The Cabin

  "You don't cook," I said. He wasn't that helpful when my friends and I were preparing dinner.

  "I can if I want to. I can even use a washing machine."

  "Whoa, never knew guys like you existed. My dad still has to ask what setting it goes on if he's forced to do it."

  Blake smirked. "He knows. If he pisses you off by asking every time, you won't make him do it. I would have done the same, but it being just me and Dad at home..."

  "I've never met your dad."

  He unlocked his car and opened the door. "We're not quite there yet."

  Rolling my eyes, I got in the passenger side. We weren't together, and right then, that was the last thing on my mind--well, not last, but certainly behind finding my friends' killer. Whatever was happening between us though, it was real and powerful.

  "So what's this Lawrence like?" he asked.

  "He was really nice until Tilly died."

  "Understandable, I guess."

  "He doesn't like Josh, so we probably shouldn't mention you're his brother."

  He scoffed and pulled out of his driveway. "Is there anyone in this village that actually did like Josh?"

  "Courtney," I replied. "Look, he wasn't all bad, and no one actually wanted him to die."

  Blake's eyebrow arched. "One person did. We're still assuming it was just one person, right?"

  I shrugged. "Can't say I've thought too much about that. All I know is that it's not one of my friends."

  "Or more than one of your friends."

  I narrowed my eyes. "You know, when I first met you, I thought you were all right."

  Blake turned his head to me and smirked.

  "Watch the road!" I yelped.

  "Where does this guy live exactly?"

  I gave him the address and sat back, holding on and praying for my life. The accelerator was Blake's best friend. He didn't necessarily drive dangerously; he just liked to put his foot down on the gas and do it frequently.

  "What are you gonna say to him? We can't exactly knock on his door and be all, 'Hey, did you murder two teens--'"

  "I get it," I said, cutting him off. What should we say? After Tilly died, I popped around to see how her parents were and helped them sort out some of her clothes they were donating to charity, but I hadn't been by in months. Perhaps I could use that as an excuse though. "I'll say I'm checking in to make sure they're OK, like I used to. Remember: do not tell them you're related to Josh. I'm serious, Blake."

  "Yeah, I got it, but thanks for the reminder."

  I didn't talk to Blake for the rest of the short drive; we would have probably ended up bickering, and I needed to stay calm. I was an awful liar and prayed that Lawrence wouldn't see through me straightaway.

  As Blake pulled up outside the yellow brick bungalow, my heart started to pound against my chest. I might have been the only one willing to go out there and look for the real killer, but I was definitely the worst person to do it.

  "Ready?" Blake asked.

  I gulped and nodded. "Let's get this over with." I didn't want to think about Tilly's dad being the killer. I had slept in that bungalow hundreds of times and eaten Lawrence's famous cheese-and-bacon bagels more times than I could count. How could someone I know be a murderer? Murderers were on TV shows. They shouldn't exist in my world. But yet, my best friend was dead.

  I walked along the path with Blake trailing behind. He didn't make any stupid comments or try to hurry me. Tapping on the door lightly, I took a deep breath to try and calm my racing heart.

  "Mackenzie, what a surprise," Lawrence said as he opened the door. "What brings you here?"

  I smiled, going over the reason I'd rehearsed in my head on the way over. "I just wanted to come by and see how you're all doing. It's been a while."

  "It has." He nodded and looked at Blake. "And you are?"

  Don't say you're Josh's brother. Do not say you're Josh's brother.

  I wasn't sure how Lawrence would react if he knew; he hated Josh more than anyone. Blake held his hand out, and Lawrence shook it. "Everyone calls me Spike." He slung his arm over my shoulder. "I'm Mackenzie's boyfriend."

  I am going to kill him.

  I smiled tightly, gritting my teeth. Spike? Really? He couldn't have come up with a lamer name if he'd tried. We should have discussed who he'd be in the car, but I did not see "Spike" coming.

  "Spike," Lawrence said slowly and looked at me as if it to say what on earth are you doing with this boy? Believe me, at that moment, I had no idea. "Nice to meet you. Please, come on in."

