The Dead and the Dark(37)

“Yes, it is,” Logan said. “Look, there’s no dirt on it.”

“So?”

“So that means it was here recently.”

Ashley handed the ring back. Someone had been to the cabin recently. Someone else had walked the decaying floors. Someone had crept here and lost a piece of themselves. “You think whoever was out here saw what we saw?”

“Maybe,” Logan said. She tilted her head back, emptying the rest of her beer. When she finished, she crunched the can down and discarded it in the cracked kitchen sink.

“Are either of your dads missing a ring?”

“No. And they wouldn’t have Bible shit on theirs, either.” Logan’s eyes widened with a sudden realization. “Oh, I found out something else.”

Ashley waited.

“Breaking news—you’re not the only one who can see stuff. Ghosts.” Logan wiped her mouth, smearing her lipstick the rest of the way across her cheek. “My dad sees ’em, too.”

Ashley’s chest tightened. “What?”

“Yeah. He says he’s always seen ghosts.” Logan put on a mischievous smile. “Not so special now, are you?”

Ashley waved away the comment. “That’s … a big deal. You’re sure?”

Logan nodded. Before she could answer, she tripped over a loose plank in the floor and stumbled into a collapsed counter. Her eyes were glazed over, dark as the night outside and hazy. She was too drunk to talk about the disappearance; Ashley was pretty sure she was too drunk to be here at all. She propped a hand under her elbow and helped her sit down. The night wind skirted Logan’s hair into her mouth and across her eyes.

Ashley pushed Logan’s hair out of her face.

Something strange snagged her breath.

“I’m an amazing detective,” Logan said, eyes half lidded. “I did a great job. Way better than you.”

“Sure,” Ashley breathed. “You did amazing.”

Logan reached up and took Ashley’s shoulder. The wind through the gaps in the kitchen walls grew colder by the minute. Logan’s eyes watered in the crisp air. “Why’re you in here by yourself?”

“I’m not by myself. I’m with you.”

Logan blinked, then laughed. “Before that. You looked so sad.”

“I…” Ashley trailed off. She looked back at the main room of the party. No one was looking for them, no one was listening in on them. She closed her eyes. “Honestly? I’m having a really hard time. I’m just really…”

“… lonely,” Logan finished.

Her eyes were closed when she said it. The word sounded too natural on her tongue. Too quick. Ashley recognized the same look on Logan’s face that she’d seen in the mirror for months. They were adrift in the dark, senselessly paddling for shore.

“Yeah,” Ashley said.

In the main room, someone thumped into a wall. Ashley recognized John’s voice bellowing something about my truck or my dad. In approximately thirty seconds, he and Paul would start throwing punches. Fran would cry because she’d told John not to get so worked up. Bug would shut off the music. The party would be over.

Ashley took a sip of warm beer.

It already felt like it was over.

Ashley hooked Logan’s arm over her shoulders. “Hey, let’s get you some water.”

“Get off, straighty,” Logan moaned.

Ashley shook her head, biting back a quiet laugh. She poured out the rest of her beer and walked Logan out of the cabin toward the lake. She’d babysat Fran and Bug at a thousand of these parties; she was used to the fussy and unmanageable. The farther they walked from the cabin, the more sober she felt.

The walk had the opposite effect on Logan.

“Where’re you taking me?” she said, all in one dump of words.

“To get water. And fresh air.” Ashley readjusted Logan’s arm on her shoulder. “Then sleep.”

Logan’s head lolled back against Ashley’s shoulder, eyes closed. Her smoky gray eyeshadow was cloudy with sweat now. “We’re going so far,” she slurred. “Ohmygod, are you the murderer?”

“That’s not funny.”

They reached the lakeshore and Ashley propped Logan against a tree trunk. She filled her empty beer can with lake water and tilted it against Logan’s lips. Logan drank slowly until her nose wrinkled up and she spat at Ashley’s feet.

“Tastes like pee and grass,” she said. “I’d rather have a hangover.”

“C’mon,” Ashley whispered. She pressed the can to Logan’s lips again. “You don’t want your dads to see you hungover.”

Logan waved a dismissive hand. “My dads don’t care.”

Something in the way she said this made Ashley think she wished they did.

Farther down the shore, Ashley spotted Elexis and Nick making their way to the water. She waved them down. “Hey, I’m taking her to the truck. Meet me there when you’re ready.”

Nick gave her a thumbs-up.

Ashley helped Logan to her feet. In the dark, they walked back to the gravel clearing where the trucks were parked. Ashley pulled a sleeping bag from the storage box in the back of the Ford and laid it across the bed of the truck. It was tradition to camp out for a few hours on nights when she was still too drunk to drive home. Logan was already most of the way passed out as Ashley tucked her in, muttering something about calling a “yeehaw Lyft.” By the time Ashley climbed into a second sleeping bag, Logan was out cold. The quiet of the woods settled in and Ashley’s heart stopped racing.