All the Missing Girls(84)

He cursed, kicking the tools on the floor. Stormed past us and tore the tarp from the top of the truck bed. He threw it over the exposed plastic, used the shovel to tuck it under at the edges. I stayed outside while Daniel helped Tyler roll the tarp up.

Daniel peeled back the corner to check and ended up in the grass beside me.

“Is it Corinne?” I asked.

He didn’t answer at first, just dragged his arm across his mouth, spitting out anything left, which was answer enough. A body with long hair buried under our garage. Of course it was her. “It’s her clothes,” he said, and then he gagged again, retching over the grass.

“Nic,” Tyler said, “watch the woods.”

I watched the woods. Tried not to notice the rolled-up tarp, and the blanket underneath, and Corinne underneath that, being carried from the garage to the back of Tyler’s truck. Tried not to picture the girl she had been or the times I had stood in that very spot, the truth just inches below the surface.

Daniel put a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. Took the keys from his grip. “Not your responsibility,” he said.

Tyler rubbed a hand down his face. “We’ve got work sites.”

“This won’t come back to you,” Daniel said. “Thank you.”

“Daniel,” I said.

“I know plenty of places, Nic. This is my region. It’s full of abandoned sites.”

We were doing this. Really doing this. Moving a dead body with no idea how it truly got there. I thought of police and lawyers and all the ways her body being under this house might get twisted around. And then I thought of Everett trying to get the phone records thrown out in the Parlito case. “Leave your phone,” I said. “It’s a GPS.”

“It’s in the kitchen,” Daniel said. And then, tilting his head toward the mess, “Will you take care of this?” He looked at Tyler, since I am unreliable, apparently. Tyler nodded.

He drove away, and I began to cry, hoping the rain would cover for me.

“I need your car,” Tyler said, pretending not to notice. He kept his gaze focused on the garage as he spoke to me.

“For what?”

“Gravel. Concrete. We need to pour a new floor.”

“Shouldn’t we wait until morning?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. We need to clear the area. Level it. Can you do that?”

This was a task. I could do the task. “Okay,” I said. “Yes.”

Stop crying.

Focus on the pieces of concrete. Focus on the dust. On the pressure washer. On the thunder.

Focus on the tiny insignificant details.

Leave out what’s happening

Pull yourself together, Nic.

Pick yourself up and move.

Tick-tock.





The Day Before





DAY 2

It was just after midnight. A new day, I thought. The long drive home behind me. Me and Cooley Ridge, slowly adjusting to each other once more. I’d get some sleep before sunrise and see it again with fresh eyes, and I’d do what I had to do to get Dad to talk, to remember what he’d seen. I’d come at it from a different angle. Work my way back to it. Find out what had been hiding, buried, for the last ten years. The ghost of Corinne, spinning and blurring in my mind.

I need to talk to you. That girl. I saw that girl.

I turned off the hall light, and the house was completely dark. I put my hand against the wall, feeling the familiar chips in the paint at the corners. Five steps from here to the stairs. I knew the way by heart.

Shit, the ring. I forgot the ring again. I’d left it in the middle of the kitchen table so it wouldn’t get lost amid the cleaning supplies.

Two steps back to the light switch, and the give of the floorboards at the kitchen entrance, and the faint flickering of something out in the night. I kept the light off, took a step closer to the window.

There was a shadow moving up on the hill. I could see it because there was a light in front of it. A narrow beam cutting through the trees. I pressed my face closer to the window. It was descending the hill, and for the briefest moment my heart soared and I thought, Tyler, like always.

But the shadow was too small. Too narrow. In my backyard, her blond hair caught the moonlight, and she flicked off the flashlight with her delicate fingers.

It occurred to me, as she stared at the darkened windows, that she couldn’t see me watching her.

She had an off-white packet of some sort under her arm, and I watched her bend down, disappearing from view. Then the gentle sound of paper wedging itself under the back door. It wouldn’t come completely inside, even as she tried to jimmy it a few times. She stood, and the door handle slowly began to turn. What the—

My hand went to the knob on instinct, pulling the door open before her. Then I hit the light switch, bathing us both in light. She jumped, gripping the envelope to her chest, her eyes wide and innocent. She blinked slowly, her face stoic.

“Hi,” I said, stepping back so she could enter. “Annaleise.” What can I do for you? or What’s up? seemed inappropriate now that I realized how late it was and that she’d been about to open my back door without knocking.

She stepped inside tentatively, her fingers pressing into the envelope, her knuckles blanching white.

“Is that for me?” I asked. I saw my name in boxy print, done in a ballpoint pen. Just Nic. Nothing more. “Is this a ‘Back off my boyfriend’ letter? Look, I could’ve saved you the trip. Tyler and I are done. He’s all yours.”