The Cabin (10 page)

The inside of the shed was filled with dust, mud, and more cobwebs. The floor was littered with empty packets of chips and bottles of drink. I frowned. “We're not going to find anything, are we?”

Blake scratched the back of his neck. “If you want to continue looking for someone else, I'm with you.”

“But?” I prompted, sensing he had more to say.

“But I think it was one of your friends.”

I gulped and shook my head. “No, it couldn't have been. They wouldn't.”

“That's what they want you to believe, yes.”

“No. I need to keep searching. Check the use-by dates on the litter. Some might be recent.”

“And that will prove…?”

I don't know!
“Please, Blake,” I said. I knew I was looking for a needle in a haystack and searching rubbish was plain ridiculous, but I had to find evidence that pointed to an intruder. I couldn't accept the killer was one of my friends.

He held up his hands. “All right, let's look at rubbish.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

This is absolutely absurd. We're checking litter. This investigation is at an all-time low.

Blake knelt down and picked up a faded packet of chips. I wanted to tell him that the bag had clearly been here a long time, but he was doing me a favor. “I hope your friends appreciate you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You're doing everything you can to prove their innocence—innocence you don't even know is there—including sifting through crap. What're they doing for you?”

“I don't do things to get something in return.”

“No, but perhaps you should ask yourself if you're being appreciated a little more often.”

I didn't respond, but picked up a crumpled biscuit packet. Gasping, I shoved the packet toward him. “Blake, look!” There was blood on it. Not a lot, but I hoped against all the odds that it was blood to link the real murderer to the crime. A frown slipped onto his forehead as he studied it.

“How long do you think it's been there?” I asked.

“How the hell should I know?”

“Well, does it look like old blood?”

He shrugged. “I dunno.”

Outside, I heard a snap and froze. Gripping Blake's arm, I looked at the doorway in horror. “Did you hear that?” I whispered.

“Uh-huh,” Blake replied, taking a step forward and tilting his head. I tightened my fingers around his bicep and kept myself rigid, trying to hold him back. He looked over his shoulder. “I need to check it out,” he said in a low voice, dropping the bloodstained packet.

Shaking my head, I tugged him closer, but he barely moved. “Don't. It could be them.”

“It could be an animal.”

“Please, Blake, I'm—” Another snap had me clenching my teeth together and my heart sinking to my toes. “Don't go out there,” I discouraged.

Blake reached down and pulled my hand from his arm. “Stay here.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Not half as much as I'm starting to think you are.” His eyes darkened as he leaned closer. “And don't ever question my mental health again.”

I took a step back, away from him.

“Stay here, Mackenzie,” he growled.

Holding my breath, I watched him cautiously step out of the shed. I couldn't let him go out alone. What if the killer was out there? It was unlikely, but I hadn't thought something bad could happen at the cabin either.

Gathering as much courage as I could, I stepped into the woods and held my breath. Blake rounded the corner of the shed and almost slammed into me. I jumped backward and scowled as he smirked.

“It was a deer,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Deer—four-legged creature that lives in the woods?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know what a deer is. Are you sure that's what it was?”

“Well, if not, it was a very ugly person.” He reached down and picked up the packet from just inside the doorway. “So you really want to take this?”

“Yes,” I replied.
It's just a deer, calm down.
“I think the blood looks new…ish.”

Blake laughed and shook his head. He thought I was an idiot, but at least I was being proactive.

“This isn't funny, Blake. Why aren't you taking this seriously?”

“Because you've got us sifting through garbage. I'll humor you and we'll take this to Wright.” He stood up. “Now come on, before you find a dead bird and accuse that of—”

“All right, thank you.” I turned on my heel and stomped away. Keeping my cool with him was hard, even when he was trying to help.

“Mackenzie?”

“Yeah.”

“What will you do if one of them is the killer?”

“I honestly don't know,” I said, and tried to shake the thought from my mind. “Will you help me? No one else seems overly enthusiastic about investigating. I need someone,” I whispered.

He frowned. “Are you gonna cry? I don't do well with hysterical women, remember?”

“I'm not going to cry. Not yet.”

“You've set a timer?” he teased.

I smiled. “When this is all over. Until then, I'm strong Mackenzie.”

“Your friends really are lucky.”

I shrugged off his compliment. It's what anyone would do for the people they cared about. “So will you help?”

The corner of his mouth pulled up, and he did a little bow. “I'm at your service, Detective Keaton.”

I breathed out sharply, relieved that I had someone to go through all this with—even if that person drove me insane most of the time. I knew that, together, we could figure out the truth of what happened.

He reached out and brushed his thumb over my little finger. His touch sent a bolt of electricity through every inch of my body.

“Thank you, Blake,” I whispered.

After leaving the cabin, Blake and I dropped the bloodstained packet off to an amused Wright at the police station and then went back to Blake's house. The second we stepped through the door, I could tell he wanted nothing more than to leave again. He walked slowly into the living room. His mum sat in the same chair where she had spent Josh's entire wake. The TV was on, but she didn't seem to be watching it. She stared into space, not moving at all. I could only tell she was alive by the rise and fall of her chest.