  Lawrence walked ahead, and I took the opportunity to slap Blake's arm while no one was looking. What the hell? I mouthed, which only made Blake smile.

  "You know your way to the living room. I'll make us some tea," Lawrence said over his shoulder. Blake turned his nose up but didn't ask for coffee instead.

  "OK," I replied, turning right into the living room. It was exactly the same as it had been for all the time I'd known Tilly. Light-caramel walls, a brown sofa, and oak coffee table, but they had replaced the wood-framed clock with a modern one. Tilly had hated that old clock and said it looked like it belonged in a retirement home. She would definitely have approved of the modern change.

  Blake and I waited in silence. I played with my fingers, nervously anticipating the conversation we were about to have. We couldn't exactly come right out and ask if he'd committed any murders recently.

  Beside me, Blake pressed his leg against mine and then took my hand, silently giving me strength and support. "Calm down," he whispered.

  "What if he did it?"

  "I don't think he'll admit it, Mackenzie. We'll be all right."

  "What if we're not? If he killed them, he's capable of doing the same to us."

  Gripping my chin, he tilted my face so my focus was on him. "There is nothing in this world that is going to hurt you while I am here."

  "What's happening to you?" I teased, keeping my voice as light as I could. Blake scowled as if he was unsure himself. Lawrence came into the room and set a tray of tea and biscuits down on the coffee table. Blake and I sat up straight. Our moment was over.

  "Thank you," I said. "So, how have you been?"

  Tilly's dad sat down on the worn leather sofa opposite us. "Not too bad now. Yourself?"

  "Not great."

  "Right, of course. I'm very sorry to hear about Courtney and Joshua." Are you? "You found them, didn't you?"

  I gave a small nod.

  "I'm very sorry you saw that, Mackenzie. It must be very hard to live with."

  Lawrence's voice was cold. His words didn't seem genuine or heartfelt. There was nothing that showed me he meant what he said. I had always got along with Tilly's family, but when she'd died, Lawrence had barely spoken to me--to any of Tilly's friends--for a while. I knew he would have preferred it to have been me, or any of us, who had died that night instead of Tilly--of course he would. I went to see him because it was important to me to be there for Tilly. He was polite and never turned me away, but his demeanor was nothing like it had been before. He'd been polite when we'd arrived, but now that the conversation had shifted, he didn't want me there.

  Blake's body tensed beside me. Not now. Whatever it is, not now! "I'm very sorry to hear about your daughter, Lawrence. Mackenzie's told me Tilly was a great person."

  "Thank you, Spike. She was a great person, one of the best. My Tilly was going to be a doctor. All she ever wanted was to help people."

  I smiled at the bittersweet memories of Tilly tending to us all whenever something was wrong. She would never get to pursue her dream career, and that was such a shame because she would have been an amazing doctor.

  "She would have been great at it," I said. "I lost count of the times she played doctor when someone hurt themselves. You remember when I sprained my wrist a few years ago and she insisted on checking it regularly and changing the bandage?"

  Lawrence laughed. "She drove you crazy, if I remember correctly."

  "Yeah, I had to keep stoppin
g what I was doing so she could look. There wasn't even anything to really check." I would have understood if it had been a cut she could re-dress, but there was nothing to do. That was Tilly though. Even if there was nothing significant that she could do, she still tried to help.

  "Aaron mentioned that too. Do you remember when he had pneumonia at the beginning of last year, and Tilly spent most of the week at his bedside?" Lawrence smiled fondly at the memory. "It was a shame they didn't have the chance to make a go of things. He's a good lad, and it was clear he was in love with her."

  Tilly and Aaron's relationship was so on and off, you could barely give it the relationship title. Each time they got back together, they were great, but it never lasted very long. They seemed more stuck in a habit than anything else.

  "Yeah, they would have been good together," I said. Maybe being older and more mature, they would've stood a better chance, but they'd never get that opportunity. "Aaron misses her a lot too."

  "Yes, he's here often to be close to her."

  I tried to hide the surprise on my face. Aaron came here often? We all visited but not much anymore. He mentioned coming a few times not long after the accident, but then we'd both stopped--I thought. It didn't make sense that he wouldn't tell me he still visited with Tilly's family. We talked to each other a lot about Tilly.

