This Is How It Ends (7 page)

“Who else what?”

“Who else might want Randall Cleary dead?”

I was not comfortable with this. At all. “I don't really know,” I said, deciding to plead the Fifth on the rest of this conversation before I got my ass kicked by someone.

Lincoln took a few more notes and flipped another page or two. Bob smiled at me, and I felt everything inside me unclench. We were done.

Then Lincoln asked, “Who took you there that night, Riley?”

“What night?”

“The night you met Randall Cleary. Natalie's father.”

I didn't answer, my face burning, sweat starting on my brow.

“I know you don't want to tell on anyone,” Bob said gently. “But it's important. This is a murder investigation, Riley.”

“Listen, kid.” Lincoln stepped forward, forcing me to look at him. “You don't want an obstruction of justice charge or anything else that'd mess up your record. You're a senior, right?”

I nodded.

“Smart, too, from what I hear. Colleges don't look too favorably on a criminal record.” Clearly he was the bad cop.

“It was Moose,” I said softly. God, I hoped he'd understand. And that he had nothing to hide.

“Moose?” Lincoln said impatiently.

“Eugene Martin,” Bob told him. “That other kid out there.”

I looked up in time to see them exchange a meaningful glance. My stomach rolled. “Are we done?” I asked, starting to stand. I'd just thrown Moose under the bus.

“One more thing,” Bob said, holding up a finger. “Where were you last night?”

“Me? I was at the Dash party. At the Peterses'.”

Bob nodded. “Until when?”

“Uh . . .” Holy shit, were they checking my alibi? It was amazing how even the idea of it short-circuited my brain. I couldn't remember at all what time we left. “Till maybe twelve? One?” I shook my head. “I'm not sure.”

Lincoln wrote something down. “And what happened after you left?”

“Trip drove me home.”

“Just you?”

“No, all of us. Me and Sarah, Natalie . . .” I trailed off, staring at Lincoln, who was scribbling furiously in his notebook.

“So you were at the Clearys' house last night.” Bob met my eyes, and I could feel that my ears were bright red.

“For a minute. To drop off Nat.”

“But you don't remember what time?”

“I . . . I'm not sure.”

“And then you were back there. First thing this morning,” Bob said. “When we spoke.”

I nodded.

“How did you know her dad had been killed?”

“Tannis called me.”

“Tannis Janssen?”

I nodded.

“How'd she know?”

“Trip heard it. On the police scanner.”

Bob nodded. Lincoln looked up from his notes to ask, “So where were you between midnight and two a.m.?”

“At home,” I said. “I mean, I think I got there before midnight. And then I went to bed.”

“Can anyone verify that? Your mom?”

I shook my head. “No. She was at work.”

Lincoln wrote something down, then looked up at me, his eyes sharp. “Is there anything else you think we should know?”

Immediately that night at the cave jumped to mind. How could it not, after Nat had predicted this very thing? I could feel my neck hot, cheeks flushed. There was no way I was going to tell them. I shook my head. “No.”

Lincoln raised his eyebrows, slowly. “Nothing?” he asked.

It occurred to me in that instant that they'd be talking to the rest of them—Trip, Sarah, Tannis. Maybe already had. And maybe one of them had talked about the binoculars. But I couldn't backtrack now. “No,” I said. “Not that I can think of.”

Lincoln eyed me for an extra second, then slowly closed his notebook. “If you change your mind, Riley, you give us a call, 'kay?” He stood, eyes on me the whole time.

“Thanks for cooperating, Riley,” Bob said. “We'll be in touch.”

I nodded, stifling the urge to wipe my forehead or throw up, and left the office.

CHAPTER 9

WALKING INTO SCHOOL MONDAY, YOU
could see it in everyone's eyes, even before you heard the whispers.

“The gun belonged to her father,” the principal's secretary was saying when I went in for my late pass. “It was still at the scene, and—” She saw me listening and dropped her voice.

“. . . questioning her
all night
,” Caitlin Trahn told a friend at her locker, flipping her dark hair before adding, “I mean, my dad said she was
in
the house . . .”

The best information came from Matty Gretowniak. His mom worked for Children's Services. “Yeah, she was inside,” he answered when I caught up with him in the hall before physics. “Said she was in her room sleeping. Didn't hear or see a thing.”

“Really?”

“Seems pretty far-fetched,” he observed. “I know you're friends with her, but c'mon, a gun goes off in your house—your
trailer—
and you don't notice?”

I could see it on other people's faces too. I wasn't the only one wondering if Nat might have done it. But I didn't want to hash that out with Matty. “Soooo,” I said, looking at him pointedly. “You and Tannis?”

His response was immediate. “What'd she tell you?”

“Plenty.”

“Really?” He had such a weird, nervous look that I was pretty sure I didn't want to hear any more about whatever had happened. I was already getting some awful mental pictures of the two of them. “No, man. I'm just messing with you.”

