And When I Die, page 19
“Jordan, we’re just talking to all of Whitney’s friends and we wanted to ask you a few questions,” Prentiss said.
“Okay,” she said as she ran her hand through the slick of her ponytail.
“How long were you and Whitney friends?” she asked.
“Since we were three.”
“Best friends, right?”
“Yeah, best friends.”
“But you hadn’t been getting along lately, right?” Diehl asked.
Heat flamed across her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “No, not really.”
Diehl pulled her phone from her suit jacket pocket and swiped across the screen, which blazed to life with the fight from the party. From the corner of her eye, her mother sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing her temple with her fingers.
“What happened the night of the birthday party?” Diehl asked.
Jordan chewed on her bottom lip and looked down at her skirt. “We just both got a little heated, that’s all.”
“Huh.” Diehl scratched her chin before swiping some more across the phone’s screen. “Did it have something to do with these tweets about you?”
“Tweets?” her mom asked, straightening up. “What tweets?”
“It’s nothing, Mom.”
“It seems a few weeks ago there were some not-so-nice things said about your daughter online,” Diehl said.
“What? Are you serious?” her mom asked, looking at her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Mom, give it a rest.”
“What things?” her mom demanded. “What were they saying?”
“Jordan, did you think Whitney had something to do with the tweets?” Prentiss asked, ignoring her mother.
“Whitney was totally behind it.”
“We also had some witnesses say that the Friday morning before the party, you threatened to ‘fuck Whitney up’.” Diehl put her notebook down as her mother gasped. “What did you mean by that?”
Jordan’s heart dropped to her shoes and for a moment, the only sound she heard was the blood pounding in her ears.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” she finally said. “Just talking, that’s all.”
“The night of the party, you said to Whitney, ‘I will tell everyone what you did’.” Diehl narrowed her eyes. “What were you going to tell everyone about Whitney?”
Damn. They’d heard that?
Jordan’s mouth went dry and from the corner of her eye, she could see her mother’s jaw drop open as she stared at her.
“It was just a stupid fight.”
One of Diehl’s eyebrows went up as she stared at Jordan for a few minutes, allowing the silence to stretch between them like silly putty. “Okay,” she finally said. “And where were you on Saturday?”
Her breath quickened. She went to swipe her hands through her hair then plopped them back down in her lap. “At the library.”
“Anybody that can verify that?”
“I mean, I don’t know if anyone saw me, but I was gone all day,” Jordan said.
Prentiss clicked her pen. “What time?”
She pursed her lips. “My dad dropped me off around ten that morning and I came home about nine-thirty.”
“Why so late?”
“Well, I was babysitting.”
“Who’d you babysit for?” Prentiss asked, her pen hovering over her notepad.
“Detectives, my daughter really needs to get to school,” her mom said.
“Jordan?” Prentiss looked at her, her eyes two slits of skepticism. “The name of the family you were babysitting for that Saturday night?”
Jordan’s throat closed, her head heavy as a bowling ball. Why did her mother have to be sitting here? With her mom sitting here, she had to keep to her story about babysitting. That meant they would call the Zindels and they would tell them Jordan hadn’t been babysitting for them that night, or any other night in the last six months.
She was screwed. So, so screwed.
Her mother’s phone blared. She looked down at it and groaned. “Client emergency.” Without saying anything else, her mother jumped up and ran out of the room, phone glued to her ear.
It was the break Jordan needed.
“Listen, I don’t want my mom to know where I was on Saturday,” she whispered. “I told her I went babysitting after the library, but really, I was at this coffee house, club kind of thing in Evanston, and if I tell her that’s where I was, she’ll freak.”
“What’s the name?” Prentiss asked.
“It’s called Click’s. It’s—they do like slam poetry and stuff like that. She hates that kind of thing.”
“Did you go with anyone? Anyone that can vouch for you?” Diehl asked.
“No, I—I took the train, the Metra. It was a last-minute thing.”
“Do you still have your ticket?”
“It was on my phone. It’s gone now.” She glanced over her shoulder at the approaching sound of her mom’s voice. “Please? Don’t say anything?”
Her mom came back in before either of the detectives answered and Jordan was left to cast them nervous, pleading glances, hoping they didn’t press her anymore about Saturday night.
“My goodness, it’s always something with clients.” Her mother exhaled as she regarded the detectives. “I really do have to cut this short. Jordan has school—”
“We just had one more question,” Diehl said. “What else were you and Whitney fighting about?”
Jordan pressed her lips together, partially grateful for the detour, even if it still wasn’t a question she wanted to answer. “I told you, it was just a stupid fight. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Detectives—”
“God, Mom, stop—”
“This is really the time to tell us everything going on between you and Whitney,” Diehl said.
“It was over a guy, okay?” she said, her voice scratchy with irritation before she remembered she was trying to stay on their good side. “She said some stuff to him about me and I was pissed—”
“Jordan!”
“Mom, please—! I was pis—upset about it and we stopped being friends. That’s it. I swear.”
Diehl ran her tongue across her bottom lip. “What was this boy’s name?”
“Alex. He was … he was just this guy we met at a party. It was no big deal and whatever, I was almost over it.”
