Second Nature (22 page)

The sexy cowardly lion

I pinned the last picture
to the wall, the corkboard of doom.

“That is some serious
shit, Lainey.” Ashton stood behind me, venturing down into my room now like we
were roomies.

“And still no answers.
Lucinda Wentworth is a possibility. Tom is clearly being framed, but why?”

“ I don't care. I’m just
glad he’s in jail while we figure that out.”

“I agree. It means you
can venture out of the attic. If Tom’s guilty, then you’re not.” I folded my
arms and stared at the massive amount of clues we’d found. “The letters that
have been sent to you, Vincent, Rachel, and my mom, all came from cities Tom
was visiting. He’s in on this, but I don't believe he would actually hurt any
of us. I don't know why. He’s such a jerkface, but he’s not a murderer, I don't
think.”

“You could always ask
him.”

I turned and looked at
Ashton. “You’re right. He’s still being held in New Canaan.”

Ashton gave me a look.
“So you and Jake, huh?”

I didn't know what he
meant but the subject change was unexpected. “Yeah.”

He bit his lip. “I’m
going to say something, and I want you to forget I ever said it. But I have to
or I won’t ever be free of it.”

My insides tightened.
“What?”

“I like you. I’ve always
liked you.” His eyes lowered. “I broke it off with Rachel in hopes that we
might—maybe?” He rolled his eyes and laughed at himself. “Yeah.” He shook
his head. “That's—”

“Stop.” My face was on
fire and my stomach hurt, but it was for the wrong reason. It felt wrong. The
feminist in me wanted to shout at him but the soft-spoken, kind person just
smiled. “I think sometimes we think something is going to be amazing when we’re
younger, and no matter what changes, we believe that thing is what we need. But
then we realize that the amazing is actually made up in our head, and we don't
know what we want.” I laughed nervously because it was coming out so wrong. “I
used to think that about you too—about us.” I shook my head at my own
ridiculousness and the desperate need for this to end. “But I like Jake. I like
him a lot. He’s a big meathead in a lot of ways and not super in touch with his
feelings. But I like him.”

He smiled through the
rejection. “I know. I’m glad you found someone who you feel that way about.”

I wanted to say so many
things,
most of them were mean and a little bitter. But I
didn't. I turned back to the corkboard and sighed. “You’re right about this
though. I’m going to see Tom.”

“I’ll come with you.”

I gave him a look. “You
will?”

“I need to tell the
police my side of the story.” He bit his lip. “I’m going to give them the
letter that I got that told me to leave town. I suggest you guys do the same.
The secrecy is what will get us in the end. It’s power.”

I nodded. “Okay. I’ll
tell Vincent and my mom to hand their letters in. And we have the stuff from
Rachel’s. We can hand that in too. We can say we were all so scared of the
threats on the cell phone, we didn't know what to do.”

“Let’s go then.” He gave
me a look. “And what I said before—”

“Can we not talk about it
again?” I pleaded.

“I just want to say, I’ll
be waiting in the wings, Lain. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thanks.” I wanted to
groan and grumble and spew venom at God for his terrible timing. But instead, I
gathered my phone and headed out of the room, with Ashton behind me.

My mom was waiting at the
bottom of the stairs, looking like she wanted to ask me something, but the
vision of the guy behind me stopped her. “Ashton?” Her eyes darted from him to
the second floor. “When did you get here? Honey, are you okay? The police are
looking for you.”

“Hello, Mrs. Allen. I got
here this morning.”

“I let him in,” Mazy
chirped as she strolled through, petting her cat and offering me a wink.

“Oh, darling. I’m so
pleased you’re all right. Does your mother know you’re okay?”

“Not yet. I was pretty
worried about Tom making it look like I had killed Rachel so I stayed away. I
came home because I saw his arrest on TV.”

She winced. “I am so
sorry, you poor thing. Are you going home now?”

“Police station.” I
looked back at him. “He’s going to give them his version of the night’s events,
from August.” I still didn't know the story.

“Do you want a ride?” She
looked like she might shout for Dan any second.

