The Escape (16 page)

As they neared Fletcher’s house, the police chief turned on his blinker and gently guided the car to the side of the road. Fletcher could see Avery straightening in the front seat.

“Dad, can you pull over more?”

The chief turned on the emergency hazards. “We’re fine where we are Avery. Now…”—he clicked off his seat belt, the release of it like a shot—“care to tell me what you two kids were doing outside of the Marshalls’ house? Thank God I was able to call Blount off as backup, or we could have had a standoff.”

Avery opened her mouth but her father held up his hand. “If you’re going to lie, save it.” He turned around in his seat. “Fletcher?”

Fletcher had answered the same questions asked a hundred different ways for Chief Templeton over the last two weeks, but it was terrifying to be questioned while sitting in the back of a police vehicle.

“We were—”

The chief’s eyebrows went up. “We?”

“Yeah, Dad, we,” Avery cut in. “Fletch and me, we wanted to see Mrs. Marshall.”

“Why?”

“We were looking for clues, okay?”

Fletcher could see the back of Chief Templeton’s neck go red. “I told you—”

“You stopped your investigation, Dad! What else were we supposed to do? Your impounded Fletcher’s car and searched his room and house. No one is out looking for the person who really did this!”

Fletcher could hear the conviction in Avery’s voice. He didn’t know if Avery was right or wrong anymore. He didn’t know if there was a monster out there in the world or in here, in the car.

Avery’s frustration was bubbling. She wanted to scream at both Fletcher and her father. She wanted them to stop talking and actually
do
something. She was tired of her classmates accusing Fletcher of murder and accusing her of being an accomplice. At least her father hadn’t heard that rumor yet.

The chief slowed his car in front of Fletcher’s house, and Avery caught Fletcher shrinking back in the rearview mirror. His face went weirdly slack. She followed his gaze.

“Hey, Fletch, who’s that man in front of the house with your mom?”

Fletcher whispered, “That’s my dad.”

• • •

“Did you know that was Fletcher’s dad?” Avery asked.

Her father didn’t answer, just shook his head with his jaws clenched together. Avery’s stomach shivered.

“Look, Dad, I’m really sorry—”

“Save it.”

They were quiet until he pulled into the garage and took his key from the ignition, killing the engine. Neither of them moved.

“I am so, so disappointed in you, Avery.”

Her father didn’t yell and didn’t even look at her when he said it—and that made it sting more. She couldn’t control her tears.

“I was just trying to help.”

“I know. Adam was your friend; Fletcher is your friend. But you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Avy. You just don’t. This isn’t about little kids and broken bones or baseball or whatever memories you have of those boys. When I say it’s police business, it’s not because I want to shut you out. It’s because I want to protect you. I’ve had years of police training. You haven’t. I thought you were old enough to understand that.”

“I am, Dad. But—”

“There are no buts. I can’t recuse myself from this case so you’re going to have to suck it up and listen to me. I am not happy with you.”

“Adam had a bunch of money in his bottom drawer. And he also had knives.”

“What?”

“Fletcher is starting to remember things.”

“Fletcher remembered that about Adam?”

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, unsure of what to say. “Doesn’t that make a difference in your investigation? You know there was a car in the lot that day, and Adam—Adam could have been dealing drugs or something.”

“How much money did he have? Did Fletcher know? Was it on Adam when they went for the hike?”

She followed her father out of the car and into the house. “It seemed like a lot of money. A couple thousand dollars at least. I—I mean, Fletcher didn’t know if Adam had it on him when they went hiking. But why would Adam need that kind of money walking in the woods?”

“Avery, a couple thousand dollars isn’t a huge sum of money.”

“I don’t have that kind of money stashed in my room! What if he was dealing drugs or something, Dad? He could have had enemies because of that. Or someone could have known that he had cash.”

“We don’t even know that he was carrying any money when he went off with Fletcher.”

Avery grabbed her father’s arm and shook it. “But it’s a possibility, right? You’ll check into it?”

“Yes, honey, and I will.” But Avery knew he wouldn’t.

• • •

Fletcher’s parents didn’t say anything when Chief Templeton brought him home, and they stayed silent while they walked into the house, Fletcher in tow. He knew what they were thinking and he didn’t care. They had no idea what was going on. They didn’t know how he felt with the weight of accusation pushing down on his chest while the whispers told him crazy things and made it hard to concentrate.

They’d never understood him.

Even when they were all together, his family never understood him. They all smiled like someone might snap their picture at any time, but none of them were happy. His mother was always jumpy. His father was hardly home, but when he was, his behavior was aggressive. And Susan…she had been sick since the day she was born. She was older than Fletcher but meek, with slight shoulders and a tiny frame. She was fragile.

