The Last Harvest(82)

“The body? What body?”

“Jessica’s body.” His voice quivers as he struggles to meet my eyes.

“No,” I whisper, feeling the floor drop out from under me. “How? Why?” I brace myself against the wall.

“I’m guessing she died about two days ago. We found her out in the woods behind Merritt’s at that campsite. The Wiggins kid suffocated her, buried her alive.” He nearly swallows the word.

I grit my jaw, choking back any emotion. “I need to see her.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it? ’Cause we can wait a bit … you can talk to someone … get something to eat.”

“I don’t want to talk and I don’t want a f*cking sandwich. My sister’s dead for Christ’s sake.”

He grips the brim of his hat so hard I think he might crush it. “This way,” he says as he places it back on his head.

We take the elevator down to the bottom floor. It’s where they keep the bodies until they can be released to the funeral home or shipped off to Gerard County for autopsies. It’s the longest elevator ride of my life.

I remember having to do this last year when Dad died. Every town official was gathered round, watching me, rubbernecking for the best view, but this feels different. The hall’s empty; the fluorescent lights flicker. It’s so quiet. All I hear are Sheriff’s boots clacking against the worn-out linoleum.

“Where is everyone?”

“There’s a storm coming. Everyone’s hunkered down at the school. Emergency personnel only.”

“A storm?” I whisper. The lights flicker.

We enter an examining room. There’s no sheet to peel back. She’s just lying there on a metal table, naked as the day she came into this world. The sight of her takes my breath away.

“Goddamn it, I’m sorry,” Sheriff says as he grabs a sheet from the rack and quickly drapes it over her.

Tears sting the corners of my eyes as I force myself to look at her. The first thing I notice are the bruises around her throat—and all I can think about is fastening that locket around her neck the other night at the Harvest Festival. I took her there. I put her in that position. I was so wrapped up in Ali, and Mr. Neely, and all this Devil shit that I didn’t even see what was happening. I did this to her. She was my sister … my own flesh and blood. She’s been dead for two days and I didn’t even know she was gone. I should’ve checked on her. I should’ve gone in her room. While I was playing ball, getting close to Ali, she was out there rotting in the woods. Left there like a piece of trash.

Trash.

“Wait … was she…” I choke on the thought. “Was she buried in that circle?” I manage to ask.

Ely looks down at the ground and I know it’s true.

“I was there … I was right there. The dirty clumps of hair sticking up from the ground. I must’ve stepped right over her body.” I grit my jaw so hard my teeth creak. “I failed you,” I whisper as I try to brush her hair back, but it’s matted with dirt and bits of moss.

Moss. Just like Noodle said the other night … that Jess was tucked in a bed of moss like a woodland fairy.

I wipe my sleeve across my face, but the tears won’t stop flowing.

Sheriff Ely places his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss. What’s happened to you and your family in the past year is enough pain for ten lifetimes.”

I tighten my grip on the edge of the metal table. My shoulders are shaking so hard, the moss in her hair trembles with each heaving breath. I let out a sob and then clasp my hand over my mouth. I wonder how long it took for her to die. What she thought of before she took her last breath. It kills me that she couldn’t see the stars.

I’m not sure how long I stand there. Minutes … maybe hours. When I’m done crying, I take the edge of the sheet and pull it up over Jess’s face. I’ve seen enough death to know this isn’t her. It’s just an empty shell. Jess must be in heaven. I have to believe that. The thought of anything else is too much to bear.

“Sheriff.” Greg clears his throat from the doorway. “A twister was spotted over the county line. Near Gillmans’.”

“I’ll be…” Ely replies in a daze. “First tornado to cross the county line in a hundred and twenty-seven years.” He straightens his badge. “I guess I need to man the alarm.”

“I’ll get Clay checked out,” Tilford says. “Make sure he gets his belongings, take him wherever he needs to go.”

“Is that all right with you, son?”

I nod. It’s the best I can do. I still want to deck Tilford for riding me so hard back there. I know he was only doing his job. But still.

As Sheriff heads off to deal with the alarm, Greg escorts me to the elevator.

“What floor?” I let out a jittery sigh, uncomfortable being in yet another confined space with him.

“That’s up to you.”

I glance back at him. “Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but—”

“If it were me, I’d want to kill the guy who did that to her.” He pauses, an obnoxious smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Want a shot at him?”

“Wiggins?” My heart races. “Is he here?”