“No, that's all right,
Mom. I can drive him. We need to chat anyway.”

“All right. You know the
rules. Call when you get there and text every half hour or I send the marines.”
She nodded with a sigh.

“I know.” I finished
walking down the stairs and headed for my car, texting Lindsey about Ashton’s
plan.

He wants to be free to come back home and have his name
cleared.

Lindsey responded with a
sad face and a message that they would meet us.

Ashton climbed in the
passenger seat as I got into the driver’s. “Sounds good. I thought you were
going to ask your mom for her letter and pictures?”

“I can’t do it. I can’t
humiliate her further. I’ll see if I can steal them.” Before I started the car
I turned and gave him a look. “Tell me what you’re going to tell the police so
we know what we should say in case we are ever asked.”

He sighed and started the
story, “Rachel and I got into it. I’d been telling Jake I was going to break
things off with her. I thought she was screwing him or Vincent. I knew it was
someone.”

“The guy with the beard.”

“Who?”

“There was a hipster she
was dating on the side—Skip.”

“Part of her photography
club, no doubt.” He rolled his eyes and shuddered. “They took drugs and had sex
and did gross things. She and I had been fighting a lot about the club. She
wouldn't tell me who the people were in it with her. She wouldn't talk about
it. But I knew about the drugs and sex. She tried to get me to do it.” He
looked down. “I don't find choking girls appealing.
Apparently,
that made me boring to her.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “I’m sorry I
dated her for so long. Anyway, when I saw you girls that night at my place, I
was headed to the party early to break things off with Rach. I figured if she
had guests and a party going I could make a getaway. I would go down the shore
for a week or so, and she would be dating someone else by the time I got back.”

It was the most cowardly
thing I’d ever heard, except for me running away when the killer drugged Jake.
Maybe Ashton and I were made for each other. Or maybe it was just too many
cowards in one car. “When did you get the letters from the killer?”

“I only ever got the one.
It was the day before the party. It was on my bed. It demanded I leave town or
Sage was next. It was sitting on my bed with a picture of Rachel, photoshopped
so she looked dead. It was so well done that when I got it, I called her. She
answered and yelled at me for not giving her space like she’d asked. I knew it
was faked, but it said that if I didn't leave town the same thing was going to
happen to my sister.”

“So you broke up with
Rachel and left the party, intent on leaving town?”

“Yeah.
For
a couple of days.
I figured I’d go fishing.” He shivered. “My jeep was
trapped by other cars in the driveway. So I left on foot. I made it halfway to
Sierra’s and then I started to wonder if Rachel wasn't just trying to scare
me—just trying to be an asshole.”

“Right, that seems weird
that someone sends you a scary picture of Rachel and a threatening letter. You
don't have any enemies.”

“None. So yeah, I walked
back to Rachel’s, cutting through the woods from the road. Someone was carrying
Rachel into the
woods,
she was bleeding from her face.
I wouldn't have known it was her if not for the dress. The guy, a bearded guy
in a suit, laid her down and smashed a rock on her head. I didn't know who he
was, but I suspected he’d sent the letter. So I ran. I went to Sierra’s to find
her dad, but her mom was there with her uncle.” He looked down. “They were in
the hot tub.” He wrinkled his nose. “So I hid in the woods by the house and
waited for them to leave. I was going to borrow one of the cars. I didn't know
where to go or what to do. I thought about calling the cops but then the threat
on Sage stopped me. You girls drove up in Rachel’s car minutes later. You were
covered in blood and looking shocked. I knew something had happened and the
threat against my sister was real.”

“You knew we didn't kill
her.”

“Of course. I saw that
guy. I told Lindsey to bleach and clean everything and burn your clothes, and I
took Rachel’s car and drove it off the pier up the shore. I hitched a ride to
my dad’s old cabin, and I stayed there. I didn't know what to do. I burned the
photoshopped picture of Rachel and I laid low.”

“Did you see the news,
that Mr. Henning had died?”

