About That Night (13 page)

“Then what happened?”

“According to Deedee, Derek said no. So Ronan grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him forward and slammed him against the lockers again. Hard. Deedee said Derek's head hit pretty hard. Then she said it looked like Ronan was going to punch him. She said he had this totally homicidal look in his eyes.”

Jordie wonders if Deedee's telling of the tale was as dramatic as Carly's.

“Deedee said she was ready to call 9-1-1. Then Mr. Merriwether came out of the bathroom and that was the end of that.”

“He broke it up?”

“More like he sized up the situation and asked them if there was a problem. Deedee said Ronan backed off right away, and Derek said no, there was no problem. Ronan glowered at him and then he just walked away.”

“Do you know if Deedee told anyone besides you about what she saw?”

Carly shrugs. “Maybe. I dunno. Maybe she only told me because you used to go out with Ronan.”

“Can you find out?”

“Find out what?”

“If she told anyone. And if she did, who she told.”

“What if she did?”

“I want to talk to her. In fact, is she around? Because if she is, let's go and see her now.”

Carly's eyes narrow. She regards her sister with undisguised suspicion.

“Why? What are you planning to do?”

“I just want to talk to her, that's all.” Jordie stands up suddenly. “Text her now. See if she's around.”

“What are you up to?” Carly asks, even more suspicious now. “You're going to ask her to lie to the police, aren't you?”

Jordie feels her cheeks flush. “I just want to talk to her, Carly.”

“What if the cops ask me who told me that story about Ronan and Derek?”

“You tell them you don't remember.”

“Aha!” Carly leaps to her feet. “I was right. You want me to lie to the police. Why? Are you protecting Ronan? Why would you even do that? You haven't talked to him in months.”

Jordie turns away—but too late.

“You
have
talked to him! You have, haven't you?” Carly circles her sister to get a good look at her face. “Are you and Ronan back together? Is that it?”

“No.”

“Did Ronan kill Derek?”

“Of course not! How can you say such a thing?”

“But you're afraid the police will think he did, aren't you? That's why you want to know if Deedee told anyone else what she saw. Isn't it?”

“Do you want me to tell Mom you stole my bracelet?
And
sold it?”

“Do you want
me
to tell Mom that your ex-boyfriend killed your current boyfriend—and that you're trying to cover it up?”

“That's not true!”

“Mom!”

Jordie clamps a hand over her sister's mouth. “Shut up, Carly, or you'll regret it.”

“What's going on up there?” Mrs. Cross calls from the bottom of the stairs.

“Nothing,” Jordie calls back.

There is a moment of silence, then: “Carly? Carly, what's going on?”

Jordie keeps her hand firmly in place. “Tell her it's nothing, Carly.”

Carly squirms. Her voice is muffled, but Jordie is pretty sure she says, “What's in it for me?”

“If you promise you won't say anything about what you told me until I say you can, I'll give you anything you want.”

Carly's greedy eyes get enormous. She nods.

Jordie releases her hand.

“Nothing's going on, Mom,” Carly shouts down to her mother. “Except that Jordie's being the usual big-sister pain in the—”

“Watch your language, young lady,” Mrs. Cross warns.

The two girls wait. Their mother doesn't come upstairs. Nor does she say anything else. Finally Jordie says, “Text Deedee and see if she's home.”

“I have to get my phone.”

Jordie nods. Carly disappears. When she comes back into Jordie's room, she is holding her phone and texting with her thumbs. A few seconds after she stops, the phone buzzes.

“She's home,” Carly announces.

“We're going over.”

“Wait a minute. You said if I help you with this, you'll give me whatever I want.”

Jordie sighs. She knows she is going to regret it. “And that would be?”

“You do my kitchen chores for the whole year.”

“What? You little mercenary! I didn't mean I'd turn myself into a galley slave for you.”

“You said anything. If you don't want to stick to the deal we made, that's okay by me. But it means I don't stick to my end either.”

Jordie wants to scream. But she needs to keep everything quiet—if she can—until she figures out what's going on. After that, she'll find a way to renegotiate.

