Page 54

“I knew it was you,” she says in a level voice, as if she’s fully aware that I’m watching nearby. “A person don’t change that much.” From a bag crossed over her body, she pulls out a full white flower. “You remembered she loved gardenias.” She sniffs the bloom, before twirling it in her fingers. “This place … a lot of folks stay away. Say it’s haunted by ghosts. Some say they see a woman running through the woods sometimes.” Staring off quietly for a moment, her eyes seem lost in thought. “While back, I’d come here every so often, hopin’ to see Maw Maw, or you.” Gaze lowered, she fidgets while she seems to be collecting her thoughts. “See, at first, I thought you died, too. I remember the news stories talkin’ about it. My whole damn world caved in on me, an’ I couldn’ breathe. For a long time. Only been in the last few years that I finally came to terms with it all.” Exhaling a breath, she shakes her head, and her voice cracks when she says, “And then you came back.”

I want so badly to emerge from my hiding spot, to embrace my old friend and feel the warmth of familiarity, but I made a promise to myself. To get in, find what I’m looking for, and get out. I can’t afford attachments, or distractions.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re here for, or why you came back, but … I really need to talk. I need to know what happened.” The shine in her eyes forces me to look away, so I don’t tear up myself. “They took her heart. I don’t get why, but they apparently carved it out of her and took it. What’s a body without a heart? Especially hers. Was hard to bury her that way, you know? Didn’t feel whole. Same with your daddy. They haven’t found the ones who did it, either. They’re still walking free. No justice. You think all these missing girls round here is just coincidence?”

Unfortunately, their faces were hidden behind animal skulls in most of the footage, so whoever did it was never identified. Based on the few brief snippets I can remember of what happened to Maw Maw Day, I’m not sure I’d have the level of detachment required to describe something like that to her. And why would she want to know?

“Cely, please. I miss you, and I could really stand to have my best friend back.”

Don’t do it.

The warning of Russ’s voice chimes in my head, and I screw my eyes shut over the confusing noise.

“Please. I know you’re here.”

Another minute ticks by, while I silently battle the indecision going on inside me. I can’t get dragged into this place. If I do, I might never leave.

Lips flattened, she adjusts the strap of her bag. “I should’ve known you’d be selfish. Staying away all these years without a single word?” With a sneer, she shakes her head and twists back toward the door.

Don’t do it. God, don’t do it.

“Brie, wait.” The words spill out of my mouth before I have a chance to think, or stop them. Silently admitting my cowardice, I sit up from my hiding spot to find her staring up at me. “I wasn’t trying to run away. I wasn’t trying to stay away. From you.”

“I know.” The obvious tension in her shoulders eases with their slouching. “You look good. I meant to tell you that the other night.”

“Thanks. You look good, too. Marcelle, too.”

“Been hard livin’, I’m not gonna lie.”

“It’s been hard for me, too.”

A glance around the room, and she nods. “I see that. So, what took you so long to come back?”

The question isn’t an easy one to answer. It’s long and drawn-out and involves a man, who at one time, was a complete stranger to me. One she’ll never have the opportunity to meet because he’s dead. Abandoning my hiding spot, I descend the staircase, trying to imagine how to condense ten years of life into one brief summary. It all boils down to one thing that rings truest of all. “I was scared.”

“Of what? What was it that scared you away? I have to know.”

I plop down on one of the rickety old steps, which groans under my weight. “I don’t remember, exactly. There’s a whole section that’s just like this … blackness. It’s like a movie reel that’s been spliced in spots. I remember some things and can’t remember others.”

She slides onto the step just below mine, twisting to face me. “You remember Maw Maw, though. You have to. You remembered the gardenias.”

“Some things are clear.” The conversation is harder than I imagined, and I have to look away to keep from seeing that sliver of hope in her eyes fade. “Others, not so much. Brie, I don’t … remember all of what happened to her.” Just one horrific snapshot that I still can’t get out of my head.

“Nothing? A name, or a face, or something small?”

The question brings to mind the horned skull and those holes where terrifying black eyes peered out at me. “I remember a skull, but … it’s sketchy. Almost like a cartoon at this point, and I don’t know if it’s real, or something I made up. Remember those stories Maw Maw would tell us of TonTon?”

“Yeah.”

“I swore that’s who came after me. For stealing that candy. But I don’t remember anything about those people who broke into our house. I don’t remember what they did. There’s an emptiness that I’ve been trying to fill for the last nine years of my life.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs. “I wish I could remember for you.”

“Me, too.” Face downtrodden, she nods. “After the murder, I lost my voice again. Marcelle and I went to live with my Great-Aunt Clothilde. Sheriff asked me questions, but I never said a word about nothin’. Just didn’t trust him, for some reason. They asked about the girl they saw on camera, but nothing ever came of it.”

Nothing would come of it, because I wasn’t born in a hospital, like most babies, and I didn’t have a birth certificate. They couldn’t have identified me, if they’d tried. And it’s probably better they didn’t. Growing up with Russ was no picnic, but growing up in the foster system probably would’ve been a nightmare for me. Back in Marquette, Russ had one of his buddies design a fake certificate, just so I could go to school and lead a relatively normal life. Which was actually far from normal.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “For calling you selfish. God, that was probably the most idiotic thing I could’ve said.”

“No, you’re right. It was selfish to stay away.”