Ten (7 page)

Meg stared at the roof, listening to the sharp tapping of the rain as it was catapulted into the windows by a ferocious wind. She’d been so excited to stay in that room but now everything felt odd. Off in a way she couldn’t explain.

Meg shook her head. Jessica would be arriving in the morning with more guests. The storm would probably blow over during the night and tomorrow things would be different. She was being silly; she just needed some sleep.

“We should see about getting out of here tomorrow,” Minnie said softly. The nearest guest room was down on the second floor, yet she still whispered.

“Really?” Meg asked. “But I thought you were having a good time?”

“Yeah …” Minnie’s voice trailed off, then she fell silent. Meg could hear her turning over in bed. “Meg?”

“Yeah.”

“Will I be okay? When you’re in LA?”

“Mins, you’ll be fine.”

A rustle of sheets and bedding. “Sometimes, I don’t think I can, you know? Be fine without you. I’m not sure I can do it.”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” Meg said. “When we’re home.” She didn’t want to have that conversation at all, let alone in the pitch-black garret at White Rock House with T.J. sleeping in a room downstairs. It made her feel even more like a traitor to her friendship with Minnie: First she was running away to college, then she was rekindling her feelings for T.J.

“Promise?” Minnie said. Another promise no one expected her to keep.

“Promise.”

A roar of wind rattled every window in the garret and the rain lashed at the glass so fiercely it sounded as if someone had thrown a handful of pebbles at the side of the house. The light filtering through the white gauze curtains was muted and dull, and Meg’s first thought as she squinted her eyes open was that the storm must have raged all night without letting up. Judging by the wind and the rain, they were in for another dark, damp day on Henry Island.

She shivered and pulled the quilt up around her ears. Damn, the house was freezing. Had someone turned off the heat? She rolled on her side to check the time on the alarm clock, but the digital face was completely blank. No wonder it was so cold. The storm must have knocked out the power during the night. No power, no heat, no satellite. Minnie was right—they needed to catch the first boat out of there.

Meg listened for other noises in the house, but there was only the sound of Minnie’s rhythmic breathing. She lay there for a moment, eyes squeezed shut against the encroaching daylight, and wondered if she should get up and tell someone about the power outage. Eh, what could they do? No point in leaving a warm bed. She snuggled under her covers, hoping she’d drift back off to sleep.

Except she had to pee. Small bladder and too much beer. She swung her legs over the bed and tested her toes on the frigid floor, silently cursing her decision not to pack slippers. With the giant comforter wrapped around her, Meg tiptoed across the garret and down the stairs.

There was a slight breeze in the open stairwell of the tower that sent a chill racing down Meg’s neck. She hitched the comforter up over her head—sympathizing suddenly with Eskimos, mummies, and women in burkas—and quickened her pace.

Pat, pat, pat.
The sound of her bare feet was distant and fuzzy as it permeated the layers of thick down wrapped around her head. Her toes were so cold she could barely feel the smooth wood of the stairs, and the comforter cocoon was like having blinders on: She could only see a small oval right in front of her. She moved as quickly as her bulky wrap would allow, praying she didn’t trip and send herself careening down the stairs or worse, over the railing. That fall would certainly end in a broken neck.

Why was she always thinking of the most morbid scenarios? Sheesh. Just go down to the bathroom then back to her warm, comfy bed.

Pat, pat, pat.

Creeeeeak.

Meg paused. Was that the stairs creaking? It sounded like it came from somewhere above her. Maybe the old house was straining against the storm? She rounded a corner and heard it again.

Creeeeeeak.
A shadow on the white wall of the tower caught her eye. There was something odd about it, something familiar, and yet there shouldn’t be a shadow there at all. The windows in the tower didn’t have any curtains, nothing to cast a shadow. Meg stared at it for a second and noticed the shadow was moving, swaying slowly from left to right.

Creeeeeak
.

Meg froze, her eyes locked on the shadow. The heavy form, oblong and amorphous except for the dangling appendages....

Legs. Holy crap, they were legs.

Meg turned her head and came eye-to-eye with a face hanging in the stairwell. The noose around the neck. The purplish-blue hue to the skin.

Meg opened her mouth and screamed.

TEN

LORI’S BODY ROCKED SLOWLY BACK AND FORTH.