“Oh,” he said, relieved. “Okay.”

Matt and I headed for our seats in physics, and I peeked over at Sarah, who was already watching me, her eyes serious. Trip had told me the police had been to see her on Sunday too. And him. And Tannis.

Mr. Ruskovich shut the door, facing us somberly. “I'm sure you've all heard about Natalie Cleary's father?” Everyone nodded. “Tragic,” he said, shaking his head. “In light of it I think it appropriate to suspend our study of forensics.” He scanned the room and, maybe seeing some disappointment, added, “At least for today. These things take time to sink in, and I don't want to move ahead with this project if it hits too close to home for anyone.” He paused, and then added, “We'll decide sometime next week, but in the interim, please feel free to talk to me about it—in class or privately—if you like. Okay?”

We nodded.

“What I'd like to cover today instead is—”

“Please, not particle theory,” Matty muttered.

“I'll spare you,” Mr. Ruskovich said. “But only because I think we're all processing enough right now. Let's discuss kinematics.”

***

The four of us huddled up at lunch: me, Trip, Sarah, and Tannis. The eyes of all of Buford High followed us, blazing into our backs as we sat at a table near the center aisle. I was afraid to talk or look around. We lasted less than five minutes before Sarah suggested, “Want to go to the quad?”

Even though it was forty degrees outside, we all did. The eyes followed us to the doorway, eager for scraps about our conspicuously absent friend. I still felt them as the four of us split down the halls toward our respective lockers for coats and hats and gloves.

Tannis was already at the picnic table when I went out. She was bundled into a blue down jacket and scarf, picking at her fingernails, her head bowed.

I climbed onto the bench across from her.

“She's still down there, you know.” She didn't have to tell me who she was talking about.

“With the police?”

Tannis nodded, flicking her eyes to me. “Does that mean they think she did it?”

“It could mean lots of stuff,” I said, trying to picture Nat with the cops, being questioned like I'd been, her dad dead. Natalie was tough, but not like that. Not hard. “Maybe she doesn't have anywhere else to go. Maybe they just have her with, like, a foster family or something. Who else does Nat have?”

“I don't know. No one?” She rubbed her forehead, admitting shakily, “I'm freaking out, Riley.”

“We all are.”

Trip and Sarah joined us then, Sarah's cheeks red from the cold. They matched her coat, one she'd complained mildly was worn at the edges, last year's style. She looked beautiful, and I thought of how it had felt to stand beside her at John Peters's. Two nights ago that felt like two million.

“What do you think happened?” I asked when we were all at the table. No one else was outside today; the air was sharp with the brittle cold. Sarah shook her head, still looking spooked.

“Damned if I know, Ri,” Trip said. “Sounds like the police don't either.”

“People think it might have been her,” I said.

He nodded. “I got that from the stuff the cops asked. I don't believe it.”

“Really?”

“It's just not Natalie.” Trip was adamant.

“Yeah, I know, Trip. But her dad—”

“Has been out of hand for as long as any of us can remember,” he said, cutting me off. “But we don't know that he's ever done anything to hurt anyone. Except himself. It's all speculation and suspicion and rumor.” He shook his head. “If he was really abusive, don't you think Natalie would have done something about it? In all these years, with all the people who've offered to step in? Why would she suddenly decide to shoot him?”

“Maybe she just snapped,” I said. “Maybe he came after her.”

“Then she'd have done whatever she's been doing the last ten or fifteen years to deal with it,” Trip said angrily.

“So if it wasn't her,” Tannis said, “who was it? And how could she have been there and not heard anything?”

“We don't know that she didn't,” Trip pointed out. I was about to tell him what Matty's mom had said, but realized it was just more hearsay. “Maybe it was a disgruntled client,” Trip continued. “Or a girlfriend?”

“Ewww.” Tannis wrinkled her nose. “He had girlfriends?”

I thought of the woman passed out on the couch, and Sarah said, “Nat mentioned his ‘lady friends' a couple times.”

“Ugh,” Tannis said. “Parents and dating? Awkward.”

“I'm not sure you'd call what they did dating,” Trip said.

“Ewww,” Tannis said again.

“The cops were asking about drugs and stuff,” I said, realizing that I'd actually been the one to bring it up.

“And?” Trip asked.

“Maybe they have a suspect.” One I gave them. Moose had looked like he wanted to strangle me when he'd walked out of his chat with them.

“If looks could kill, Randall Cleary would've been dead at the mountain,” Sarah said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But I don't think Bill Winston hauled up to the trailer in the middle of the night and shot him.”

Sarah nodded.

“The cops were asking me who I thought might have done it,” I said. “‘Who would have wanted him dead?' were their actual words.”

Trip snorted. “Everyone?” He said. “Except Nat.”

“Trip,” Sarah said, “you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sorry, grandma,” he said. “The fact is, there probably isn't anyone in town you could come up with a longer list of suspects for.”