“Yeah.
I
assumed whatever it was going on
,
it was serious
.
I phoned Tom’s PI, and he told me he was being paid to look for me. I wired him
a lump sum of money from an account I keep in the Caribbean and told him to
start watching you girls and to give Tom fake leads to find me. I said that he
was to watch you girls constantly.”

“The guy in the hoodie?”

He shrugged. “I don't know.
I just know that he was supposed to be watching you girls all the time. Keeping
you safe. I hoped the killer would come for me at the cabin, but the only
people who ever showed were you and Jake.”

“And the blonde you
kissed.”

He furrowed his brow. “What
blonde?”

“I saw you kiss a girl.
She brought you groceries in Milton.”

He shook his head. “I had
a delivery service meet me on the bridge once a week. I didn't have a blonde
bring me groceries. It was some old guy.”

“So you weren’t wearing a
dark-gray hoodie and kissing a blonde?”

“Might have been the PI.
He might have been following you, and she was getting food.”

I bit my lip and started
the car. “Weird.”

“What should I leave out
of the story?”

“Everything. Don't give
them the letter or tell them you saw us covered in blood. As far as you are
concerned, we never saw the body and neither did you. The fight was bad. You
stole her car and drove it off the pier to spite her. You went to your family
cabin to fish and chill and be alone, and when you went to town you saw the
news, naming you as a person of interest in the death of Rachel Swanson. You
panicked because you had driven her car off the pier. You knew everyone had
seen you fighting. You knew you had no alibi because you were alone all night.
So you stayed hidden until Tom was caught for doing this. You are innocent.”

“You think I should lie
about all of it?”

“Yeah. Your story sucks.
Why wouldn't you call the cops if you saw someone murdering Rachel? Why didn't
you fight for her and try to save her? How could you leave your sister behind
to suffer through all of that? The cops won’t understand that you thought the
killer was after you, and by leaving, you took the attention with you. They’ll
find holes in your story.”

“Good point.” He nodded.
“Let’s do this.”

“I’ll call Lindsey and
tell her to put Vincent’s letters and pictures back in hiding. We won’t need to
talk to the police.” I drove out of the driveway and noted the heavy level of
guilt I had sitting on my chest. I hated lying, and we’d done a serious amount.
We looked guilty. I just hoped we also looked scared as hell.
Because that was the truth.

The House of horrors

I walked along the beach,
listening to the waves and trying to understand any and all of the clues now taking
up an entire wall in my dressing room and closet. Vincent installed a lock like
the ones in his father’s office, to keep the wall safe. All our sins sat there,
waiting for someone to come and take them, maybe use them against us.

I wasn't entirely worried
about that. I agreed with being cautious but the killer, who was my main
concern, already had all of those clues. He had been dangling us like puppets
with them.

“The phones went off when
we got to the second floor of Sage’s house, alerting us that Jake was in the
attic. There’s just no way that was a coincidence. The killer was in the house
with us, setting an alarm to go off on those phones so the song would be played
simultaneously. The attic wasn't locked when we got there.” I looked at Lindsey
as she walked beside me. “He must have snuck back out of the attic as we were
in one of the bedrooms, and then left the house. Tom wasn't in Connecticut
then. They arrested him as he got off the plane from Colorado the next day. The
police are saying he planted the iPhones with the alarms before he left on his
trip, and Jake doesn't remember anything to counter that. It was random luck we
were there at the same time they went off.”

“He knew you would go
there then? He knew we would ping Rachel’s phone at that moment to find it at
Sage’s, and then go there as the alarms were starting to go off? Is Tom
psychic?”

“Or is the killer
watching us far more closely than we are thinking.”

“I think he’s one of us.”
Lindsey looked as though she was swallowing a lump in her throat. “What other
explanation is there?”

“Rita might have alerted
him. We never actually saw her message a friend for the location on the phone,
and I was with her when she got the phone call from her friend who had pinged
the phone for her. Maybe she’s in on it.”

Lindsey rolled her eyes.
“You are still hating on her.”

