With Gran's loud downstairs television and her hurling warnings at me upstairs, it's hard to notice much else, but I pick up on it.
"There," I say. "I think someone's at the door."
"Have mercy on his soul if it's the boy next door." Gran turns and walks down the hall.
Bang. Bang. Bang. The sound is louder as we descend the steps. There's definitely someone at the door. I only hope for Beau's sake that it isn't him. He's got to be smarter than that.
Gran opens the screen. "What in the hell's so important that you need to break down my door?" she says over the television volume.
A police officer stands there, hand on his gun, looking us over. He's quiet for a heartbeat, long enough for my thoughts to run wild.
I immediately think of nothing good. Fear freezes my feet to the ground. I can't move. I can't breathe.
"What happened?" I ask. "Where are Mom and Dad? Are they okay?"
"Couldn't tell you," the officer replies. "I'm not here about your parents. But if you'd turn down the volume, I'd like to ask you a few questions."
Relief courses through me. There is no bad news to deliver. I calm my racing heart.
Gran hobbles to the television and shuts it off. It's an old thing, the type with a turn dial and an antenna V-ing at the top. We wanted to buy her a new one, but Gran insists hers works just fine if you can see past the static. My room, thankfully, has a new flat screen.
We all take a seat at the kitchen table where Gran offers him every meal under the sun. Eggs and bacon? She can whip it up quickly. Lemon chicken and green beans? It should be done in twenty minutes. Why she expects him to stay that long, I don't know. Maybe leftover lasagna? Would take just a moment to heat. On and on. Each time, the officer declines.
I look at his badge. Deputy Clarke. I can't help but wonder why he would venture into the swamp.
Deputy Clarke flips a page in his notebook and pulls out a pen. "Have you noticed anything strange around the swamp lately?"
Strange things happen all the time. For instance, just the other day, I saw a gator trying to eat a bobcat. They'll go after just about anything. Nearly got its eyes clawed out for such an attempt. The officer will have to narrow it down if he means for us to know what he's talking about.
"Sure have." Gran goes to the fridge. "Good-for-nothin' neighbors next door. That's what's strange here."
The officer nods. "Why do you say that?"
"Do you know he thinks he has the right to tell me whether or not I can feed the gators?"
"Um," the officer says, taken aback. "You're not actually supposed to feed the gators, ma'am."
"Lord have mercy," Gran says. "Not you, too."
The officer turns to us. "Do you girls live here?"
"I do," I reply. "With my parents and my gran. This is my friend Jorie."
"I see," the officer says. "Have you two noticed anything off?"
"Not really," I answer.
Maybe Beau is a little off. Maybe I am, too.
"Do you know someone named Nicole Star?"
"No," Jorie and I say in unison.
"What school do you go to?"
We answer each of his questions. Name. Birthdate. Parents' names. He pauses and looks up at us.
"You sure you don't know her? You attend the same school. Maybe I could show you a picture?"
"Sure," I say.
His hand emerges from his pocket with a crinkle of paper. He slides a photo across the table to Jorie and me. We both gasp. I would know her face anywhere.
"Samantha," I whisper.
"Samantha?" the officer repeats. "Her name is-" He pauses. "Wait. Let me double-check her middle name."
He shuffles through his notebook.
"Right. Okay." He looks up. "I suppose you're correct. Her name is Nicole Samantha Star. Did she go by Samantha? Were you friends?"
"Were?" I say at the same time that Jorie says, "No."
"Do you know anything about her being in the swamp last night?" he asks.
"No," we say in unison.
"But she used to go out with the boy next door," I offer.
"I already questioned him on that." The officer picks the photo back up off the table and returns it to his pocket. "He didn't see her last night. Any chance you did?"
"No," I reply. "Why?"
"Because," the officer says, "the swamp was the last place she was known to be heading before-"
He leaves his sentence half hanging like a broken shutter.
"Before what?" I ask, curious.
What does he want with the ex-girlfriend of the boy next door, and what does that have to do with us?
"You and the Cadwell family are the only people out this deep in the swamp proper," the officer says. "These are the farthest waters before there's no more houses. I thought maybe you might have seen her? Known if she was with anyone? Talked to her at all? Her parents say she never ventures to the swamp."
I can think of one reason she'd want to come to the swamp. My gut-deep reaction tells me she meant to be here, and that she meant for Beau to know about her visit. Does it have something to do with their breakup? Or maybe they got back together? What I can't understand is what the officer has to do with anything.
"Why don't you ask Samantha these things?" Gran says, shuffling around the kitchen, squirting juices on the chicken she's preparing so it doesn't dry out. I hope she doesn't mean for the officer to stay awhile. She sets a plate of cookies and a pitcher of milk on the table with three glasses.
"I can't ask her," he says.
"Why not?"
"Because," the officer says, "that's what I'm trying to investigate."
"Her disappearance?" Gran asks, eyeing Mr. Cadwell's house.
"Not her disappearance."
Gran stops shuffling.
My eyes snap to his.
"What I'm investigating is her death."
10
Beau
Come Monday morning, the entire school is abuzz with the news of one of their own. Slain, the officers are saying. The words "killed," "murdered," "dead" don't belong in our school.
I can't help but notice how girls won't hold my stare, how people shrink away from me. The hall parts swiftly and drastically, making me tense. They suspect me. They must if they fear my very presence. I catch a whisper here, another there.
He dated her.
Do you think he hurt her?
He probably wanted her out of the way so he could go after the new girl.
Do they honestly believe I'd kill a girl?
I zone in on Willow, dark-as-sin hair plummeting down her back. I want to go to her. I want to know why she won't talk to me ever since I called things off with Samantha.
The school's eyes are on me, following my every move. I had a feeling this might happen. Samantha was linked to me before she died, after all.
"Willow's not looking your way," Pax says with a small grin. "Must be driving you crazy."
It is, if I'm being honest. But I'm not honest often, so I keep my response to myself.
"When was the last time a girl didn't say yes to you right away?" Grant holds back a laugh.
They're having fun messing with me. For all the times I've joked with them, I deserve it.
"I didn't technically ask her anything, so she can't actually say yes."
I try to dig myself out of the hole, but it's no use.
"Have you taken her out yet?"
"You already know the answer," I reply.
Pax actually laughs out loud, turning heads.
"You guys are assholes," I mutter, but I'm grinning, too.
I grab books from my locker and take off toward Willow. Pax and Grant follow.
She spots me, but the flood of students delays my approach. I push through, thanks mostly to Pax's size muscling a path. When I get near, I see a guy has stopped to talk to her. She smiles at something he says. He extends a cup to her, and I notice the logo of the local tea company.
"He brought her tea?" Grant asks.
I wait for her reaction. She takes it like he's handing her gold and drinks immediately. So she likes tea. I'll keep that in mind. I wonder what else she likes besides boat rides in the mire, cursing, and tea from strangers.
"Want to go out sometime?" I catch the guy saying.
"Sure," Willow replies.
A bell rings, warning that we have a minute to get to class.
"Ouch." Pax watches the exchange, offering me a look that says he's sorry I have to see it.
"Man, I can't look anymore. It's too painful," Grant jokes as he slaps me on the back.
"I can't be late again." Pax eyes the other end of the building where he and Grant have class.
I couldn't care less about being late.
"Don't worry about it, man. It's just one date. Doesn't mean anything," Pax says. "See you at lunch."
He heads off with Grant.
Willow pulls a cell phone from her pocket to quickly program his number. It lights up with a text. Around us, students hurry to class, me standing snap-still like a pillar in the middle of the crowd, watching Willow.