Dead Girls Don't Lie Read online

  My breath caught. He’d never sign it, now.

  Mr. Somerfield’s name jumped out at me. If I read this correctly, Dad had been planning to dissolve their business partnership, which was odd, because we’d gone boating to celebrate the upcoming release of an app Dad had designed for the company. But they had argued a lot.

  Had Mr. Somerfield known about this?

  Stuffed in the back of the drawer, I found a yellow envelope with Davis Accident Report scrolled across the front.

  Ah. This was what my aunt was talking about.

  I stared down at it for a long time. Did I dare look? Going through the details would make my grief fresh all over again, but looking might also drag my memories closer to the surface. I wanted to remember what happened that night, didn’t I?

  Raking my teeth across my lower lip, I separated the top of the envelope and reeled back when I found pictures.

  They’re not people you love.

  The whimpering part of me insisted they were nothing different than photos I’d see on TV, but I couldn’t stop the tears from filling my eyes.

  When I upended the envelope, the images slid out onto the desk. Black and white and with the bodies carefully posed, the photos looked like graphic art. A gruesome nightmare played out before my eyes because they were the people I loved. No use pretending otherwise.

  I traced my fingertip along the burned arm of the person in one photo. Long limbs. Gutted belly. Face a blackened skeleton. Horror rushed through me, making me weak.

  Leaning closer, I squinted at the writing along the bottom. Male, approximate age early-twenties. Burned beyond recognition. One of the crewmen of the rented yacht?

  Another photo: Male, approximate age mid-forties. Burned beyond recognition.

  Dad.

  My keen echoed in the room. This charred carcass with bits of flesh clinging to its bones wasn’t my dad. This…this thing wasn’t the man who’d rocked me to sleep when I was little and read me stories when I was sick.

  If I was wise, I’d go upstairs, take a sleeping pill, and sink into a medication-induced coma. In the morning, I’d convince myself this had all been a dream.

  Next picture. Female, approximate age forty. Burned.

  Mom.

  A whiff of Chanel No 5 drifted through the room. If I closed my eyes, could I pretend she was still with me or would I see flames?

  Clumping the pictures together, I shoved them back into the folder then pulled out and skimmed through the accident report.

  Approximate time of death of the passengers: 23:00. Four hours after we left Finley Cove, where Dad had rented the boat.

  If only I hadn’t talked my best friend, Brianna, into coming with us. But it had been her birthday. I’d wanted to celebrate it someplace special. I couldn’t have known she’d die.

  Cupping my face, I peeked through my fingers at the report.

  Location of the wreck: ten miles offshore, due east of Big Berry Island. They’d found me wandering the beach after I escaped the boat and swam to shore.

  A witness, Andrew Smythe, reported seeing a bright light at sea he dismissed as boaters setting off fireworks. He eventually became concerned about ongoing flashes and called 9-1-1.

  The Coast Guard rushed to the scene but found nothing. It took divers and a thorough search to drag up the final evidence.

  Highly combustible fuel source suspected. The heat of the flames killed the victims almost immediately. And, the yacht burned through to the outer hull before sinking underwater, taking everyone down with it.

  I wiped my eyes, but they kept tearing. Bringing my phone closer, I stared at the last bit of information in the file.

  My harsh cry rose from deep in my belly and burst into the room.

  Possible homicide. Investigation is ongoing.

  No, no. This couldn’t be true.

  Homicide?

  Mom, Dad, and Brianna had been murdered.

  2

  “No,” I hissed.

  I stood so fast the world spun. My limp fingers dropped the report, and it smacked on the desk. I gulped, and my wet gasps rang out in the room. Backing up, my legs hit the chair, sending it flying into the windowsill, creating a loud bang.

  I stared at the report with blurry eyes, unable to comprehend what I’d just read.

  Murdered? How was that possible? The fire was started by cooking oil. No, it was caused by fireworks.

  Someone had not killed them.

  It was an accident!

  I stumbled around Dad’s desk and fled toward the hall. Coming to a shuddering halt in the doorway, I turned. Rage fueled my strides, driving me back across the room. I stuffed the report back into the envelope along with the photos and sealed it up. The drawer clunked when I yanked it open. I shoved the envelope back where I’d found it. There was nothing I could do about the lock, but I didn’t care.

  My aunt had seen this, and she hadn’t told me.

  I wanted to storm up the stairs and confront her about what I’d discovered. Even more, I wanted to jump into my car and rush to the police station and make them they tell me what they were doing about this crime.

  No, I wanted to start investigating myself. Letting this go would never be an option.

  I raced back up to my room, where I slammed my door for good measure and dropped onto my bed.

  What was I going to do?

  How did anyone ride in a car with someone who thought it was okay to hide murder?

  At least fifteen times as my aunt’s SUV sped through town to school the next morning, I opened my mouth to demand she tell me why she wanted to keep the accident report from me. But each time, something stilled my tongue.

  Did she think I wouldn’t find out? If the police thought it was a homicide, it would be online. In the local paper. Why leave me to find out like that?

  “You’re quiet,” she said as she turned into the school’s entrance. “Feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine. I don’t have much to say.” Except, why are you lying? And how was I going to make sure the murderer paid?