Like any younger brother, Fletcher had liked to pester his sister—beheading her dolls, taking her stuff, calling her names. His father called it “brother stuff.” His mother would tell him to behave. And Susan would always cry, making everyone feel sorry for her. Still, sometimes he missed her.

“Fletcher?”

His parents were sitting across from each other at the dinner table, holding hands. His mother cleared her throat and straightened her skirt. His father had the look he seemed to always wear—wary, suspicious.

“Sit down, please. And tell us what happened.”

Fletcher recounted the same story that he and Avery had shared with Chief Templeton. Afterward, he felt relieved. His father hadn’t interrupted him or leaped up from his chair, yelling at him to “tell
the
truth—not
your
truth.” That was one of his favorite catchphrases when they all still lived together. He thought Fletcher was a liar. Even though his dad stood up for Fletcher, Susan had always been his favorite. Just the thought of that set Fletcher’s teeth on edge.

“We need you to tell us what happened in the woods.”

The
pssst, pssst, pssst
whispers were coming back. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened his eyes again, both parents were staring at him intently.

“Tell us from the beginning, Fletch,” his father said sternly. “The truth.”

His mother nodded. “We need to hear it. All of it.”

• • •

Avery couldn’t sleep.

Maybe they were in on it together… Stay away from him, Avy, at least for now… They found Adam. They found his body…

She massaged her temples, trying to connect the important details. If she were an investigator, what would she think? She briefly flashed back to the murder board at the police station and dismissed the idea of riding out there in the middle of the night. Instead she rolled out a piece of paper and took out some markers, slashing a long, black line across the middle of the paper. She started hatching a timeline.

12 o’clock: F
&
A pull into the parking lot @ Cascade (another car in parking lot)

6:07 p.m.: Dad gets call that Fletch is missing

8:40 p.m. next day: I find Fletch

5:00 a.m.: Talk to Fletch; he remembers nothing

She tapped her pen against her bottom lip and frowned. She didn’t have too many details, but it was a start. What she didn’t know was who had been with Fletch and Adam on that trail. Avery dropped her pen and flopped backward onto her bed.

“What else, what else, what else?” Her eyes skittered over her walls as if somehow the answer had been there all along, just waiting for her to stumble on it. What she did stumble on was the front page of the newspaper from the day that Fletcher had been found. She stood up and sifted through the stack of newspapers she had kept from each day that Fletch and Adam’s case was mentioned.

She scrutinized all of the pictures, looking for anyone suspicious in the crowd, anyone who showed up in multiple shots. Again, thinking of the fact that killers liked to insert themselves into investigations, and if Fletcher was at one of the press conferences or town halls, he would have been a target too.

Avery narrowed her eyes at the grainy picture of the search teams signing in. She recognized pretty much everyone and tossed the page aside. Underneath was another paper, this one bearing the thick, black headline “The Escape” and featuring a school picture of Fletcher, something that wasn’t particularly recent because he still had that hint of boyish baby fat in his cheeks and he was smiling. Avery remembered last year’s yearbook shot of Fletch. He wasn’t smiling but he wasn’t frowning either. His eyes focused directly on the camera. His shoulders were slack underneath the oversized T-shirt he wore.

“Not warm and fuzzy enough,” Avery guessed.

The other papers reused the same few shots, so she went online to search. There was a shot from her dad’s press conference, the chief at the podium caught in midsentence, a cluster of rapt townspeople around him. Fletcher was in the background, nearly hidden under a tree with his bike. Avery flipped to the next image. This one showed a group of nurses and doctors huddled around Fletcher, who sat in a wheelchair, a shy smile on his face. There were balloons and someone was holding out a cake with “Get Well Soon” scrolled in blue icing. It was the day he had been released.

She scrolled through a few more shots until her eyelids grew heavy. The only person who appeared in every picture was Fletcher.

He had to talk to Avery. If he could make her see, she would understand. She was probably the only person who would understand. After last night, it was obvious that his parents didn’t. They’d said things to him in nice, soothing tones, but the whispers were so loud that he couldn’t concentrate on what his mom and dad were saying.

“They’re going to send you away,” the whisper hissed. “Your mother sent Susan away to protect her, but they’re not going to protect you… No one is going to protect you.”

The murmurs stayed in the back of his mind. They gave him a headache.

Fletcher rolled over and picked up the phone.

Avery answered on the second ring. “Fletcher?”

“I need to go back into the woods.”

There was a pause and Fletcher counted out the seconds.

“Are you sure?”

Determination pumped through his veins like adrenaline. “If I can get back in the woods, I know I can remember something.”

