend wouldn’t make it out alive. I’m lucky enough to have some wonderful memories of peanut butter pies, midnight treks through the woods, school dances, apologies made of coffee and bagels, and trips to my own local haunted cemetery. Heather and Elaine, Stephanie and Shannon, Caitlin and Shelaine, thank you for making my younger years so memorable.

  Life was busy back then, and, unbelievably, it’s even busier now. I have my four wonderful children and my husband to thank for that. Adam, Matthew, and James, thank you for the quiet nights. Caitlin, thank you for feeding me popcorn while I revised this book. (I promised I’d thank her for that.) My husband reads everything I write and tells me when it’s terrible. I love him for it. Thank you, Marc Fitch, for the critiques and the support, for your encouragement, and for sharing this crazy life with me.

  With all the insanity of living life, I’m a lucky woman to have an additional three anchors in the chaos. Jodi, Ginger, and Rachael thank you for the support, the midnight check-ins, the weekly phone calls, the gentle talk-downs, and handholding; even if—especially if—you were unaware you were doing this.

  To my parents, Tom and Rita McCullough, thank you for encouraging my love of reading and for teaching me that hard work can take you anywhere. To my brothers, Paul and Mark, thank you for being my best friends growing up, even if it was only because Mom told us we had to be. She was right. You’re still two of my best friends. Grandma Brock, thanks for everything.

  The first to ever take a stab at editing any of my jumbled thoughts was Mav Skye. Mav, it was your push years ago that kept me writing and your encouragement now that improves it. I couldn’t thank you enough for that, but I’ll continue to try.

  Lastly, thanks to you, whoever you are, for reading this book, allowing me into your thoughts, and letting me stay there until these final pages. I’m honored and grateful.

  These things always come off sounding like I’m signing someone’s yearbook … so to that end, have a great summer and stay in touch!

  But seriously, stay in touch. Go find me on social media or something, I’d love to chat with you!

  E.M. FITCH

  E.M. Fitch is an author who loves scary stories, chocolate, and tall trees. When not dreaming up new ways to torture characters, she is usually corralling her four children or thinking of ways to tire them out so she can get an hour of peace at night. She lives in Connecticut, surrounded by chaos, which she manages (somewhat successfully) with her husband, Marc.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

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