A Good Killing (13 page)

“This was posted too?” Anna asked. Jody nodded. “Did the police look into whether she was sexually assaulted? These boys could have done anything while she was passed out. You can see what was on their minds.”

“Those are football players. You think the Holly Grove police are gonna do anything that’ll hurt the team?”

“There was no investigation?”

Jody shook her head.

“Did the school do anything?”

“To their darlings? Of course not. Hayley was teased by the kids for a couple weeks. They were merciless. She was slut-shamed and mocked and cast out. These pictures were all over Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. The sites eventually made the kids take them down. But the adults in Holly Grove, the ones she trusted to help her, did nothing but hurt her even more. Even the moms—they were all saying that Hayley shouldn’t have been drinking so much, that anything that happened was her own fault. And then she killed herself.”

Sparky sat up suddenly and looked at Cooper. The dog poked his nose persistently into Cooper’s legs. Anna realized Cooper was having a pre-PTSD reaction. Hearing about Hayley made him almost as upset as it made her.

“It’s okay, boy,” Cooper ran his hands through the dog’s fur. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

They all knew it wasn’t.

20

T
he next morning, Anna sat at the kitchen table sorting eggs into cartons to be sold at a farmers’ market, while Cooper stood at the stove, making breakfast. Sparky lay on her feet. Jody came down the stairs, her hair disheveled from sleep, still wearing pajamas. She looked pale and exhausted.

“Hey, Jo,” Anna said.

“Come have some breakfast,” Cooper said.

Jody shuffled over to the table and sat next to Anna. She leaned over to read the headlines of the
Detroit News
, which, thankfully, did not have a story about the coach on the front page today. Cooper gave Jody a plate heaped with bacon and scrambled eggs, sprinkled with fresh cilantro. Jody took one look at the plate and bolted from her chair. Anna heard her in the bathroom, retching, and followed her there. She held Jody’s hair back while Jody heaved into the toilet. When she was finished, Anna gave her a wet washcloth to wipe her face.

“Thanks,” Jody moaned. She flushed, put the lid down, and buried her head in the washcloth. “Ugh. I feel awful.”

“I didn’t realize you had that much to drink last night,” Anna said.

“I didn’t either.”

Anna looked at her sister. “When was the last time you had your period?”

“I dunno.” Jody’s eyes got wide. “Oh God.”

One trip to the pharmacy later, the women were back in the same bathroom, looking at the pregnancy test stick that Jody had peed on. The line in the little window became an unmistakable
blue, darkening at approximately the same speed that Jody’s face drained of color.

“You’re pregnant,” Anna said. “Congratulations?”

•  •  •

The first thing Anna wanted to know was, “Who’s the father?”

Jody just shook her head. “Nobody.”

“It’s a miracle!”

Jody didn’t laugh. Anna pushed a plate of dry toast closer to Jody. They sat at the kitchen table. Cooper was outside with Sparky, working in the orchard.

“Eat. It’ll make you feel better.”

Jody took a bite, chewed, and looked repulsed.

“Seriously?” Anna couldn’t hide the hurt in her voice. “You’re not going to tell me who the father is?”

“Maybe
I
don’t know who the father is,” Jody said.

Anna looked at her sister, trying to figure out if she was kidding.

“Never mind.” Jody pushed the toast away and went upstairs. Anna could hear the shower going. She sighed and cleaned up the dishes. When Jody came down again, her hair was damp and she’d changed into jeans and a yellow T-shirt. She said, “I want to go home.”

“You don’t even have a toilet yet,” Anna said.

“I’ll get one. I need to go home.”

Anna went outside to tell Cooper.

“You don’t have to leave,” Cooper said. “It’s great having you guys here.”

“I need to be in my own house now,” Jody said, standing on the dirt patio. “Maybe I’m nesting. But I really appreciate your hospitality.”

Anna met Cooper’s eyes and nodded. She went inside, changed the sheets on Cooper’s bed, and packed up her few things. Down in the foyer, she realized she was wearing his T-shirt and promised to return it soon.

“Keep it,” he said. “I like the idea of you wrapped in my shirt.”