Diehl nodded, her pen scribbling. “Alex what?”
“I don’t know his last name. We only met him like a few times. I don’t know anything about him.”
“You have a phone number, an email address for him?” Diehl asked.
“No, I deleted everything.”
Diehl frowned. “What about the people at the party?”
“They were Whitney’s friends. I didn’t know them.”
Diehl rapidly tapped her pen against the metal spirals of her notebook before flipping it closed. “Thanks for your time. We’ll be back in touch.”
Without a word, Erica showed them out, while Jordan sat hunched over on the ottoman, trembling.
Her mother came and stood in front of her, hands on her hips. “Are you okay?” she finally asked.
“I’m fine,” Jordan said, surprised. She expected another interrogation. Maybe that was coming later. She stood up, slinging her book bag over her shoulder and brushing past her mother. “I’m going to miss the bus.”
“So you and Whitney were fighting about a boy. That’s what this whole thing was about, the whole reason why the two of you stopped talking?”
“Mom, please, just stop.” She looked at her phone. “I’m going to be late.”
Her mother’s phone pealed again. She scoffed. “I have to take this. Jordan, we’re not done with this conversation—”
Jordan didn’t say a word as she stormed out of the house and sprinted toward the bus stop, barely making it. She flopped back against her seat, her head swimming from the impromptu interrogation.
She had lied. About everything. Where she was on Saturday, the imaginary boy named Alex. All of it.
She wasn’t worried about her mother. She’d just boo hoo a little and suck up to her and her mom would get out of her face.
The cops were a whole different thing, though. But honestly … could they really figure out she was lying?
No. Probably not. Everything she said was so vague.
Besides, Whitney was dead, so she wasn’t talking.
And just like Whitney, she’d take her secrets to the grave.
44
AVA
She needed Carly out of the house.
Her quick overnight had turned into a week and now here she was in almost the exact same spot she’d been in last Saturday as she steeled herself to confront her daughter about the bloody sweatshirt she’d found. However, the trip had given her plenty of time to think and she concluded that if there was a bloody sweatshirt, it reasoned there was more evidence possibly tying her to Whitney’s murder. Which meant she needed to search the girl’s room and her car.
Because she needed to know.
She hadn’t yet worked out what she would actually do if she found anything. Crossing bridges when she got to them, she supposed. Right now, she just needed the girl gone so she could do her searching in solitude.
Carly was upstairs, her face likely buried in her phone or watching one of her Lifetime movies, or probably both. Ava sipped her coffee as she drummed rapid, agitated fingers against the side of her coffee mug.
“Hey, Mate, I’m off to the hardware store and the bank,” Kyle said as he bounded down the stairs. “You need anything?”
Her head swiveled around at the sound of his voice, the moment seizing her. “Take Carly with you.”
“What?”
Ava pursed her lips in an attempt to force herself to stay and appear calm. “What I meant was, I was just thinking maybe you could take her to lunch or for ice cream or even a movie. You guys used to do that all the time.”
“Right, in case you missed it, she doesn’t much care to roll with the old man anymore.”
“Just—I think it would be good for her to spend some time with you. With us. Maybe tonight we’ll order in a pizza and watch movies. You know, like we used to when the kids were little.”
Kyle stared at her, his face scrunched together in confusion. “Have you gone mad?”
Ava dumped the dregs of her coffee into the sink. “We should just spend more time together as a family, that’s all.”
“Some of us were going over to Joe’s tonight to watch the American football match.”
“Okay, it’s a football game, and … I’m sure Lauren and Steve wished they could spend more time with Whitney.”
“Right.” Kyle exhaled. “Okay, I’ll stop by the bank, skip the hardware store and take her to The Lantern for a burger and walk over to Sweet’s after for ice cream.”
Ava did a quick calculation. Two hours and some change at least. Plenty of time to search Carly’s room and car.
“Perfect. I’ll come up with some movie ideas for tonight.”
He pecked her cheek before calling upstairs for Carly, who didn’t respond, so he went up to her room to relay the Saturday plan. Ava paced the kitchen for a few moments, keeping her ear cocked for whines of dissent. A few minutes later, she heard them descend the stairs and she made a big show of rinsing her coffee mug and putting it in the dishwasher before wiping down her clean counters to keep herself busy. Carly pouted as she pulled on her coat, while Kyle seemed to beam at the prospect of spending some time with his daughter.
“You guys heading out?” she asked innocently.
“Yeah, we’ll be back in a few hours,” Kyle said as he ruffled Carly’s hair. “Come on, Lamb.”
“Dad, stop.”
“Have fun,” Ava said to their retreating backs.
She listened for the sound of Kyle pulling out of the driveway then edged over to the front window to watch them drive off down the street. As soon as they were out of her sight, she bolted upstairs to Carly’s bedroom. The door was closed and she flung it open, not sure what mess to tackle first, before beelining for her dresser, carefully opening the drawers to rifle through the contents, mindful not to disturb things too much, lest she raise suspicion.
Ava continued her tour around the room, searching Carly’s closet, pawing through the stacks of clothes, skimming through the books and papers scattered across her desk and checking under the bed. Unlike her own sixteen-year-old self, her daughter didn’t keep a diary. Maybe girls didn’t do that anymore.