“Hi, Eloise,” I said to the statue of his mum. She didn't even blink. I looked to Blake for help.

He shook his head discreetly, his lips thinning. I guessed this empty shell was normal for her now. “Let's go up to my room,” he said.

I took a quick glance back at his mom as I followed Blake out of the room. Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken. Her hair was slick with grease and tied into a messy ponytail on top of her head. She looked as if she had checked out days ago and just left her body behind.

“Is she OK?” I asked as we reached the top of the stairs and were out of her way, not that she would have acknowledged she'd heard me if I had asked him right in front of her.

“Not really.” He pushed the door open and nodded, gesturing for me to go in first.

Wow, he can be a gentleman.

His room was plain and bare. A dull light blue covered the walls, and there was nothing hanging from them to personalize it. The only furniture was a double bed, bedside table, and wardrobe. A flat-screen TV hung from the wall opposite the bed, but it looked old, probably secondhand from when they'd replaced another one in the house. I imagined Eloise buying a new one for the lounge and saying,
Oh, we can put the old one in Blake's room
. His bedroom reminded me of a cheap hotel room.

“I've never spent much time here,” he explained.

“It's fine.” I wasn't sure why he felt he had to explain it to me. I didn't care how it looked. “Have you heard from Wright?”

“Nope, but that's hardly surprising since it's been two minutes.”

I sat down on the bed. “All right, I'm impatient!”

“Please, make yourself at home,” he said playfully, teasing me. “He does that on purpose, I think.”

“What, not contacting us?”

He plopped down on the bed, making me bounce. “Yeah. You'd think he would be on our case twenty-four seven, so he's not. Whatever we expect, he does the opposite.”

“Ah, to mess with us. He doesn't seem like a proper detective.”

“I dunno”—he shrugged—“I'd probably be cocky and arrogant if I were a detective.”

I snorted, and he rolled his eyes—if he were a detective my arse.

“Moving on,” he snapped, amusement clear in his eyes. “What fun activities do you have for us now? Digging up graves? Sifting through sewers?”

“Why don't you suggest some options if you don't like what I'm doing?” I could've used the help.

“We could talk to Tilly's dad. You know, maybe something he says will tell us more than looking through people's rubbish.”

He absentmindedly reached over and stroked the back of my hand with his thumb as he spoke. I wasn't sure if he realized how he was making me feel, but I liked it way too much. Every touch had me feeling like I was falling. I wasn't sure if I was falling
for
him or about to fall
because
of him. At that point, it could have been either.

“I found blood, didn't I?” I replied, my voice wavering while I tried to keep my hormones in check.

“Probably from a half-dead animal, but whatever.”

“We'll see. Wright is going to have it tested.”

“I thought he would laugh in our faces and tell us to leave.”

He didn't laugh, but he was definitely amused by our investigative work. “Um, because he knows I'm right.”

“Either that or the blood will be from one of your friends and you dropped them right in it.”

My world slammed to an abrupt stop. What if it was? Would that mean they'd done it? No, it couldn't be. “It won't be theirs,” I said, my throat closing around the words.

“Whatever you say. My money's on Kyle though.”

Did Blake know about Kyle's affair with Courtney? “Why Kyle?”

“He has those dark eyes. They look mysterious slash serial killer.”

I laughed. “‘Mysterious slash serial killer'? Brown eyes don't make you a murderer.”

“It's not the color. Just the way they look.”

I shook my head. Blake was no longer making sense.

“So…Lawrence's?” he said. “I'm assuming that's Goldilocks's dad?”

“Yes, and how do you know Tilly was blond?”

“I can sniff blonds out. It's a gift.”

“You're a pig!”

He laughed, standing up as I did. “I do know you all, you know. Well, I know of you.” Right, he had seen us from the car as his parents had done the child swap. “How far away does Lawrence live?”

“Five minutes. We all live close.”

“I hate small villages.”

“There's nothing wrong with this village.”

“Sure, if you don't mind a bit of murder every now and then,” he muttered.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed his words to the back of my mind. I was grateful that he was helping me, but his little jabs weren't helpful. He joked about situations to make people think he didn't care about anything. But that wasn't true. Blake cared, but for some reason, he wouldn't drop the tough-guy act.

“And where you're from is so much better?”

“Towns are better. Fact. Here, everyone knows your business, and they all look at you, wondering what you're up to. In towns, people have lives. In villages, people's lives are other people's lives.”

“OK then.” We reached the bottom of the stairs, and I frowned in concern. Should we leave his mom alone? “Blake, is she really OK? I feel like we should do something for her.”

Eloise sat in the same position, still, motionless. I wished Blake and I had met somewhere else. I understood why he didn't like staying at his mom's anymore. Usually, I was good with grieving people. I could do or say something to try to help, but not with Eloise. She gave me nothing to work with. Crying I could handle. Angry I could handle. An emotionless statue? I drew a blank.

“Has your mum eaten anything? Maybe we should make her a sandwich before we leave,” I said as we stopped outside the lounge door.

“She won't eat it even if you make something—never does.”

“What about you?”

“I'm a big boy, Mackenzie. I can look after myself.” He walked to the front door, and I followed.

“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.