Cooper helped them load their few belongings into Jody’s truck. Sparky sat on Cooper’s foot as he waved good-bye to them. Both dog and master tilted their heads to the left, looking mournful as they pulled out.

Anna steered through the empty streets of Detroit. An overpass a few blocks from Cooper’s house was covered in graffiti.
#NOHIPSTERS
stood out in puffy red letters. They passed the old Packer auto factory, which was now an abandoned shell, similarly covered in graffiti.
EPIC DECAY
was sprayed across the top in electric blue.

“Do you want to keep the baby?” Anna asked.

“I don’t know.” Jody leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes.

“Do you want me to schedule an appointment with your ob-gyn? Or Planned Parenthood?”

“Eventually.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Mm. Yes. But . . . not right now.”

Jody kept her eyes closed. They drove the rest of the way in silence. Jody might have been sleeping, or she might have kept her eyes closed to shut down any more attempts at conversation. Anna drove, but hardly noticed the traffic on the street. She tried to picture her fiercely independent little sister as a mother. She couldn’t do it.

At Jody’s house, they began to clean up the chaos the police had left behind. Anna had never been on this side of a search warrant—trying to put the pieces back together again. She wasn’t sure where to start. She began putting pots and pans away. Jody tried to push the kitchen table back into place.

“Hey, not in your delicate condition,” Anna said.

“I’ve been drinking all week,” Jody said. “And I have to keep working on the line. This kid is gonna have to be hardy.”

Together, they moved the table back to its spot. Anna cleaned the kitchen while Jody tackled the spare bedroom. In a stack of papers on the floor, Anna found her own wedding invitation. She held the creamy white cardstock.

It is with great happiness that

Jack Bailey and Anna Curtis

invite you to celebrate the beginning of their life together

at their marriage ceremony.

The Blown-Away Inn, Shenandoah, Virginia

July 5, 2014, at 5:00
P.M.

Dinner, dancing, and merriment to follow.

Three weeks and five days from today. She ran her fingers over the embossed text. Drops splashed onto the cardstock. She leaned back against the wall and let the tears come. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry since the night she’d broken up with Jack. Jody’s problems had distracted her. But now she couldn’t help but compare where she was to where she thought she was going to be today. She loved this man. She loved his daughter. She thought she would spend the rest of her life with them—and this made her life finally make sense. She was going to be a wife, and a mother, and live in a beautiful yellow Victorian. The invitation in her hands led to a perfect life, surrounded by love and security. And it was nothing but scrap paper now.

She was adrift from everything that had tethered her for the last few years. And the one thing she’d always counted on in her life—Jody—seemed like a kite whose string had snapped and was flying away from her. Anna felt like she didn’t even know her sister anymore.

She tried to muffle the sound of her crying. How ridiculous to be crying about her wedding when her sister was being investigated for murder.

She tucked the wedding invitation into her purse. She took several deep breaths and wiped her eyes. She went back to cleaning the kitchen. The only way to get through grief was to keep moving forward, hour by hour, tackling one small job at a time until, one day, enough space and time would exist between her heart and the reason for its ache, and she wouldn’t feel it so much.

They worked all day putting things back into place. Jody ordered Chinese for lunch. The plumber came and installed the sink, toilets, and washing machine. By the time the sun was setting, most of the stuff was back in place. They still needed to wash off the black dust that had been left from the police fingerprinting, and the grime from all the police walking through, but at least it felt like a home again.

Jody sank down at the kitchen table, looking exhausted but more comfortable now that she was back in her own home. “God, I want a cigarette,” she said. Anna raised her eyebrows and glanced at her sister’s stomach. Jody sighed and stayed in her seat.

Anna went to the fridge and peered into the take-out containers, wondering whether there was enough lo mein left to provide dinner for two. For three, really. Jody had to eat for two. She scooped some noodles onto a plate and stuck it in the microwave. When it beeped, she put most of it on a plate for Jody, and a small portion on a plate for herself. If there was any left over from Jody, she’d eat it.

She set the plates down, and Jody dug in. “Thanks, Annie.”