  “Teenagers,” she whispered.

  My ears had not been burned, only my arms.

  She parked and shut off the engine. Her fingers beat a furious rhythm on the wheel. “You left school early yesterday but didn’t tell me.”

  I stared through the windshield, pretending to be fascinated by people striding up the walkway toward the main entrance. “I walked home.”

  “Janine.” Her sharp exhale filled the small space. “I can’t—”

  Her harping me on what happened yesterday—when my only concerns had been catching up at school and dealing with the emotional impact of the deaths of my family and Brianna—seemed frivolous. “I’m okay, all right?” The words charged from me.

  She flinched. “Sure, honey.” From her tightening lips, it was clear she didn’t believe me but had decided to let it go. “Next time, tell me and I’ll give you a ride home.” Reaching out, she slid my hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear like a parent would do with a toddler.

  “I will.” Wrenching away from her, I fumbled with the latch then shoved the door open.

  It was past time I started driving Dad’s car to school.

  I left her and rushed up the walkway. I ran into Sean in the lobby.

  The need to tell him what I’d discovered rose up inside me, a beast gnashing its teeth, but I pinned my lips together. This was not the place. I couldn’t tell him by text message, either. That would be worse than how I’d learned the information.

  “I’m off to AP seminar,” he said, nudging his head toward the south hall. “See ya at lunch?”

  “Sure.” I headed toward my locker.

  Lunch felt like light years away when I had three classes to get through first.

  But the tension eased from my spine. Sean and I could meet up at our usual table with Brianna and…My footsteps slowed. An ache I couldn’t control filled me. While I stood stunned all over again by what had been stolen from me, kids grum
bled and rushed around the pillar I’d turned into. Someone knocked into me, and my bag fell on the floor. Papers dumped out.

  “Watch out.” I grimaced at the person who continued down the hall. Wiping my eyes, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut, because I’d recognize those broad shoulders and thick, wavy blond hair anywhere.

  Brandon Somerfield. The boy I’d dated for two years. The only guy I’d slept with. The jerk who’d said things had changed between us within days of the accident while he stood beside my hospital bed staring down at my bandages.

  “Hey, sorry.” His eyes grew big. “Uh…Janie. I heard you were back. Didn’t see you around yesterday, though.”

  I refused to believe I heard hints of vulnerability in his voice. Stooping down, I started picking up my things. He knelt with me, but I snatched up the last sheet of paper before he could grab it.

  “How you been?” His gaze drifted from my face to my neck and then to my chest—a move that used to make my knees turn to jelly. Now, they were made of lead.

  I forced myself to stand. “I’m fine. But you’d know that if you’d stayed around long enough to see for yourself.”

  He stared up at me, blinking his killer lashes. They went with his killer everything else.

  My skin prickled. Why was he still kneeling? This wasn’t a promposal.

  “I wanted to come by and see you.”

  “You knew where to find me.” He’d been over to my house enough times Mom kept his favorite cookies in the jar.

  “Dad said I had to help out in the office. His secretary quit after…”

  After my father, his business partner, was murdered. Anger slammed through me all over again.

  Rising, Brandon lifted a hand toward me, but I backed away until I hit the wall. “So, did you work a thousand hours a week?”

  “Just fifteen.” He scratched his neck, and that pleading tone I used to love slid into his voice. “I thought about sending you flowers. Maybe seeing if you wanted to go for a walk, but those things felt lame after what happened. And I was scared.”

  “Of what?” My shoulders sagged. This run-in with my ex wasn’t making my morning any better. Why couldn’t he ignore me like I’d planned to do with him?

  His gaze darted to my arms, and he stepped forward and lifted my hand. He stroked my palm as if the scars no longer mattered, but the twitch of his lips said they did. Flipping my hand over, he studied it. “They don’t look that bad.” His hazel eyes softened to mossy green, the color they used to take on when he wanted to kiss me.

  Hell, no.

  I snatched my hand away from his. It was too late to discover if there was anything left between us. That ship had sailed two months ago. No, it had sunk after someone sabotaged my parents’ boat in the Atlantic.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m having a party next Saturday. I’d love it if you came.”

  “Why?”

  “To, uh, hang out together? Sean said he might go.”

  Hard to believe Sean was up for a party. “I don’t think so.” The last thing I wanted to do was spend more time with Brandon. “Look, I can’t be late for class.”

  “Walk you there?” Memories of him escorting me down the hall with his arm curling around the back of my waist, followed by a kiss outside the classroom, made my limbs shake.

  A wreck after he ditched me, I refused to melt for him all over again. “No, thanks.”

  The flash of rage on his face made my muscles tense as if I needed to flee, but he had no reason to be pissed off. He was the one who’d ruined things between us.

  I brushed past him and walked to my locker. When I reached inside to retrieve my textbook, something lying on the top shelf caught my eye. A sheet of lined paper had been wrapped around a solid object and dark, sooty flecks drifted onto my skirt as I unwrapped the charred…thing.

  A tiny doll nearly devoured by fire.

  Releasing a shudder, I tossed it into a trash can and feverishly brushed off my hands and skirt.