“No, I swear. I’m not.
I’ll actually be disappointed if that's the case. I’m starting to really like
her. And I think she’s right that she and Ash would make a good couple. She has
all the things he liked about Rachel, and I don't think she has any of the
things he didn't. When we talked about Rachel and the choking she looked
disgusted and sort of scared, same face I made when I found out.”

“I think she’s nice. I
didn't at first. But now I see that her hating my snooping is because her
family doesn't have the money they play at. Her dad lost almost everything with
his insider trading shit. They’re broke. She is ashamed or protecting her
parents. Either way, I get it.”

“I knew it!” I kicked a
small rock. “No staff. Who has no staff?”

“Right. I don't know what
her mom’s doing, but she’s been going back to Manhattan a lot. I suspect
something is up with her, but it probably doesn't have anything to do with our
shit. It’s something else. Whatever it is, Rita’s dad is looking really tired
lately.”

“Sorry to change the
subject, but I forgot to ask you”—I walked to a log and sat
down—“what happened in New York with Shuster Helmut? We got so caught up
in everything.”

“He denied knowing
anything about the second dress. Said the dress had to have been copied, and he
wanted to sue Rachel until I explained she had in fact been found dead, the
very night his dress was first worn. Of course like a true diva, he was
outraged. Sierra even threatened to ruin him, said she would get all our
mothers to smear his name if he didn't tell us the truth. And still he knew
nothing about the second dress. He was genuinely pissed and hurt to think that
we would want to ruin him. I really think he’s been played as much as we have.”

I scowled. “So Rachel or
someone else had the dress copied? That's pretty crazy. I can’t imagine Rachel
sewing, but I also can’t imagine her taking pictures in front of wood piles, so
there’s that.”

“Yup.” She nodded. “New
York was a dead end.” She smiled wide. “But he did live in the Village.”

“Of course he did.” I
stared out at the choppy sea, noting the cold in the air. “We’re only a couple
of minutes from Andrew’s. Want to pop in and say hi? I’ve been meaning to check
in on him.”

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning
to as well.” We got up again and started walking. “His mom’s back from Silver
Hills. After the whole Jake thing, she came home to make sure he’s okay.”

“Well, we aren’t exactly
safe in our own homes, are we?” I glanced behind me at the two men in suits
following us.

“Is Ashton home now?”

I shook my head and
grimaced. “Mrs. Miller won’t stay at the house. Obviously. So she and Emily are
staying with Rachel’s parents. Ashton is staying at Jake’s and Sage is staying
at Rita’s.”

She cringed. “Awkward for
you that Ash is at Jake’s.”

“Yup.” I turned and
walked up the beach toward the boardwalk. “Needless to say, I haven’t been
going there much. Jake’s sleeping a lot and Ash is playing WoW all the time. We
game together all the time. So naturally I’ve officially been blamed for
ruining the star quarterback.”

“They’ve sort of missed
the season now. The quarterback hasn't been to a practice in two months. The
running back has been skipping more than he should be so he can stalk my every
move. The wide
receiver’s
fairly sick still and
recovering from being held hostage and tortured. They must be pulling the
second line—or whatever they call that—up.” Lindsey laughed and
followed me along the walkway leading to Andrew’s yard.

“I don't know.”

We both stopped on the
high point of the boardwalk, noting the fresh paint. “Guess we’re walking up
through the tall grass.” She pulled me back. We crunched our way up the long
sea grass bank to his house, both pausing and staring at the paint spilled down
the sides onto the grass and sand.

“That’s weird. Whoever
started painting it began in the middle and never finished.
”
Lindsey pointed. “And they spilled paint all over the sand and grass.” She
pointed at the gray paint everywhere.

“Yikes.” The paint was dry
and unfinished. “My mom would have an aneurysm if one of our household staff
left it that way.”

“My dad would kill
someone.”

As we crunched along I
nudged her. “So the message about hanging with us real son, I think that was to
warn us.
Like a code.
Jake nearly hanged and Vince
isn’t his dad’s real son.”

Lindsey gave me a
disgusted look. “He tried to warn us before he attacked?”

