Beneath Devil's Bridge(30)

I hear his bitterness. I hear love. I see a young man fighting for some ideal. Darsh in some ways is like Twin Falls itself, struggling with bringing a past into the present, and looking into the future as it diversifies. And sometimes this causes conflict. In more ways than one.

“So yeah, if you think Leena’s oddness made her a victim, it did. She was always on the outside of the pack, trying to get in. And not wanted. And the harder she tried, the more ridiculous she could look, and the more fun people would make of her. So if she was alone on that bridge that night, it doesn’t surprise me, and it shouldn’t surprise anyone. She didn’t have the best judgment. And if she’d been drinking . . .” His voice fades. Then he says, “Amy should have told me. Maybe she’d be alive if I’d been told.” Another long pause. “I’m pissed at Amy.”

I say, “You were at the Ullr sacrifice, Darsh. When Leena didn’t return home, you told police that you’d seen her there.”

“Yeah.” He rubs his face, clearly tired.

“Why did you go that night?”

“To the bonfire? Everyone went. To meet girls. Get wasted. Get high. Chill. Be seen. Not much else exciting happens in town.”

“Who did you go with?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

Luke says, “It’s about getting as full a picture as possible of that night, and the events that could have led to your cousin’s death.”

He moistens his lips. “I drove up to the grove where the bonfire was held with a couple of my friends who work in town. We went in my car. We got there about eight. I did see Leena, and I tried to talk to her, but she went the other way and got lost in the crowd.”

“Did you see her with a guy?” I ask.

“I did, briefly. On the other side of the dancing crowd. It was dark, though, and she was in shadows, near the forest, on a log with him. I didn’t register who he was.”

“But it was a he?”

Darsh nods. “That’s what I assumed. Tall. Big dark jacket. A black hat, and black scarf that kinda hid his face. Gloves. It was really cold, and everyone came dressed warm. Thing is, I was happy to see her with someone. Happy that she wasn’t actually going to try and latch on to me that night.”

“And cramp your style,” says Luke.

Darsh glowers at him. “Yeah. Exactly. And I will live to regret it for the rest of my life, okay? But Natalia was there, and I was hoping that would be the night where she and I got together. So I hung with her and her friends, and forgot all about my little cousin.” He holds Luke’s gaze. “And now she’s dead.”

Luke regards him steadily. Time stretches. Wind gusts and rain blows at us. It’s getting colder and I’m beginning to shiver.

“Who is Natalia?” Luke says finally.

“Natalia Petrov,” I say. “She’s from Russia. She lives at the group home with her little sister, Nina, who is in Leena’s grade. Nina knows Maddy. The sisters lost their parents in a car accident a year ago.”

“Yeah,” says Darsh. “Natalia works at the Chans’ grocery store downtown, and she’s always looking after her little sister. Are we done now? Because I’d like to get home.”

“What time did you leave the bonfire, Darsh?” Luke asks.

“Right after the rocket in the sky. Natalia had work early the next morning, and she wanted to be up early. I gave her and Nina a ride back to the group home, and then I went to Ari’s Greek Takeout to meet up with Tripp Galloway.”

“Thanks, Darsh,” I say. “And again, I’m so sorry to bring you bad news.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” He gets up from the bench and stalks off into the rainy darkness without another word. We watch him go.

Luke checks the time. “We should get back to the station. The copies of those journal pages should have come in by now. Want to grab some takeout on the way?”

I hesitate. I’m exhausted. Maddy and Jake are waiting for me to join them for supper. Or, more likely, they’re waiting for me to make supper. I’ll need to phone them from the station, tell them I’ll be working late. “Sure,” I say. “There’s a Mexican place on the way.”

As we get back into the vehicle, I say, “Have you got a place to stay locally?”

He grunts. “Yeah. Super Saver Motel.” He opens his notebook and scribbles something down.

I start the car and reverse out of the parking spot.

His gaze flicks toward me. And I feel my cheeks heat for my even thinking about where he will sleep after he clocks out for the day.

If one ever clocks out of a murder investigation.





RACHEL


THEN


Monday, November 24, 1997.

When I finally arrive home after examining copies of the ripped journal pages with Luke and Tucker, I find Jake drinking beer in front of the television. He’s watching a hockey game. The sound is loud. His socked feet are up on the coffee table, and I can see three empty beer bottles on the little table beside him in addition to the one in his hand.

“Hey,” he says without looking at me.

I shrug out of my jacket. “Who’s playing?”

“What?”

Louder, I say, “Who’s playing?”

“Canucks and Oilers.” Still he doesn’t look at me.