Page 42 of They Say a Girl Died Here

“She’s fragile. I get it.”

There was another long, awkward pause.

“It was nice of your friend Melissa to let Callie see the baby cow. You like her?”

Anna nodded.

“Good. It’s hard to make friends as you get older.” Listening to her, Anna realized that it had been a while since Mom had a group of friends. When had that stopped? After Caroline had finished kindergarten, maybe? When Grandma or Anna started taking her to school on the mornings Mom worked? No school drop-off mom-fun for Claire. She’d had colleagues, not really friends. And definitely not since they’d moved.

“The world gets smaller,” Mom continued. “Every day the same, just struggling to get by. And most people are in couples. They hang out with other couples.”

“I guess.” Anna picked at her fingernails as Mom let out another sigh.

“Lucas didn’t come for dinner. He said he might, but he hasn’t even messaged.” The words were heavy with a resigned sadness, and Anna felt greasy with guilt.

“He’s probably busy.”

“Since Friday? No, something’s changed. I can feel it. I thought it was too good to be true, and I guess I was right. I really liked him, though. He’s uncomplicated.” Mom’s smile was so fragile Anna thought her breath would shatter it. “It was nice to have that feeling for a while. Something new. Exciting. Shame it didn’t last.” She straightened her spine. “Maybe this was too much for him. Grandma being the way she is. Kid still in school.” Anna waited for her to mention the thing, to add Anna to the list, almost hoping she would so she could be angry again and not feel so awful about what she’d done, but Mom didn’t. “Too much real life.”

“Too much estrogen,” Anna added, trying to lighten the mood, and Mom let out a small laugh.

“Not for Grandma. I mean, she was never overflowing with the caring juice, but she is way past the change.”

“She’s not so bad.” It was true, Grandma could be a grade-A judgmental bitch, but at the same time, Anna didn’t dislike her anymore. They’d smoked side by side. She’d seen her vulnerable. Maybe she was too tired for any level of hate.

It was Mom’s turn to look surprised. “Maybe.”

“She got us this house,” Anna said. Dead girls. They say a girl died here. “And don’t stress about Lucas. If he can’t take you at your worst, he doesn’t deserve you at your best, sister, and all that bullshit.”

That made Mom laugh out loud, a flashback to the old days, before the thing, when they would laugh together at those Facebook memes. “Hell yeah, girlfriend. Adds wineglass emoji.”

Anna smiled then too and could almost convince herself that Lucas had been going to break up with Mom anyway. She would convince herself. She had to.

“Good night, Anna,” Mom said, her own towel hugged to her chest. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom,” Anna replied softly. The rest of what she wanted to say was glue in her throat. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m too fucked-up. I’m too afraid. It’s not you, it’s not him, it’s me. Maybe she could take it back with Lucas if the police found no connection to the girls. Maybe she could explain. Maybe, maybe, maybe. She remembered how he’d passed her in the hallway. The closeness. The tight curls of hair on his chest. How afraid she’d been. Maybe you need to get laid yourself. Apology or not, she couldn’t live with him in the house. He fucked around. He was dirty and wrong. Anna waited for the click of Mom’s door closing before flopping back on the bed. And anyway, Mom would never find out.

47

Despite herself, she drifted off during episode three of a podcast about the LeBaron cult and the women who escaped it, and fell into a strange liminal space of jumbled dreams, as if pieces of different movies had been madly cut and spliced together.

As she tossed and turned, she was in the basement, trying to get up the stairs to get out, her own bloody hand on the wall. Grandma staring at her, eyes wide as she repeated over and over, “They say a girl died here.”

Finding Grandma in the hallway at night by the carpet, but this time there was blood staining it, Grandma muttering, “Too late, too late,” and when she saw Anna looking at her, she pressed her hands to her ears and screamed so loud that she startled Anna back into the waking world, where she lay for a moment, disoriented in the night, until her breathing calmed and trembling subsided, leaving her with a throbbing headache and a need to pee.

She forced herself up and out into the darkness of the house, disturbing its rest. There was no sound from downstairs, and, looking over the banister, she saw the hallway was empty. Good. She didn’t have the energy for any of Grandma’s weirdness.

On her way back from the bathroom, she saw Caroline’s door was open a crack, and she looked inside, her little sister fast asleep, the covers kicked off, her beautiful hair fanned out on her pillow. She thought about how Mom had said she’d been on FaceTime with Holly, flushed and proud. Anna would put money on Holly and her friend perhaps not having started their periods yet. Caroline had crossed a threshold they hadn’t reached. Magical. Mystical. Terrifying and seductive. They would be desperate for it right up until the moment it arrived. She closed the door, leaving Caroline to her own, hopefully more pleasant, dreams.

It was only four thirty, but outside, the endless land was breaking the surface of night, becoming visible again. They were safe. She crawled under her sheets as exhaustion and her headache gripped her, and fell into a deep sleep, one that was punctured only with occasional flashes of things her brain wouldn’t allow her to remember but that she’d seen. Different masks. Men doing things to her body that she knew only from the outside when they shared the photos and videos. Things that trapped her. She tossed and turned, murmuring into the dawn, the names almost surfacing, until all the dead girls pushed them back down, demanding that empty space, claiming it as their own.

48

When the cruiser pulled up just before ten, Anna was drinking her first coffee of the day, bone-tired, her head still thumping. Caroline was already at school, but Mom was home and Dr. Burdett had arrived with more baked goods—scones this time—and was going to take Grandma out for a drive. It was all too busy, and she wished she’d stayed in bed. The sound of the car outside and the sight of both Todd and Sheriff Adams getting out, however, got her moving quickly. Holy shit. She hurried to the door, but Mom was there first. Had Anna’s wonderings found roots? Could Lucas have been involved with the murders after all?

Sheriff Adams was grave as he took off his hat, nodding at Dr. Burdett and Grandma, curious mice in the hallway, before turning to Mom.

“Sorry to disturb your morning, ma’am. We just need to follow up on something with Anna, if that’s okay.”