People Like Us(46)

Nola hauls me to my feet and drags me into the hallway, past where Mrs. Bream is performing CPR on Maddy’s limp, pale body. Why didn’t the EMTs perform CPR on Jessica? How were they so sure? The thoughts are wild and disjointed, too fast and fragmented for me to vocalize. Nola attempts to get me into the common room, but I wrestle myself out of her grasp and stumble down the stairway. I need Brie, but Brie is gone. I make it to the front door when a pair of paramedics rush through, pushing me back into the lobby, and two police officers trail close behind, followed by Detective Morgan. I try to push past her, but she grabs my arm.

“Since you’re in a hurry,” she says, guiding me into the first-floor common room.

I sit on a wooden chair across from her, blank and broken. If she asked me to confess right now, I might. I have no fight left in me. I would say anything to go home and crawl into bed. To just disappear.

“What happened?” Her voice is a little softer than usual, and it catches me off guard.

“Maddy is dead.”

“Maddy was one of your friends? One of the girls who found Jessica.”

I nod.

“Okay.” She writes it down. “How do you know?”

“I saw her.”

“You didn’t make the call.”

“No. I ran.”

“Okay. Calm down.”

I didn’t realize it, but I’m shivering my words out, and I take a couple of deep breaths. “I found her in a bathtub with her head underwater and the floor was flooded. The water had been running a very long time. She was definitely dead.”

“Okay.” She writes more. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

My face crumbles. “She told me to call her and I didn’t. And I ignored her calls. And I keep letting people die, and I keep letting people die.”

Her mouth drops open. “Kay, I’m going to call your parents and have them come down to the station.”

“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not what I meant.”

She looks at me sharply. “You better explain what the hell you meant.”

I don’t stop crying. “She asked me to call her and I didn’t do it.” I press my fists into my face and suck in a gulp of air. “Before I moved here, my best friend committed suicide. Because I abandoned her.”

“Kay. No one is out to get you. I have a job. A girl was murdered. Maybe two. You need to tell us everything you know. Or I can’t help you. You say things like you keep letting people die, and all of a sudden, I may have probable cause.” She shifts in her seat, moves closer. “Now, I can’t question you as a suspect without your parents.”

“No. You can’t call them.”

She holds her hands up. “I wouldn’t have to if I had a better suspect. I want to believe there is one. So I’m giving you another chance. What can you tell me?”

The tears streaming down my face make it almost impossible to see. A better suspect. “Greg and Jessica had a huge fight the night she died,” I finally whisper. “About their breakup.”

She looks disappointed. “We already know that. I need something new.”

Then something rushes back to me from our first conversation. “He told me she was afraid of blades.”

“Okay.” She notes this down, yawning.

“No. The night after Jessica was found. Before he was questioned. None of the newspapers mentioned how she died, but he told me there was no way she committed suicide because she was afraid of blades. How did he know she was cut?”

She gives me a twisted smile. “You’re a toughie. I’ve seen your record. I know why you did it. Kids lie. You even thought you were doing the right thing. I hope you learned that you didn’t protect anyone. Who knows? If your brother had been in jail, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up dead.”

The words dissolve on my tongue. She shouldn’t have access to my brother’s case.

“I know, I’m a cold-hearted bitch. There are worse things to be. I see right through you, Katie. I know you. My partner worked on Todd’s case. But I’ll follow through on your lead. We help each other out; we’re cool.” She pauses at the door. “Although, how could you know she was cut by a blade?”

I look up at her. “I was at the crime scene.”

“But the murder weapon wasn’t visible. All kinds of objects can inflict wounds like the ones you saw. Scrap metal, sharp edge of hard plastic, broken bottle.” She watches me, but I don’t have the energy to respond. Not now. She shakes her head briskly. “Anyway. I’m sorry for your loss. Losses.”



* * *



? ? ?

I FEEL SECTIONS of my hair crunch almost instantly when I step outside, and my clothes are like pure ice on my skin. I run against a wall of cold to Brie’s dorm, bypass the front desk, and throw my entire body against her door before I remember that she’s still away for the long weekend. I bang my fists against it anyway, irrationally, before kicking it with all of my might. Then I pull my phone out of my only pocket that wasn’t drenched from my collapse on the bathroom floor, but I can’t text her. My body is still convulsing too hard from the cold, and I can’t hold my fingers steady. I grab the marker attached to the dry-erase board with a silky green ribbon, and with childlike handwriting, I scrawl the dark message pulsing in the pit of my heart: You might as well be dead, too, Brie. <3 K