  What other secrets did Aaron have?

  "He still comes a lot? I didn't know that," I said.

  "Almost every week. He sits in her room or sometimes we look through pictures. I was surprised at first. Tilly was always crying over him or ranting at how much of a 'stupid, pissing idiot' he was."

  I could hear her words so clearly. She had used that phrase for Aaron so many times.

  "It really does mean a lot that he still cares for her so deeply," Lawrence said.

  It would appear that Aaron did care about Tills much more than I ever knew, but was that enough to make him hate Courtney for being the unfortunate one behind the wheel the night? And hate Josh for his part in it?

  There was something very wrong with thinking Aaron could've been their killer. He may have hated Josh, but he wasn't vengeful. He didn't ever wish harm on anyone. That wasn't his personality. That wasn't me or any of my friends.

  "That's nice. I'm glad he comes over. Tills would have been too," I said finally.

  Lawrence smiled, but his lips barely curled. "She would be."

  "How long ago was the accident?" Blake asked, putting a little too much emphasis on the word accident.

  "Eight months ago," I replied. I couldn't quite believe months had passed. It still seemed like yesterday. I could still clearly hear the sound of crunching metal, smashing glass, and my friends' screams. The minivan had rolled over before coming to an abrupt stop in a ditch. I had been in the row of seats in front of Tilly and Gigi, and if the truck had hit just a few inches forward, I probably would have died too.

  "Eight months and six days," Lawrence corrected. He shook his head. "I will never understand why Giana drank that day."

  I bit my lip. She hadn't meant to get drunk. Before losing about fifteen pounds, she could drink about five or six drinks and not feel a thing. She'd only had two beers. And she'd known enough not to drive. That's why Courtney was behind the wheel when it happened.

  "She didn't mean to," I whispered. It wasn't Gigi's fault--or Courtney's or Josh's. It was a bloody accident. Why were so many people having a hard time understanding that? We all wished we could rewind time and have a do-over of that day, but we couldn't, and it was just something we'd have to live with.

  "I believe that, but the accident happened as a direct result of Giana's drinking. She was a better driver than Courtney." The way he said Gigi's name gave me chills. She was Giana now.

  Ice froze my heart. The venom in his tone was the same as Kyle's when he'd told me how much Courtney had hurt him--he seemed so bitter now. I swallowed a massive lump building in my throat.

  Tilly's and Gigi's deaths were an accident. We were hit by a truck. The driver was irrelevant when you had a massive truck ramming you up the arse. They never stood a chance, and if Gigi had been driving, it still would have been Tilly that died.

  The man sitting in front of me wasn't who he used to be. He was cold and detached. His eyes were empty and had no empathy.

  It's him. Lawrence was the killer.

  It had to be him. The alternative was unthinkable.

  I felt my face burn as blood pumped too hard. Gripping Blake's hand, I shot up to my feet. "We should go. We have to meet Megan soon." Blake frowned, looking at me as if I had lost it. Maybe I had. At this point, going crayon-eating crazy was entirely plausible. "I'll stop by soon, Lawrence."

  He shook his head, surprised by our sudden departure. "OK."

  I held Blake's hand in a death grip and pulled him through the house and out of the front door. I could barely breathe properly. My lungs felt like they were made of lead.

  "Him," I hissed in a whisper. "It was him!"

  Blake took charge. With one hand on the small of my back, he pushed me forward, quickly leading me to his truck. "Get in," he said, opening the door for me.

  "It's him," I repeated, hands shaking in disbelief.

  "You don't know that. He didn't say anything incriminating. The way he spoke about Gigi is the way most people talk about Josh. Hating someone doesn't make you a killer, remember? Don't mess the investigation up by charging into the police station when you're all emotional like this," he said, wiggling his fingers in my direction. "Mackenzie, just sit tight."

  "What? We can't just do nothing!" Was Blake insane? Who knows if the police had even questioned Lawrence on his whereabouts that evening. They may never even consider him a suspect if we didn't speak up.

  "We don't have a choice. There's no evidence. If he's pulled in for questioning now, he'll have a chance to make sure his tracks are covered. Please, think about this carefully. Let's at least wait until Wright has the results on that blood back before we go to him with this."

