Bitter Falls (Stillhouse Lake)(35)

I can see a light up on top of the cliff: the paramedics, working on the girl Lanny mentioned. They’re not up there long, and they come down carrying a still form on the stretcher. She’s still alive, but her pallor is awful. From the bandages, she’s got a serious head wound. Lanny found her up there, clearly. But then why was my daughter in the lake? I want to pepper her with questions, but before I can, the detectives pull up in their old black sedan. I see Detective Prester climb out first; then my friend Kezia Claremont exits from the passenger side. Prester looks like he doesn’t much relish a climb; he considers the cliff trail, then dispatches Kezia up and instead comes straight for us. As he approaches, his seamed old face blurs history with present; I remember him coming like this at me before, when a body was dragged out of Stillhouse Lake and I was a suspect in her death. I don’t want him interrogating my daughter the same way.

“Hey, Gwen. Sam.” Prester exchanges sober handshakes with the two of us, then looks at Lanny. He’s got the sort of face that can seem kind and supportive right up to the moment he slams the cell door on you. And I’m not reassured by his good manners. “Young lady, I’m going to need to talk to you. Gwen, you can come along.”

“Fine,” I say, as Lanny draws breath to tell me she can do it alone. I’m not about to let her get trapped. Not that I think she’s done anything wrong, but . . . still. “Maybe in your car?”

“Yeah, that works, I’ll get that heater going. Miss Atlanta, you get into the front seat with me. Gwen, mind sitting in the back?”

I don’t until the door shuts, and I remember that I probably can’t open it by myself. But I’m not the one in trouble here. My daughter looks tough, but I see the scared little girl inside, and it hurts.

Detective Prester takes out his phone and presses a recording app. “This is Detective Timothy Prester interviewing Atlanta Proctor. Lanny, state your address and birth date for the record, please.”

She does, stammering a little; I’m not sure whether that’s the chill she’s still feeling, or nerves. Prester gives her a warm, reassuring smile. It puts me on guard. “Right, the time right now is . . . two fifteen a.m. Okay, I promise we won’t be long, I know you’ve been through a lot tonight. You doing okay? You need anything?”

Lanny shakes her head, but she’s still shivering. Prester turns on the engine, and the heater starts blasting. “You just tell me the story the way it happened, Lanny. I’m listening.”

Lanny’s unusually reticent, but he coaxes it out of her, step by step. Sneaking out. Arriving at the party. Hanging out with a senior named Bon. Going up to the cliff to get away from the crowd. Finding the victim.

I know she’s telling the truth about the sequence of events. I also know she’s leaving things out. Prester will too.

She recounts the terrifying story of being confronted on the cliff, tells him about Bon Casey and a second man. And Prester just nods. He looks, if possible, even more grim. “From your description, sounds like it’s probably Olly Belldene,” he says. “Bon Casey does some grunt work for him, pushing pills and weed at parties. We’ll look into that.”

I know this isn’t good. We didn’t need another reason to be at war with the Belldenes, but here it is. My daughter’s the only witness to what seems to be a crime that Olly Belldene is involved in, and that makes me very, very worried.

Lanny must realize it too. Her shoulders are hunched, and though she’s stopped shivering, she seems drawn into a tight ball of nerves. Prester gives her a break and thanks her for her help. I let out a breath and realize that my whole body is aching. I’ve been trying so hard not to interfere.

Lanny reaches for the handle, and Prester says, “One last thing, Lanny. I’d like to get a DNA swab so we can eliminate you from the scene, okay?”

I want to object. I’m frozen with doubt, but Lanny just turns her head and opens her mouth as he takes a sealed swab from his jacket. Before I can tell her it’s a bad idea, it’s done; Prester’s as slick as a stage magician. And, truthfully, her DNA will probably be found on Candy, there’s no doubt about that; she must have touched her, checked her pulse at least. So maybe this is a good step, not the start of something worse. But I can think of a thousand ways this can go sideways.

Prester tells us we can go home after that. I’m exhausted but jittering with nerves, and I just want to get my kids home. But I linger just a moment to ask him a blunt question. “Are we safe here?”

He takes his time with the answer. “Ms. Proctor, I wish I could say you were. But you’ve got trouble with the Belldenes already, and now this? Might want to take your family on a vacation, if you know what I mean. If I need you back here, I can call.”

I heave a sigh. “Thanks, I will. Speaking of the Belldenes, though . . . I got a visit from the top today. Jasper and Lilah Belldene. Lilah made me meatloaf.”

He stares at me. For the first time, I’ve surprised Detective Prester. “Did you eat it?”

“Nope. I was afraid it might have a nasty surprise inside.”

“Well, I doubt that; Lilah’s a damn good cook, and her meatloaf’s pretty near legendary around these parts. She wouldn’t want to cast a shadow on her reputation. What did they want?”

“They want us gone,” I tell him. “And that was before this happened. Can’t imagine this will make them like us any better.”