While they were eating, the doorbell rang. Anna looked at Jody, who shrugged. Anna went to the door and peered out the peephole. On the porch stood a uniformed police officer and Detective Rob Gargaron, who wore a shirt and tie and a badge on a metal chain around his neck. This was not a social call. Anna opened the door and glared at him.

“I thought you were going to go easy on the house,” she said. “Like a virgin.”

She was surprised by how angry she was. She knew the police were just doing their job. She’d been part of it plenty of times herself.

“I’m sorry,” Rob said. He met her eyes and seemed, for a brief moment, actually sorry. “Is your sister home?”

Jody came to the foyer. “You could have at least left me a toilet.”

“I couldn’t, actually. I was required to search your house and seize anything described in the warrant. A warrant is a court order.
So is this.” Rob reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper. He handed it to Anna. She opened it and saw the title across the top: ARREST WARRANT. The charge was first-degree homicide.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Rob said, as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

21

T
here were no streetlights on the dirt road, and the night was as dark as night can be. The Corvette’s headlights cut a small slice of visibility, only lighting up the brush directly in front of the car. My senses were so heightened, it seemed like I could feel every pebble the car went over. Coach put a hand on my thigh and squeezed gently. The world seemed to tilt.

“I love your legs,” he said. “You have the most beautiful, strong sprinter’s legs.”

My breathing came fast and shallow. He slowed the car and pulled onto a patch of grass that was blocked on three sides by trees. He looked at me, then turned off the headlights. The world went black.

After a minute, my eyes adjusted enough that I could see his face ever so faintly, just the vaguest impression of his features. He leaned in and kissed me. His lips were dry and insistent. I was dizzy—partly from everything I’d had to drink, but also because the situation felt so surreal.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. This was everything I’d ever dreamed of. And it was so wrong.

“Coach,” I said. “I’m not sure I want to do this.”

“Shh,” he whispered. He unzipped my winter jacket and squeezed my breast through my shirt. “Be a good girl, now.”

“Stop,” I said. “Please. Let me think.”

He murmured, “You want this too.”

I thought of his pregnant wife. I thought of Mrs. Weiscowicz bringing Mom a casserole. I thought of how I felt at the peak of the high jump. This felt like the opposite.

“It’s not right,” I said.

“No one will ever know.”

“I’ll know,” I said. “I don’t want to do this. Please, Coach. Please take me home.”

I scooched as far from him as I could, till my back was pressed against the passenger door. He was breathing hard as he looked at me. Then he grabbed my legs and pulled me down flat on the leather seat. He angled himself on top of me.

“You called me out of my house in the middle of the night. You made me drive halfway across the county. We’re not going anywhere till we finish what we came here to do.”

He pulled my jeans and panties down. Then he fumbled with his own zipper.

“No,” I said, panicking. “No!” I pushed his chest, trying to get him off. But he was so much bigger than me. It was like pushing a brick wall.

“Shut your mouth.” It was the same voice he used at sports camp when giving an order:
Give me twenty push-ups
or
Take two laps around the track
. It was the same voice he used with Devin back at the house. But now it didn’t make me think how much of a man he was; now it just made me fear him. “You know this is what you want,” he said. “You’ve been begging for it all year. It’s why you called me tonight. Now lie back and enjoy it.”

I started to cry. He freed himself from his pants and pressed into my thighs, fumbling to get it in. “No, no, no, no.” I pushed at his chest and hit him in the face. He grunted with pain and pinned my arms above my head. I couldn’t move.

“Please, Coach,” I sobbed. “Please. I don’t want to do this.”

“You trashy little dicktease.” His hands tightened around my wrists. “I’m not going to say this again. Shut up and take it.”

I couldn’t stop crying, so he kept my wrists pinned with one hand and covered my face with the other. He had big hands that covered my mouth, nose, and eyes. I couldn’t yell anymore. I couldn’t see, or breathe, or talk. And then he tore inside of me.

I was stunned by the pain. Before that night, I hadn’t gone past second base. I stilled from the shock of how much it hurt.