He felt good. He knew it was only a matter of time before this whole thing could be over. He knew he had to be the one who ended it, but he knew Avery would have to help. It had to be now because his parents… He didn’t want to think about them.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve started to remember a few things, but I feel like if I go back there, maybe even to the same spot, I could remember more. Can you come?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

Avery didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

• • •

Avery kicked off the covers and considered what to tell her father. “I’m running off to the woods with Fletcher, the boy you told me to stay away from, and we’re going to catch a killer” wasn’t going to fly. She dressed quickly and instead penned a note—“Went on a walk with Ellison. Be back in a few hours!” She signed it with smiley faces and hearts to absorb her guilt from lying. She grabbed her orange search-and-rescue jacket and stuffed it in her backpack, then headed outside to wait for Fletcher.

He rolled up almost immediately.

“Did you have to sneak out?” he asked once they hit the main road.

“Depends what you mean by ‘sneak.’”

“To sneak. The act of sneaking. To do something in a stealthy or furtive manner.”

She looked at him, impressed. “Stealthy and furtive?”

“Dictionary dot com.”

“Nice.” She flashed a wide smile back, and it was easy for Fletcher to believe that it was a normal day, that he and Avery were going for a hike in the woods. He’d packed a couple of waters and two peanut-butter sandwiches in his backpack, and then at the last minute, he threw in a half bag of Kettle Chips, an entire sleeve of Oreo cookies, and an apple, just in case she was the healthy type.

The radio hummed in the background. But as they drove farther from town, there came a rustling noise like static. Fletcher batted at his ear, trying to get it to stop.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Fletcher forced a smile. “Just thought there was a fly or something.”

He closed one eye and cocked his head, giving it a sharp shake like a swimmer might do after a dive.

Avery gripped the door handle, nerves ratcheting up as she kept her eyes focused hard on the road. “Fletch, keep your eye on the road! Do you want me to see if the bug has started a colony in there or something?” Tentatively, she unclenched the door handle and scooched closer to Fletcher, as close as her seat belt would allow.

She gently tugged on his earlobe, but he pulled away so hard that his head smacked his side window.

“Omigosh!”

“What are you doing?” His heart was hammering and the whispers had reached a roaring crescendo. If Avery got too close, if she touched him, would she hear the whispers too? Would she know he was crazy—no. Not crazy. He wasn’t crazy.

“I’m sorry.” She scooted all the way back into her seat, then gripped the shoulder belt tightly.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were going to—you surprised me is all.” He smiled at Avery and she smiled back, her lips pressed together tightly.

“Sorry,” she said again, looking at her lap.

They drove the rest of the way to Cascade Mountain in silence. In his mind, Fletcher cursed the whispers, and his own stupidity and weirdness.

“So I thought that if we kind of retraced me and Adam’s trail, maybe that would trigger a few memories.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice tentative. “That sounds good.”

• • •

Fletcher pulled into a parking spot and Avery kicked open the door, squinting up at the sky. The blue had turned to a flat gray, wisps of fog starting to blot out the sun.

“Looks like it might rain later,” she said. “We should probably be pretty quick out here.”

Fletcher didn’t answer.

There was only one car in the parking lot—a busted-up VW van covered in bumper stickers and in dire need of a wash.

“There was a car in the lot when you and Adam came too, right?”

Fletcher nodded, his eyes flicking over the bus. “Yeah, but it was a different car.”

“What kind was it?”

He shouldered a backpack from his trunk. She wasn’t sure what he had in it, but it looked heavy. “I don’t think I remember.”

Avery stepped close enough to him that she could smell the clean scent of detergent on his navy-blue Henley. “Think.”

He grimaced with annoyance, but Fletcher obliged, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. “I think it was red. No, maroon. A sedan. Not a van.”

Avery pulled a notebook from her own backpack and scrawled “maroon” and “sedan.”

“Nice notepad, detective.”

It was one of her father’s that she had pilfered from his office. She smiled and shrugged. “My dad’s the chief, but I can’t have a ‘get out of jail free’ card. I figured a free notebook was an acceptable door prize. Anything else you remember about the car?”

Fletcher huffed and Avery wasn’t sure if it was from the weight of his pack or because he was tired of her questions.

“No.” He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Okay.” She slid the notebook into the pocket of her orange search-and-rescue jacket. “You said Adam threw out some trash before you hit the trail.”

“I did?”

“Uh-huh. He said that people were jerks, picked up some trash, and then threw it away. Don’t you remember telling me that?”

“Sure. Yeah. Of course I do.”

Avery turned toward the mouth of the trail. She found Fletcher’s hand and squeezed it before letting it go. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Well, if at any time being here gets to be too much for you, promise me you’ll let me know. If you feel uncomfortable, we’ll turn around.”

Fletcher’s nostrils flared. “I said I’m fine, okay? God! It’s not like I’m going to snap or anything!”

Avery stared, openmouthed. She couldn’t remember ever hearing Fletch raise his voice, let alone yell at her. Now he was huffing, little bits of spittle forming at the corners of his mouth.