“Okay,” she says.

“I want it in writing.”

“Oh for god's sake!”

“In writing or it doesn't happen.”

Jordie knows her sister has her over a barrel, and she hates it. But she grabs a piece of paper and a pen from her desk and writes what Carly dictates. She dates the page, signs it and thrusts it into her sister's hands. Carly beams as she rereads it.

“Suitable for framing,” she murmurs.

Jordie grabs her sister by the arm and shoves her out of the room. “I'll meet you downstairs.”

As she hurriedly dresses, Jordie prays that Deedee has kept quiet about this one thing. Because there is no way Jordie will entertain the notion that Ronan killed Derek, although she isn't so sure what other people will think.

Fifteen

D
eirdre “Deedee” Sullivan lives in one of the two subdivisions built on former farms on what used to be the outskirts of town. The house is three times bigger than Jordie and Carly's house, but, as Mrs. Cross crows triumphantly, it sits on about half the amount of land and is so close to its neighbors that “you can look out of your dining room window and see what they're having for supper next door.”

Jordie loves these big houses with their formal living rooms and dining rooms, and their huge eat-in kitchens and just-as-huge family rooms, not to mention their large bedrooms and seemingly infinite number of bathrooms. Jordie's life would be blessed if she didn't have to share a bathroom with her sister.

Deedee is delighted to see Carly but puzzled by Jordie's presence.

“She wants to talk to you,” Carly explains with a complete absence of enthusiasm. “Can we come in?”

“I guess.” Deedee frowns as she regards Jordie. “Sorry about your boyfriend,” she says finally. “I guess you must be…devastated?” She speaks the last word as a question, as if she isn't entirely sure she has used the right word.

Jordie mumbles a thank-you.

Deedee waits as the two girls shed their boots and coats. She leads them up the staircase that cuts through the two-story atrium foyer. Deedee's room, large and sunny yellow, is at the back of the house, overlooking a fenced-in, covered-for-winter swimming pool. Deedee shuts the door and flops down on her bed.

“So, what's up?”

Carly turns to Jordie and, with a wave of her arm, invites her to take center stage.

Jordie perches on the edge of Deedee's desk chair.

“This is kind of about Derek,” she says. She peers at her sister's friend. Deedee is one of those tiny girls—petite, perfectly proportioned and with delicate features and light honey-blond hair; she reminds Jordie of a porcelain figurine. She knows nothing about Deedee. Will raising the subject send her into the arms of the police with something valuable to relate, something that might break open a murder investigation? Or can this girl be trusted, on the strength of whatever her relationship is to Carly, to keep her mouth shut? Is Jordie about to make things better—or worse?

Deedee is watching her. So is Carly. Carly rolls her eyes.

“Remember that thing you saw between Derek and Ronan?” Carly asks, brisk and businesslike.

Deedee's barely-there blond eyebrows knit together and she appears to search her memory.

“You know, the time when you saw them and it looked like Ronan was going to punch Derek out?” Carly prods, exasperated.

Deedee's face brightens. “Oh, yeah.” She smiles almost beatifically, which makes Jordie wonder if there's something wrong with her. “I don't care what everyone says.” Her voice is as dreamy as her expression. “I think Ronan is superhot.”

Carly rolls her eyes again. “You told me about what you saw, remember?”

“Sure.”

“Did you tell anyone else?”

Deedee's cornflower-blue eyes widen a fraction. “Did I tell anyone else?”

“That's the question on the table,” Carly says, stunning her sister with her superior attitude. For the first time ever, Jordie wonders what role her sister plays in her coterie of friends. Is she the queen bee? Or does she just act like the queen bee with the girls whom she perceives as lower on the social order than herself? Whichever it is, Deedee appears to take no offense.

“I don't think so,” Deedee says finally. “Why?”

“But you told Carly,” Jordie says, jumping in before Carly can say anything. “Why did you tell her?”

Deedee has to think about this. “Well, I told her because I thought she would be interested, you know, because you used to go out with Ronan and then you were going out with…” She hesitates. “You know.”

