Wicked Charm(40)

"It was you in the forest that night, then!" I say. "You dropped the earring."

Jorie grips the knife firmly as I look around for anything I can use to protect myself.

"I meant to get rid of it. I'd slid it into my pocket and forgot it was  there. I was too busy trying to get close to you. Staying the night at  your house let me see when Beau would be home, the right hours to kill  so that it looked as though he had done it. Too bad I hadn't anticipated  the group of people he had over from the pool staying as late as they  did that night, otherwise that murder would have been all the more  convincing, all the blame would have been on Beau. Framing someone is a  tricky thing."         

     



 

Tree bark bites into my arms, and I can't help but wonder aloud, "Why?"

"If you'd paid better attention, you'd know exactly why."

But I don't. For all the effort I put into thinking about why Jorie would do such a thing, I still don't understand.

"Do you love him? Is that it?"

She laughs. "Don't be stupid. Of course I don't."

"Then why? What could you possibly get by framing Beau for the murders of innocent girls?"

"Do you remember asking me about the girl who disappeared?"

"Ericka?"

There's a flash of pain in Jorie's eyes. "Yes, Ericka. My best friend."

Understanding dawns and churns my stomach with fear.

Jorie has a vendetta.

"We did everything together outside of school. She left because of him."

At this, Jorie's voice drops dangerously low.

"He broke her heart, her spirit, her life. She left town, and then she  left this world. Swallowed enough pills to go to sleep and never wake  up. The pain he caused her eclipsed all the years and memories we made  together. She used to have fun, laugh at life, spin circles in the rain.  She almost always wore a smile until Beau. He broke her spirit. Do you  know what it's like to lose your best friend?"

"I have an idea," I bite out.

"No, you don't. I told you the things you wanted to hear, and you played  right into my hand. What I had with Ericka was something different. I  couldn't stand the thought of her leaving town. Then the call came that  she had died. I thought about killing Beau myself, a swift and sweet  revenge. But then he'd just get off easy. I couldn't let that happen. He  needed to suffer."

"So you tried to frame him," I say. "Well, you did a lousy job."

She reaches out whiplike and hits me in the face.

I wince but hold her stare.

"You're a coward, that's what you are. You're deranged. You didn't have to hurt those girls. They never did anything to you!"

"I cannot let Ericka's death be in vain."

"You could have honored her death. You could have kept her memory alive in a positive light. Why kill innocent girls?"

"Why not? Why should they be allowed to live when Ericka died? Why should you?"

Her eyes are wide to the point of exaggeration, and an off-kilter gleam shines through them.

"You know, Willow, I think for once in his life, Beau might actually  care about someone. Now, he'll have to swallow the understanding of what  his world will be without you. He'll have to lose what he loves best.  Maybe that is the ultimate revenge."

She smiles wickedly and takes two steps forward, dead leaves crunching. She drops the knife just out of reach.

"Better make this look just like the others," she says. "This time Beau will take the blame. I'll make sure of it."

She laughs darkly. I try hard to ignore the stab of hurt in my chest  from Jorie's betrayal. I search for any glimpse of the girl I called my  friend.

But she's gone. Replaced by a killer.

I breathe as deeply as I can and scream, and scream, and scream, hoping  anyone remotely close can hear me. A boater, a fisherman, someone to  help.

Icy terror floods my veins as Jorie's cold hands close around my throat,  cutting short my cry for help. I try to breathe, try to fight.

"Goodbye, Willow," she whispers.





40


Beau

"Willow!"

I find her laid out on the swampy soil. Body fixed to the earth. Jorie crouched above her, hands around her throat.

"Don't come any closer," Jorie warns.

She lets go of Willow and grabs a knife from the ground. There's  something decidedly ominous about her tone. A wind whips around us.

I ignore Jorie's warning and move toward them.

"Don't!" she yells.

My eyes dart to Willow, willing her to stand. I don't know if she's conscious or if she's even breathing at all.

"Let her go," I say.

"I can't do that."