“I-I
don't
know. I don't see how it adds up, just that I think it’s weird we discovered
Vincent isn’t his dad’s real son, and Jake was nearly hanged while dangling
from a wall after receiving that message from the killer. Either it’s a
coincidence or a very cryptic message.”

“I told you there are no
coincidences with this.”

“Which means that the
killer is watching us and knows all of our next moves. Predicting what we will
do before we even think about doing it. Who could possibly know all of us that
well?”

“Besides you and me? I
don't know.” She shook her head as we rounded the corner of the large
guesthouse and massive pool, both stopping dead in our tracks. I tried to back
up and pull us to a safe viewing place behind the guesthouse, but Lindsey was
stuck, holding me in place, with her mouth open as a scream tore from her lips.

Someone was floating in
the cool blue water, facedown with a cloud of red all around them, changing the
color of the pool to crimson in that spot.

The two security guards
ran for us, shielding us as they called it in.

I didn't turn away, not
the way I wanted to. I stared at it, trying to see the connection or the clues.
I would need them later when I calmed down. I would need to be able to draw it
and describe it.

Lindsey collapsed,
gripping the security guard as he held us both. The other guard jumped into the
water and turned the body over, dragging her to the edge.

“Mrs. Henning,” I
whispered.

The words made Lindsey
scream louder.

I broke from the man
holding me, running for the house. “ANDREW!” Something had happened to me in
the last few weeks. I no longer ran from the things I was afraid of. I ran into
the house, screaming at the top of my lungs, “ANDREW!”

A smell cut me short.

It hit heavy and hard.

I retched as it crawled
into my mouth and down my throat. I gagged and heaved, backing up as the rot of
a pile of bodies hit me like a bat in the face.

Stumbling back onto the
deck, I started throwing up everywhere.

The guard grabbed
me, dragging me, puking and all, away from the house
. He ran
inside, screaming into the phone about the heap of death on the rec room floor.

“What is it?” Lindsey
shuddered, clinching her arms around herself in the corner.

“Don't look!” I shook my
head, staggering to her and wiping my mouth. I didn't cry. She did but I
couldn't. I wasn't sad. I couldn't be sad. I was so disgusted and confused that
sad was an impossibility. “Don't look!”

She covered her eyes and
wailed,
making so much noise it actually scared me. It
became like white noise, constant and fuzzy.

The sirens and the
screaming of the voices didn't drown out the sounds coming from her.

It seemed like no time
had passed before Vincent was there. It was sudden and frightening. He lifted
her into his arms and ran. I didn't even see where they went. He just grabbed
her and took her away, beckoning for me to come too.

But the sick and twisted
curiosity that had claimed my sanity some time ago, took over. I turned back to
the house, ignoring the paramedics on the deck who were declaring Andrew’s
mother dead, ignoring the guards shaking their heads while speaking to the
police, and ignoring the man telling me to stay outside.

No, I walked right back
into the house, plugging my nose and looking at it all.

Jake’s household staff
was mixed with Andrew’s on the floor. I winced when I saw his butler, a man I
knew Jake adored.

The heap of them, all
entangled and atop one another looked like the bottom of the Barbie bag at
Rachel’s. It was where the broken and mangled Barbie’s sat. The ones who Rachel
had decided to cut the hair off of, the ones who had lost an arm, or even the
ones whose makeup had started to peel off from overuse.

I walked past it, hugging
the edge of the room, entering the hallway. I recoiled in horror when I got to
the kitchen and saw the crusty dark bloodstains on the cupboards and floors.
The marble was smeared, not wiped down.

It was a house of
horrors.

I walked to the front
door, needing to leave but not wishing to go back to the rec room.

My eyes darted to the
stairs where Andrew was being led down to the front door. His hands were in
cuffs and his eyes were dead, like fish eyes.

They darted to me,
flickering on me for a moment, but they didn't liven. Not even when his lips
turned up into a creepy smile.

He wore the trademark
dark-gray hoodie.

It made sense.

Somewhere in my frozen
mind, it made sense.