  I’d started to crumple the paper, intending to throw it away as well, when I paused. My belly coiled tight, and I gaped down at the blocky letters written in black ink on the paper.

  WATCH OUT OR YOU’LL GET BURNED

  AGAIN

  My teeth gritting together, I stuffed the note it into the trash can.

  Who would do something like this to me?

  Staring forward at nothing, I counted to ten. Make that twenty. Because I wanted to shriek and that never went over well with school administration. Sure, the counselor would pat my shoulder and tell me everything was going to be okay. But then she’d hustle to her office and call my aunt in for a little chat, which would result in an increase in my counseling sessions right after I’d switched from three times a week to one.

  Bet this note was from Marley. Damn mean girl. Couldn’t she just leave me alone?

  I slammed my locker door closed with a bang.

  My first class was torture. Whispers abounded. Eyes watched me. Judged me? I wanted to shout that I didn’t do it.

  But someone else had.

  By the end of English Lit, I needed to escape but didn’t dare draw my aunt’s attention again by leaving school. Skipping my next class, I slunk past the main office window, making sure the secretary didn’t see me. Outside, I jogged around the side of the building where I settled in the grass beneath a maple tree. At this point, I didn’t care if the principal yelled at me to come back inside, if they ripped into me for violating the dress code a second day in a row, or even if I wound up in detention.

  Pulling out my phone, I Googled my parents and murder but found nothing.

  Then I flipped through social media. Something I’d done too often over the past few months, first in the hospital and then in my bedroom at home. Peering into everyone’s lives from afar while trying to forget my own.

  I jumped when Sean dropped down onto the grass beside me.

  As I sniffed and mopped my eyes, he stretched out his legs and leaned back on his hands. After I’d finished pretending I needed an inordinate amount of time to return my phone to my pocket, I realized he’d been squinting at the branches above us, not watching me, as I’d feared.

  “Free period?” I asked.

  “Sorta.” He’d escaped like me, then. “I saw you sitting out here through the window.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Sometimes, I just need to get away, too.” Sitting up, his hands streaked down his face, making it even redder than it already was. When he looked at me, the stark look in his eyes made my chest ache.

  I had to tell him. “Last—”

  “Did you know I’d been planning one of those big fancy invites to the Fall Fling for Brianna?”

  Sean and Brianna had been together since junior high, and Brianna told me a billion times how much she adored him. Talked about someday marrying him. If she’d lived…That throbbing feeling swept through me again. If she’d lived, I knew they would’ve been together forever.

  My soft smile resulted in one from him, but it was just pretend.

  I wanted to tell him what I’d found in the accident report but how could I ask him to share this burden?

  “What did you plan?” I eventually said. “A sky banner? An ad during the local news?”

  “We kissed for the first time ever near the fountains in Marvel Square.”

  My heart clenching, I nudged his shoulder. “More like in the fountains from what I heard.”

  Color filled his face. “How was I supposed to remember they’d randomly shoot water everywhere?”

  “Because they’re fountains? She got soaked through.”

  “Hmm.” His gaze lowered. “It was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

  “That’s what Brianna said, too.”

  “Really?” His grin took over his face before his lips fell. “Anyway, I was going to hook up with a band I know, get them to play our favorite song, and kiss her again in the fountains—soak her through on purpose this time. Then ask her.”

&n
bsp; “She would’ve said yes.”

  “She would’ve.” Staring down, he shook his head. “Damn. I think about her. All the time.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. For both of us.”

  I broke off a blade of grass and stroked it along my scars as if tracing the patterns could cast a spell that would make them disappear. Or make my recent discovery disappear. Because I really didn’t know what to do and now wasn’t the time to ask Sean.

  “You goin’ to the Fall Fling?” he asked.

  “Doubtful.”

  “We could go together.” His face screwed up, but I already knew what he meant. “Just friends.”

  I’d never assume anything else. Our group had been a two plus one that somehow never got awkward, but Brianna and Sean had been the original two.

  “Mr. Cassidy.” Mr. Henke’s head stuck out an open classroom window. “Last I knew, a pass was for the hallway only, not the lawn outside. And you, Ms.…Ah, h—heck. Ms. Davis. Do you have a hall pass as well?”

  “Not quite.”

  He nodded slowly. “I think we can excuse you this, ah, time.” From his cringe, I got the feeling he might be willing to excuse me for the rest of the year. “You take all the time you need. But please, don’t stay outside long.” He fanned his face. “It’s hotter out here than a jalapeño enema.”

  The window banged closed as we stood.

  “Guess we should get back inside,” Sean said.

  “Yeah.” I snorted. “Want to avoid that enema.” Stepping forward, I hugged him, and nothing felt better than when he hugged me back. We stood together for a long time. Two friends missing our third, the part of us we’d never be able to leave behind. Talking about Brianna had helped my heart feel a bit less raw.

  Sean walked toward the school but turned and pistol-pointed his finger at me. “Think about the Fling.”

  “I will.”

  My poor friend was barely limping along since he’d lost Brianna. Without more information, it would be wrong for me to bring his hurt to the surface all over again.