I eye the knife in Jorie's hand. I didn't bring a weapon. There was no  time. A decision I now regret, considering that the station and its  officers are a half hour out. Willow needs help now.

"Why?" I ask.

I don't actually care why she did it. What I need is for her to keep  talking. What I need is for her to be distracted. I hope she can't see  the way I shake with nerves. If only I could touch Willow, feel the  warmth of her skin and her soft breaths, to know if she's okay.

A pinecone hits the side of a tree to Jorie's left with a thwack.

She turns, and I waste no time. I run at her head-on. But she's quick,  slashing out at my stomach. I crumple to the ground, nearly retching  from the pain. I don't have time to look at the wound. I need only to  get back up.         

     



 

"Don't fight me, Beau," she says. "Don't make me kill you, too."

A bitter laugh escapes me. It's too late for that. She'll kill me anyway  now that I know too much. I stand, clutching my middle, feeling warm,  wet blood on my skin.

There's movement behind Jorie, and I try not to alert her. Blending into  the tree beside Willow is Charlotte. She grabs Willow's hands and  pulls, but the binding doesn't budge. Willow's eyes are closed, and I  fear she's unconscious. Or worse. Charlotte searches the ground, finds a  rock, and begins sawing at the ties.

Jorie spins around. It's too late for Charlotte to hide.

Jorie cackles. "Did you honestly think you could bring your sister and hope for an ambush?"

I try again to get to Willow, but Jorie rises on the balls of her feet,  her movements swift and calculated, swiping the knife at me once more,  sending me sprawling backward. This time, she just barely misses.

"Quit fighting me, Beau." A simple command, full of menace.

"The police are on their way," I say. "They know you killed the girls. I  told them so when the pieces clicked. You made a mistake, Jorie. There  was a wad of gum left at the last murder scene and analysis came back  that the saliva belonged to a female."

"You're lying," she says, but I see the fear in her eyes.

"I'm not. How else do you think we figured it out?"

For all the times I've lied, I'm actually telling the truth.

"Is Willow alive?" I call to Charlotte.

I can't tell from where I'm standing, and not knowing is slowly killing me.

Charlotte nods once, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I inhale another  shaky breath and contemplate my next move. Jorie is alone. Willow is  unconscious. It's two against one, but I'm injured. I won't be as fast  or calculating.

With each drop of blood that leaves my body, I feel more of my strength  escape. I shudder and struggle to hold myself upright. The pain to my  stomach is quick, sharp, and unrelenting, but I attempt to block it out.  I have to get to Willow. The thought of losing her is more agonizing  than any wound. I don't want my arms to be empty of her. I don't want to  never feel her warmth.

I focus on Charlotte's assurance. Willow is alive. We still have a chance. I will never let Jorie win.

"You're done. Give it up."

"No." She sneers. "If you're telling the truth and the cops are coming,  then I'm going to make damn sure you suffer the way I have." For the  very briefest second, her lip wobbles, and I swear I see a flash of hurt  dart across her features. "The way Ericka did."

Finally, I understand. Ericka, the girl who disappeared. Jorie must have known her. Cared for her.

"So you've come to return the favor?" I say as Charlotte creeps steadily  closer to Jorie's back. "You want to break my heart the way I broke  hers, is that it?"

It hurts to admit some of the blame.

"I want you to know the pain of losing the person you care about most in  this world! It's time to kill Willow the way you killed my best  friend!"

"I didn't kill her. She left."

"Right, but after she left, she killed herself, so you might as well  have forced the pills down her throat. You are the reason she's dead.  You, Beau! And you'll be the reason Willow dies, too."

She's crazy, but she's right. I am partially to blame. My actions led  Ericka to feel desperate. Maybe if I had been kinder or cared more about  how much the breakup affected her, she could have felt differently.  I'll never know now, and the guilt of that weighs heavily.

Charlotte moves from behind a tree. I focus on Jorie and not on my sister.

Just another second …

Charlotte tackles Jorie from behind, a tangle of limbs. I try to run to  them, but black eats away at my vision, darkness swallowing the trees. I  glance down to find the front of my clothes coated in blood.