A sliver of sweat ran down the side of her face as she flopped down on the bed, satisfied she’d unearthed every secret the room held. She looked at her watch. She’d been in here about forty-five minutes, leaving her plenty of time to search the car. She ran down the hall to her bedroom for the spare key before flying down the stairs and outside, shivering as she threw the door open, her thin sweater no match for the crisp fall breeze. She quickly deactivated the alarm, preparing to jump inside.
“Ava, hi!”
She stopped cold, whipping around at the sound of her next-door neighbor, Jaime, all five feet of her waving excitedly to Ava over the hood of her own car, her strawberry blond ponytail swaying behind her.
“Jamie, hi,” she said meekly.
The woman held up her wrist, tapping it. “How much longer?”
Ava looked down at her cast. “Oh. A few more weeks, I think.”
“Ugh. I’ll bet it’s itching something awful, isn’t it?”
“A little, yeah.”
“I remember when Tobias broke his wrist when we were first dating. Oh, and actually, you knew Spatz fractured his wrist last year, right?”
“I remember that, yes.”
Jaime took a deep breath and rolled her eyes and Ava groaned inwardly, because she knew the woman was gearing up to drop a story on her. She’d never met a woman with more stories, all of them long and boring.
Not today, not today, not today. Dear God, not today.
“My gosh, we are having to do so much travel for Spatz’s swimming. Meet after meet, every weekend. It’s exhausting. Thank goodness we’re getting this weekend off.”
“Yeah, I remember going through that with Jimmy.”
“Oh, my gosh, let me tell you about the trip from last weekend—actually, how is Jimmy? Coming home for Christmas?”
Ava glanced at Carly’s car, then down the street, irrational panic that she and Kyle would be ambling toward the house any minute surging through her. Logically, she knew there was plenty of time before they got back, but frittering it away with a bunch of BS chitchat would eat into it.
“Yeah, he’s planning on it. It’ll be good to have him home.” She racked her brain for an excuse to get out of prolonging this conversation. She could just get in the car and go somewhere, but she didn’t want to chance it.
“That’s great. Anyway, this trip last weekend—” Jaime’s Fitbit sounded and she jumped before a nervous, sputtering giggle burst from her lips. “Oh, gosh, I said I was going to the gym for a class today since I had the time. I guess I better scoot. See you soon,” she said breezily as she got into her car.
Ava didn’t bother waving goodbye as the woman backed out of the driveway before she pounced and opened the car door, patting the seats and floor and ransacking the armrest, relief flooding through her with each non-discovery. All that was left to check was the glove compartment and the trunk and she’d be home free.
There’s nothing here, there’s nothing here.
She yelped when she accidentally banged her cast against the door handle, but kept going, determined to get this done in one shot. She yanked the glove compartment open in order to rummage through the contents. Car manual, registration, insurance card, a flashlight, Kleenex, and protein bars.
And shoved way in the back, the last thing on earth Ava wanted to see, much less lay her hands on.
She gasped when she saw it, shock and fear pushing tears to the rims of her eyes. With the sleeve of her shirt wrapped over her trembling fingers, she reached in and dislodged the bloody X-ACTO utility knife from inside the glove box, it’s thick black handle still smeared with brownish-red streaks. Ava could only stare at it, the awful possibilities blazing to life in stunning, inescapable color.
“Oh, God. Carly. What did you do?”
45
ERICA
Erica took a slow sip of her coffee as she stared out the kitchen window, the waves of Lake Michigan churning gently. She kept her ear cocked for the sound of Jordan clomping down the stairs. It was Saturday. Jay had left early for the office and she’d already dropped Kennedy off at gymnastics earlier that morning. She glanced at the clock. Any minute now.
On cue, Jordan clattered into the kitchen. Erica couldn’t help but frown at the oversized hoodie and jeans, hair hanging limp and frizzy at her shoulders, not even a stich of makeup. Her daughter was usually so stylish, so attuned to wearing the latest fashions. These days, she looked like she crawled out of the garbage can.
Instead of spitting out the retort simmering on her lips, she simply smiled. “Good morning.”
“Hi,” Jordan said, going into the refrigerator for one of her Greek yogurts.
“Jordan.”
“What?” she responded as she slammed the door shut, shaking the kitchen.
“I’ve decided to give you your car and phone back.”
“You—seriously?”
“I think you’ve learned your lesson about your behavior the night of Whitney’s party.” Erica turned her attention back to the window, the tops of the trees blowing slightly. “Somehow, it all seems so trivial now.”
She rubbed her now stitch-free ear. “Yeah. I guess.”
“So,” Erica said as she reached into her pocket for the phone and car keys, placing them on the counter. “Here you are.”
Jordan frowned as she looked at the phone. “You got me a new phone?”
“You were due for an upgrade, so I went ahead and took care of that.”
“Oh. Wow. Thanks.”
Erica held out her arms. “You’re welcome, darling,” she said as Jordan ran around the table to embrace her, the freesia shampoo and Juicy Couture perfume igniting a kaleidoscope of memories, mostly joy and wonder.