“Okay.” She instinctively took a step back, wanting to put a little distance between them. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to let you know that it’s cool—”

“I know,” Fletcher said, his voice lowered but still agitated. “I know it’s cool. Can we just get on with it?”

“Sure.” Avery glanced up over his shoulder and Fletcher spun around.

“Is someone behind me?”

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “No.”

Avery knew that returning to the woods would be traumatic, but why was Fletcher behaving so erratically? He had a sheen of sweat on his forehead even though they hadn’t yet taken a single step on the trail.

Give
him
a
break
, she said, calming herself.
This
has
to
be
hard
for
him. Think about…
She tried to shut down her mind, but the image was already there. Her father, holding her hand over the center console, the vibration from the engine quaking up her arm.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Avery?”

“Dad, watch the road.”

He
sighed, his attention focused on his driving. “I know Dr. Rickson thinks this is a good idea, but I’m not so sure.”

“You drive this road every day.”

She
saw
the
muscle
jump
against
his
jaw.

“I don’t like it,” he said, his voice gravelly.

“You can’t keep avoiding it every time I’m in the car.”

“I don’t mind, Avy.”

“I do mind.”

Her
stomach
quivered. It wasn’t butterflies; butterflies were too nice for what she was feeling. It was more like bat wings flapping or spider feet stomping.

Her
father
cracked
a
window
and
the
heady
scent
of
pine
filled
the
car. It was fresh and spicy, a scent that Avery and her mother used to love. They would tromp through the forest and her mother would throw back her head, open her arms and yell, “Can you smell that, Avs? That’s the smell of heaven!”

Heaven. The word stuck in her throat.

“We’re almost to the bend,” her dad said, slowing the GMC to a crawl, then a stop. When he pulled the keys from the ignition, the silence was overwhelming. She was relieved when the tick-tick-tick of the cooling engine started.

“Do you want to go closer or stay here?” her father asked gently.

Avery’s eyes were already fixed. She slid out of the car without answering. With each step she took, she felt like the vise on her heart was squeezing tighter. The scar on the tree was unmistakable. A huge branch had ripped from the trunk, exposing the yellow-white flesh of the tree beneath its bark.

Avery
sucked
in
a
shaky
breath. Taking another step closer caused physical pain.

Her
mother’s car had slid into a gully on the side of the road. Tire marks snaked out behind it. A few broken chunks of metal and a shower of broken glass still dotted pine needles and brush. It had been nearly two months; Avery wondered if they would ever get cleaned up, or if the detritus would just become part of the landscape.

The snap of saplings brought Avery back to the trail in the forest. Fletcher was a good ten feet in front of her, whacking at low tree limbs and brush with a stick. She caught up with him, branches snapping beneath her feet, and Fletcher turned, stick held out in front of him like a weapon. He was breathing hard again—small, shallow breaths.

Avery jumped back. “Whoa!”

Fletcher tapped the tip of the stick on the ground. “Sorry. You surprised me.”

“Next time I’ll wear a bell,” she said under her breath.

They walked along in silence again. Every few feet he’d pause, eyes darting from side to side. Avery thought he was just trying to remember the way he and Adam had come, but as they went deeper into the forest, she wasn’t so sure.

She licked her lips. “So, anything coming to you?”

“You miss your mom?” He didn’t stop or look at her, just kept walking.

Avery was taken aback. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“My mom’s weird.”

Avery nodded, walking a foot behind Fletcher. “She seems okay.”

“She thinks I did it.”

Avery’s stomach plummeted, her chest tight. “She thinks you…”

“Killed Adam.” He stopped, then turned, a loose smile on his lips. “Everyone thinks I did it.”

“Who do you mean by
everyone
?” Sweat beaded her upper lip. “That’s not what I think.”

He looked her up and down, that weird smile still playing at the corners of his lips. Avery crossed her arms and straightened with bravado she didn’t feel. She felt vulnerable. Exposed.

“I don’t think you killed Adam, Fletch. I know you too well. I know you would never do something like that.”

He narrowed his eyes. The air between them crackled with electricity.

“Let’s keep walking.”

• • •

Fletcher didn’t know why Avery kept falling behind him. The incline wasn’t that steep and they weren’t walking that fast.

She
is
scared. She is scared of me.
The thought burned in his gut. Why should she be afraid of him?

Killer…killer…killer
, the whispers chanted.

He tried to brush them away but they were persistent:
Killer…killer…kill her.

“Shut up!”

Avery looked at him, startled. “I didn’t say anything.”

Embarrassment burned up Fletcher’s spine, flushing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Avery. I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean anything.”

They were nearing the clearing by the gully.

“My God, Fletch. Dude, you’ve got to see this…”

“Did you hear that?” Fletcher asked suddenly.

Avery looked around, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Hear what?”