“Derek.” Jordie says it to prove that mentioning his name won't reduce her to tears.

Deedee nods.

“But you didn't tell anyone else?” Jordie asks.

Deedee shakes her head.

“Are you sure, Deedee?” Carly demands.

Where does she get off talking to her friends in that tone of voice?

“I'm sure,” Deedee says in a small voice. “Why? Should I have?”

Carly opens her mouth to speak. Jordie silences her with a cutting glance.

“No, you shouldn't have,” Jordie says. “If you ask me, people talk too much about things they know nothing about. Not that you would ever do that, Deedee,” she adds quickly. “You seem like the kind of person who doesn't go around spreading rumors.”

Deedee's eyes widen, and she sits a little taller. “I try not to.”

“And that's good,” Jordie says. “Somebody killed Derek.” Deedee winces, and Jordie does her best to look stricken as she mentions his name. “I don't know who did it. But I would hate for someone who had nothing to do with it to get blamed, all on account of some rumor or something that someone saw without knowing the whole story. You know what I mean, right, Deedee?”

“You want me not to say anything about what I saw?” Her eyebrows knit together again. She looks as confused as she sounds.

“I sure don't want you to spread rumors about anyone. You don't want to do that, do you, Deedee? I mean, what if Carly got killed and then someone told the police they'd seen the two of you fighting, and on the basis of that the police decided you killed her, even though you had nothing to do with it? Once the police make up their minds about something, it's next to impossible for them to change it. I know. I did a project last year on wrongful convictions. You don't want to be responsible for anything like that, do you, Deedee?”

Deedee shakes her head slowly. “I like Ronan,” she says. “He seems so lonely and so unhappy, you know?”

Jordie stares at the girl, surprised. Ronan is often alone, that's for sure. He doesn't smile much. But lonely and unhappy? Is he really, or is that simply the prism through which this naïve little porcelain doll sees him?

“I would never want anyone to think that I think he could do something evil.” Deedee looks directly at Jordie. “I won't say anything if you don't want me to.”

“That's great, Deedee.”

“Unless the police ask me,” Deedee adds.

What? “Why would the police ask
you
about Derek and Ronan?” Jordie asks.

“I'm just saying. I would never lie to the police. Lying is wrong. It's a sin. If the police ask me if I ever saw Derek and Ronan fighting, I would have to tell them the truth.”

Jordie glances at Carly. Carly gestures with a quick nod of the head toward Deedee's bedside table, where Jordie sees a Bible and a book about Christian morality.

“Of course you would have to tell the truth,” Jordie says. She can't imagine a police officer approaching Deedee and asking her flat-out if she's ever witnessed an altercation or any other problem between the two boys. Deedee is two years younger than Jordie. To the best of Jordie's knowledge, Deedee has never spoken to either boy. “But you also don't want to spread rumors that could hurt someone badly.”

Deedee nods solemnly. “I won't say anything unless I have to. I feel sorry for Ronan. I think he needs a friend.”

Jordie thanks her. Carly stands up.

“See you at school,” Carly says.

Deedee beams as if she has been specially chosen to be part of a queen's court.

“I thought she was your friend,” Jordie says to her sister as they walk away from the house.

“Who told you that?”

Jordie has to think for a moment. She realizes it was an assumption.

“Her dad is one of those evangelical preachers. He has a show on cable
TV
. She's kind of weird. But she's in a bunch of my classes, and it's like she can't take a hint. She's always hanging around. She's as hard to shake as a leech. Everyone thinks she's nuts.”

No wonder, Jordie thinks, that Deedee sees Ronan as lonely. She looks at him and thinks she is looking into a mirror.

“Do you think she'll stay quiet?” Jordie asks.

“You heard her. She will unless she thinks she's going to have to tell a lie. And then, believe me, she'll spill her guts.”

The bitterness in her sister's voice stuns Jordie. “She's done it before, hasn't she?” she asks.

“She promised not to tell when we booby-trapped Jessica's locker and then ratted us out when Mr. Atherly looked her in the eye and asked her if she knew anything about it.”