“We’re graduating,” he explained for me. “I think Lee’s worried that when we leave, anything we haven’t said leaves with us. Is that right, Lee?”
I nodded and managed to mumble a quiet, “Yeah.”
“I see,” Detective Jenner said. “That’s admirable, Leanne. I can understand why this is something you’d feel the need to come clean about. But can I give you some advice? Not as a police officer, but as an adult concerned for your safety.”
“Um, sure,” I said.
“Keep this story to yourself.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I know it’s been a while since I’ve been in Virgil County. And maybe things are different now. I doubt it but …” He sighed. “People were passionate about that Sarah McHale story. They aren’t going to take it too well if anyone tries to take that away from them. I remember what happened with the Gaynor girl. Have you heard from her since she left town?”
I shook my head.
“Point is, I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you, Leanne. You’ve been through enough. If I were you, I’d just continue to keep this to myself.”
When we left the office a few minutes later, it felt like my emotions were washing over me in waves. Disappointment, then frustration, then guilt. The only thing telling Detective Jenner had done was make me feel less certain about telling anyone else.
Denny must’ve known what I was thinking, because once we were in my truck and headed back to town, he asked, “So, what now?”
“I have no idea.”
“Are you going to tell Sarah’s parents?”
“Should I?”
Denny thought about it before answering. “I don’t know. On one hand, they deserve to know the truth. Especially before they write that book. On the other … this is going to really upset them. Like … a lot.”
“You’re so articulate,” I said.
“Compared to you? Hell yeah I am.” He flashed a quick smile, then shook his head. “I don’t know, Lee. It’s been three years. I don’t know what you do at this point. Detective Jenner might be right. Might be better just to let it go.”
“What about Kellie, though?”
“She’s not here. Maybe she’s somewhere where people care less about this story. I hope so. Either way, it’s not like you can change what happened to her.”
“But if the McHales’ book is published …”
“Yeah. That’s going to suck no matter where she lives.” He blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. But whatever you decide to do, I’ve got your back. Not sure that means much, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”
“Thanks, Denny.”
Detective Jenner was right—people in this town love their stories about Sarah. And after she died, there were a lot of other stories that popped up, too. Stories about the person she was when she was alive. How kind and generous and genuine she was.
There are dozens of stories out there. Almost everyone wants to say they knew Sarah. Everyone wants to claim a piece of her.
And yet, not a single one of those stories includes Richie. Because, as well as people think they knew her, almost no one knew she’d been in love with Richie McMullen since she was eleven. Or that they’d been “officially” dating (secretly) since the eighth grade.
If you google Richie’s obituary, you’ll learn that he had just turned fifteen two weeks before the shooting, that he was survived by both parents and five siblings. That his family is Catholic.
What it won’t tell you is that Richie didn’t own a scrap of clothing that wasn’t camo. Camo pants, camo jacket, camo everything. Sarah used to tease him mercilessly about it. “You know this is a school, not the woods, right?” she’d say. “You really think you’re gonna kill any turkeys in the cafeteria?”
“No,” Richie replied. “Because it’s deer season.”
In his class photos, he had almost-white hair. But you won’t find any pictures online of the time in seventh grade when he dyed it bright orange with Kool-Aid for a Halloween costume. It looked ridiculous, and it took weeks for it to completely wash out. By Thanksgiving, even the teachers were calling him “Carrot” half the time. That nickname stuck around. Sarah never called him that, but a lot of his friends did. He even signed my eighth-grade yearbook as “Carrot McMullen.”
Richie and I weren’t very close. He was dating Sarah, so our paths crossed constantly, but we never really went beyond friendly acquaintances. Most of the time, I was sure I got on his nerves, because I was always around, always the third wheel. Sarah never wanted to leave me behind, which meant Richie didn’t get to, either.