  I took a deep breath. He was right of course. Logically, I understood that I could screw everything up if I accused Lawrence without proof, but I was so desperate to clear our names and not have people look at me like I was a monster. I felt like I was crawling out of my skin.

  "Fine, you're actually making sense," I replied.

  He smiled. "Look, let's go back to my place for an hour before I drop you off at Aaron's, so you can both go to Megan's later. You can't go while you're panicking."

  "Yeah, OK. Thanks, Blake."

  "Say that again."

  I rolled my eyes, looking out the window and smiling to myself. I'd teamed up with a proper idiot.

  Chapter Eleven

  I walked up Aaron's driveway and something caught my eye outside his neighbor's house. I stepped back behind the shrubs separating the two houses and peeked through the bushes. My jaw dropped. Aaron was in the back of Wright's car. There was an officer in the passenger's seat too, who was turned around saying something to Aaron.

  Rubbing my stomach, which had a knot in it, I stared intently until a second later when Wright pulled onto the road and drove away--with Aaron still in the back of the squad car!

  Blake was long gone, or we would have tailed Wright.

  Oh God, what's going on? Was Aaron arrested?

  I felt like a robot as I planted one foot in front of the other toward Megan's house. My hands shook. I got halfway there when I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed. I might trust Aaron, but I still felt sick and uneasy about the whole situation. Pick up, pick up. I held my phone so close to my ear that it hurt. "Wright just took Aaron to the station," I said the second Blake answered.

  "Oh, I'm fine. Thanks. How're you?"

  I sighed sharply and rubbed my forehead. If I could just have one conversation with him that wasn't bloody hard work, that'd be great. "Cut the sarcasm for five seconds. What does he want with him?"

  "This probably won't come as a surprise to you, but I'm not psychic."


  "Blake," I snapped. "Why don't you take anything seriously?"

  "I am. I don't know what Wright wants with him," he replied a little too coolly. Blake had his theories, and for once, I wanted to know one.

  "I know you're lying. Why don't you just tell me what you're thinking?"

  "Because, Miss Keaton, you take this detective job far too seriously." And you are too trusting of your friends, I silently added because I knew that's what he wanted to say to me.

  "Just tell me, Blake. Please."

  "The blood, Mackenzie. I think they've had the results back and the blood is Aaron's."

  I hadn't even thought of that. "No," I snapped. "The blood--it can't be his. Aaron wouldn't hurt anyone."

  "Whatever," Blake replied, and I could picture him rolling his eyes. "Just call me when you know more."

  I shivered with the cold. The sun had slipped behind a cloud, abandoning me. "Why? What're you doing?"

  "Do you really want to know?"

  "Good-bye, Blake," I said and hung up the phone, not in the mood for any more of his stupid jokes.

  I walked up to Megan's alone and tried to calm myself down. It was probably routine questioning and we would all be called back in too. That was it. I shouldn't let seeing Aaron in the back of a police car get to me.

  Before knocking on Megan's door, I sent a quick text to Mum and Dad, letting them know I'd arrived safely at Megan's house, since they needed to know my every movement now.

  Taking a deep breath and plastering on a fake smile that I was beginning to hate, I rang the doorbell. I didn't want Megan to know what was going on. It would just upset her, and Blake and I were just sort of keeping what we were doing to ourselves. Besides, he was the only other one that seemed willing to help.

  Megan opened the door and visibly relaxed. "Oh, thank God you're here!"

  I walked inside, wringing my hands out. Time to act like a normal, sane person. "What's up?"

  "My family is driving me crazy!" She slammed the front door behind her and led me into the kitchen. "Where're Aaron and Kyle?"

  I licked my lips in preparation for the lie. "Not sure. Did they say they're coming too?"

  "They just said maybe."

  "Do you mass-produce that stuff?" I asked and pointed to the four new bottles of whatever that Italian alcohol was we'd had the other night. At least it was a safer subject.

  She turned and rolled her eyes. "My grandparents keep sending it over. They brought these with them. Mum's pissed because she only just got rid of the last lot."