Meg wanted to look away. But her eyes were locked on those of the dead girl in front of her. She let the comforter fall to the ground and even though the air was frigid, Meg was burning up. She began to sway, mimicking the motion of Lori’s dangling body, so much so that she had to reach out and grip the banister to steady herself for fear of tumbling over the rail.

Meg couldn’t even blink; Lori’s sightless brown eyes held her gaze. There was something in them: Fear? Confusion? In her final moments had Lori felt both? Had she regretted the choice to take her own life only after she had thrown herself over the banister? Meg shuddered. The idea of suicide, of being so full of despair that you didn’t want to live anymore, horrified her.

“Holy shit!”

“Oh my God!”

A sob. A whimper.

It probably only took twenty seconds for the others to emerge from their rooms, but it felt more like twenty minutes to Meg. She was vaguely aware of the gasps and cries around her. Meg could feel the growing presence of people even though she couldn’t see them. She couldn’t see anything other than the eyes staring lifelessly at her.

It wasn’t until Meg felt a hand on her shoulder that she could move again, blink again.

“Are you okay?” T.J. said. His arm slipped down to her waist and she let her body sag into it. She found his eyes—eyes that could feel and sense and see. She began to tremble.

“Yeah.”

“Liar.” He picked up the comforter and hauled it over her shoulders.

“What happened?” Kumiko’s voice was high and pinched. “What the fuck happened?”

Vivian stood with her back to the body, refusing to look at it. “You were her roommate. Did she say anything?” Any trace of her emotional outburst from the night before had vanished, and the old, harsh Vivian was back.

Kumiko shook her head. “She was already in bed when I got up here last night. I thought she’d passed out.”

“You didn’t hear her get out of bed?”

“I …” Kumiko glanced at Gunner. “I didn’t sleep there.”

Vivian clicked her tongue. “Well, that’s just perfect.”

“Hey,” Kumiko barked, getting up in Vivian’s face. “I’m not her mom. How was I supposed to know she was that far over the edge?”

“We need to call the police,” T.J. said.

“There’s a phone in my room.” Vivian spun around and disappeared into the master bedroom.

“Where did she get the rope?” Ben said. He stuck his head into the stairwell and gazed up to the roof beams of the tower. “And how did she get it strung up there?”

“Why are you guys yelling? I was trying to sl—”

Meg registered Minnie’s voice and looked up in time to see her friend descend the stairs from the garret. Minnie stopped dead in her tracks on the second-to-last step, one hand brushing her light blonde hair away from her face while the other clutched Meg’s hooded sweatshirt around her chest. Meg could see the realization of the scene dawn on her, as Minnie’s eyes traveled from the body up the rope to the wooden beams of the tower, and back down.

Ben pushed past Meg and T.J. and sprinted up the stairs toward Minnie. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out as her body crumpled into unconsciousness. Ben caught her just in time.

“She’s okay,” he said, lowering Minnie’s body to the stairs. “Just fainted.”

Meg wanted to go to her. But she couldn’t move, wouldn’t move. Not with T.J.’s arm around her.

“Dude,” T.J. said, motioning to Gunner. “See if there’s a note or something?”

It took Gunner a moment to process, then in typical wordless Gunner fashion, he disappeared into Lori’s room. His hand brushed against Kumiko’s arm as he passed her. She paused for half a second, then followed him inside.

“You’re still trembling,” T.J. whispered, his mouth just inches from her own. “Can I do anything?”

Meg caught her breath. T.J. was so close to her, as if he wanted to protect her. It was a new sensation for Meg, who spent most of her time trying to protect her best friend from the things in the world that might trigger her crippling anxiety and bipolar disorder. And now here was T.J. looking out for
her
for once.

“Fine,” she said, not sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. “I’m fine.”

“The phone doesn’t work,” Vivian said. She sounded slightly out of breath.

Nathan folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “That’s not good.”

“Wha … what happened?” Minnie said. Her voice sounded weak.

Ben propped her up. “You fainted.”

“I did?” Minnie sat up and looked past the body, finding Meg on the landing below. “Why?”

Meg opened her mouth to respond but she literally had no words. Thankfully, Minnie would have plenty, and Meg cringed as she watched Minnie’s eyes find the dangling body and the horror of it came rushing over her once again.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Minnie’s voice crescendoed with each repetition. She pointed a shaky hand down at Lori. “She’s dead. It’s a dead body. Oh my God. What do we do? How do we … I mean …”

Meg could hear the panic in her voice and prayed Minnie had actually packed her medications. If she didn’t, this would not end well.