I nodded. “It sounds like the cops are keeping it wide open right now.”

“So they think Nat did it or don't?” Trip asked.

“I don't think they have a clue.”

“That's not likely to change,” Sarah said. She was joking, but there was more than a kernel of truth there. Buford's finest hadn't had much to investigate since someone had stolen Larry Bushman's lawn mower six months ago. And they'd only dug into that because Larry had called them about it every day. People up here tended to live and let live. It was the way we were all brought up. Why stick your nose into other people's business unless it affected you? People gossiped plenty but rarely got involved, and the cops tended to look the other way unless their hand was forced. I don't think it had ever been forced like it was being forced now.

“But, guys,” Tannis said, “what about those binoculars?”

We stared at her. “What about them?” Trip said.

“I mean, I know I'm freaking out, but what if . . .” Tannis took a ragged breath. “What if we saw the future?”

There it was. None of us said anything right away, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'd wondered the same thing sometime between watching the red-and-blue police lights outside Natalie's trailer and now.

I ignored the shiver down my spine. “That's impossible.”

“I don't know,” she said. “The stuff I saw was so
real
. Not like it'd be if I made it up. The strangest things came to me about walking with those kids. I mean, I felt like I loved them or something.” Tannis looked embarrassed. “I don't even
like
kids. And my shoes hurt and it was blazing hot. And I was crampy—”

“TMI,” I said, trying to calm the anxiety racing through me. I'd smelled French fries in mine and had felt a weird nervousness that definitely wouldn't have been part of a fantasy or hallucination.

“But it was like it was really happening,” Tannis insisted. “Or would. And now this.”

“It's impossible,” I said again.

“How do you know?” she demanded.

“It's against the laws of physics. We studied it in class last year.” Another of Mr. Ruskovich's lessons. But even as I said it, I wondered if it was true. You couldn't
go
to the future, but did that mean you couldn't
see
it? I wasn't about to share any doubts with Tannis. “All that stuff in books and movies . . . it's all just fantasy.”

“Really?” she asked hopefully.

“There's one way to find out for sure,” Trip chimed in.

I knew immediately what he meant. “I'm not going back there,” I said. “That's crazy, Trip. After what happened?”

“You're not curious?” he countered.

Oh, I was definitely curious. Could it really be my future? Me with Sarah? I glanced at her and saw the weirdest expression on her face. Nervous, almost guilty. What had she seen that she was afraid to tell?

“What are you guys talking about?” Tannis asked.

“Going back to the binoculars,” Sarah said. “Right?” She looked at Trip.

He nodded. “You just said it couldn't be the future, so what can looking hurt?” he asked me.

“It was definitely
something
, though,” I said. “Hallucinations or whatever.”

“So?” Trip said.

I looked around but could see that none of them got it. “What if it's what we first talked about—subconscious desires or something? What if whatever happened that night called up things we'd been thinking deep down.” I saw Tannis about to interrupt. “Maybe
so
deep we're not even aware of it.”

“And . . . ,” Trip prompted.

“And changed how we think or act. Maybe it didn't predict what happened to Nat's dad but caused it.”

No one said anything for a minute.

“You really think she did it?” Trip said quietly.

“Not the Nat we've always known,” I said. “But what if it
was
a hallucinogen? Something chemical that got on our skin? Into our brains? That night last year when we were on acid? We were acting pretty weird.”

“You think?” Trip said sarcastically.

“And to tell you the truth, I didn't feel right for a few days after.”

He nodded slowly.

“What if this is like that and somehow it changed Natalie?” I said, then added, “We have no idea what we're dealing with.”

Trip pursed his lips, thinking. Finally he said, “Don't you think we should figure it out, Ri? I mean, the police are investigating a murder and holding our friend—maybe as a suspect. She saw it coming. Don't you think we should check out the thing that showed it to her?”

I was silent because I didn't want to go back. “You didn't even see anything,” I said to him.

“All the more reason to look again,” Trip countered. “So I can see if you're all just nuts. We're the only ones who know about the binoculars,” he continued quietly. “If they have anything to do with what happened to Nat's dad—by changing things or predicting them or whatever—the police will have no idea to even consider them.

“Which could be good or bad,” he added after a few seconds.

“Depending on . . . ,” I said.

“On whether or not Nat had anything to do with it.”

I realized that for all his certainty, Trip actually wasn't that certain at all. Typical.

“So let's just tell the cops about them and be done,” Tannis said. A confused look passed over her face. “Actually, that wouldn't be a very good idea, would it?”

“They'd think we're crazy,” Sarah said.

“Or worse,” I said. “Find out that we're not.”

“We have to go back,” Trip said. “I don't think there's really a choice.”

“There's always a choice,” I said, but it was halfhearted. I didn't want to admit it and definitely didn't want to
do
it, but Trip was right. We had to look again.