The Dead and the Dark(60)

Deputy Golden said nothing, which meant it was.

Shadows danced at the edge of Logan’s vision. She was about to pass out. Across the parking lot, Sheriff Paris helped Ashley from the bench and took her to his police cruiser. They left the Bates in silence, disappearing on the highway toward the police station. The sky was heavy with gray cloud cover; it weighed down on her, pressing like fists to her shoulders.

“… What do you need to know?” Logan croaked.

Deputy Golden motioned to Logan’s motel room. They entered, and Logan fought the urge to hide the evidence that Ashley had been here. That they’d been here together when Bug died. That, for a second, things had been okay. She wanted to make the bed, to go back to the beginning of the night, to scrub the memory from the walls.

Deputy Golden shut the door behind them.

“Let’s start from the beginning.”





25


Let The Survey Show


“Should I get state police on the line?”

“I tried. They’re sending someone out this week.”

“This is an emergency.”

“They don’t think so.”

“Have we notified the family?”

“God, not yet. What do I say? Frank’s always done the notifications.”

“Frank, the county coroner is on the other line. Can you take him now?”

“Put him through to my voice mail. I’ll do the notification, I just need to talk to…”

Silence. Ashley felt Sheriff Paris turn his eyes on her. Everyone in the station turned their eyes on her. She kept staring into the brick wall across from her, tracing the mortar lines from the floor to the ceiling in aching detail. She needed to focus. Needed to block the rest of it out. She needed to keep her eyes open, because if she closed them, she’d see it again.

It’d only been a moment; she’d thought it was a nightmare at first, but now she knew. In the dark of the motel room, sometime between when she’d fallen asleep and when the police arrived, she’d seen her.

Bug.

Across the room, leaning against the makeshift desk in her dark green flannel, a braid of red hair drooped lazily over her shoulder. The room was laced with her—it even smelled like that perfume she bought from the mall in Ontario. She’d mouthed a word that Ashley couldn’t quite understand. Over and over, her mouth was long like a vowel, and then thin as a smile. She’d thought it was a name. But maybe Bug was still alive when she’d seen it, just outside the room, struggling to breathe. Maybe she was mouthing Help me.

Ashley was going to be sick.

“Ashley?” Becky said. She came around her desk and sat on the chair next to Ashley, lingering just on the edge of the seat like she wasn’t sure she was allowed. “Your mom is here. She wants to go with you for the questions. Is that okay with you?”

Ashley closed her eyes. Tammy Barton was going to skin her alive for lying about where she was last night, but that was better than being alone right now.

She nodded.

Becky stood and motioned to the front door of the station. A warm draft funneled into the lobby, accompanied by the signature click of Tammy’s heels. In a flurry, Tammy swept Ashley into a hug so tight it threatened to cut off Ashley’s airway.

It wasn’t the right reaction. There was supposed to be anger. There was supposed to be yelling. Instead, Tammy just rocked her back and forth, whispering It’s okay into her ear.

“I…” Ashley trailed off. The weight of it all punched its way up her chest like a stampede. Her tears were hot behind her eyes. Her head was going to explode. She knotted a fist in the back of Tammy’s shirt and breathed, “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, look at me.”

Ashley nodded and looked up. Tammy took her face between her hands and fixed her with an intense stare.

“You did nothing wrong.” She tucked a strand of hair behind Ashley’s ear. She was gentler now than Ashley had ever seen her. She struggled to reconcile this Tammy with the one she’d pictured on the way to the station—brow etched with fury, angry at her for lying, for being there of all places. Instead, Tammy gave her a small, quiet smile. “And Paris is gonna find who did this. Just breathe.”

“I was there,” Ashley croaked.

“I know.” Her mother pulled her into another hug. “It could’ve been you.”

Ashley exhaled, pushing back the first words that came to her: it should’ve been me. Bug had been there because Ashley told her about the investigation. Bug had died because of her, just like all the others. She wrapped her arms around her mother and held her tight, like she was the only thing keeping her from sinking.

“Ashley, Tammy, why don’t you come on back?” Sheriff Paris asked.

They followed Paris deeper into the police station. It wasn’t particularly large—behind the lobby was a closed-off holding cell, two desks, and an office with a wooden desk and a wall of bookshelves. Ashley followed Paris into the office and took a seat on the visitors’ side of his desk. His office was surprisingly calming—white light streamed in through the blinds at the back, streaking the mahogany paneling on the walls.

Paris shut the door and circled to his desk chair. “I figured it’d be better to talk somewhere quiet.”

“We appreciate it,” Tammy said. “So? Do you know who did it?”