“Don’t look,” Ben said, trying to guide Minnie away from the railing. But it was too late.

“Get it out! Get it away from me!” Minnie screamed. She looked right at Meg, as if she could make it all go away.

“She’s not an
it
!” Kenny roared. Meg turned and saw him standing in the doorway of his room, tree trunk–sized arms folded across his chest, brows low over his eyes. He’d been quiet the whole time, but suddenly he just exploded. His face was a deep shade of red, and he was shaking from head to toe.

“Of course not,” T.J. said calmly. “She didn’t mean it. She’s just freaked.”

Freaked was an understatement. Meg recognized a panic attack when she saw one. She snapped into caretaker mode, attempting to stem the tide. “Minnie, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Minnie sobbed. “It’s not, it’s not.”

“What’s wrong with her?” T.J. whispered in Meg’s ear.

“Panic attack,” Meg said out of the corner of her mouth. “She needs her meds.” Then she started up the stairs. “Come on. I’ll get your Klonopin.”

“It’s okay, I’ll take her,” Ben said, taking Minnie’s hand. He looked at her and smiled. “Do you know where it is?”

Minnie nodded slightly and they disappeared up the stairs to the garret.

Meg turned back to T.J. and caught a look of confusion on his face. “Does that happen a lot?” he asked softly.

Meg bit her lip. She’d kept Minnie’s secret for so long she didn’t quite know what to say. “Um …”

She was saved by Kumiko, who slowly emerged from the bedroom, Gunner close behind. She gripped a lined piece of paper in her hands and as she spoke, it was clear that she was trying in vain to control the tremor in her voice. “We found it. We found her suicide note.”

“Dude, really?” Nathan said.

Kumiko held the page up, shielding her face. It was written on strange paper with groups of parallel lines running across it. It took Meg a moment to recognize what it was—sheet music.

“C-can’t deal,” Kumiko read aloud. Her hand shook. “I should just end it all now. This voice will never sing again.”

Silence. Meg stared at the blue and gold runner that carpeted the second floor hallway. It wasn’t a particularly interesting rug, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at anyone. Maybe if she stood there long enough trying to forget what had happened, it would just go away? Maybe she’d wake up and discover this was all a horrible beer-induced dream?

Creeeeeeeak
.

Meg’s eyes involuntarily flitted toward the body. She couldn’t help it.

“I don’t believe it.” Kenny’s voice was strong and defiant, and clearly calmer than he’d been a minute ago. But his eyes and face were drawn, his jaw hard and defiant.

“Kenny,” T.J. started. “I’m so sor—”

“I don’t believe it,” Kenny repeated. He stared straight at Lori’s body, unblinking, unflinching. “She didn’t kill herself.”

“Dude,” Nathan said, putting a hand on his friend’s arm. “Dude, I think it’s pretty clear—”

“She. Didn’t. Kill. Herself,” Kenny repeated. Then he turned on his heel, pushed past Nathan into their room, and slammed the door behind him.

“Kenny!” Nathan followed Kenny into the room. “Dude, I didn’t mean …”

His voice trailed off as he shut the door behind him. Poor Kenny. Meg remembered him whispering into Lori’s ear before dinner, and the blush that spread across Lori’s face. She had been watching two people fall for each other, and now Lori was dead and Kenny was in shock. It seemed so … pointless.

Creeeeeeak.

That sound was starting to make Meg nauseous.

“Okay,” T.J. said. He gave Meg’s shoulder a squeeze and walked to the center of the balcony, his back to Lori’s body. “We need to find a phone that works and call the police.”

“On it.” Gunner grabbed Kumiko’s hand and half dragged her down the stairs.

“There’s one in the study,” Vivian called after them. She paused a moment, then ran lightly into her room and emerged pulling on an oversized sweater over her pajamas. “Better go with them,” she said to no one in particular. “Just in case.”

T.J. and Meg stood alone on the second-floor landing. Everyone else seemed to have a purpose—Ben was taking care of Minnie, Nathan was trying to calm Kenny down, and Kumiko, Gunner, and Vivian were calling the police. Meg felt like she should be doing something. Helping. Not just standing there like an idiot yearning for the strong arms of T. J. Fletcher to wrap themselves around her again.