Only The Trees Know, page 12
Mr. Sok waited for the interpreter to go through the translation. Finally he leaned forward toward the microphone. “They were fighting.”
“Fighting?” she asked, pausing a long time to let the significance sink in with the jury.
I wanted to shout that they weren’t stupid. They didn’t need her implications to be spoon fed to them. “Stop this,” I whispered to Dawson. Why wasn’t he objecting to her theatrics?
“The fight must have been significant for you to remember. Can you describe it for us?” Ms. Johnson asked. She looked down to her podium, flipping several pages in her stack and then looked up at Mr. Sok waiting for the interpreter to finish.
The jury leaned forward and practically salivated.
Mr. Sok gestured with his hands once more with big sweeping movements. “They knocked over a shelf. It took two hours to clean. Merchandise was thrown everywhere.”
I fought not to roll my eyes. It had been a small display on the end cap. Not a big deal, a couple bags of chips, some jerky, maybe nuts. There wasn’t a whole lot of stuff disturbed. This guy made it sound like it had been World War III.
“Were Miss Adler, Mr. Crandall, Mr. Kirkpatrick, and Mr. Harrison fighting amongst themselves? Or was there another person involved?” Ms. Johnson asked.
“There was another man. He was already in the store,” Mr. Sok said.
“Describe this man, the one who got into an altercation with the defendant and his friends.”
“He was older. He lives in the woods, I think. Sometimes he comes in and buys food.”
Ms. Johnson tipped her head to the side. “So you’ve seen this man before?”
“Yes.”
“Has this man, to your knowledge, ever caused an altercation with anyone in the park before?”
“No.” Mr. Sok made a decisive shake of his head. “He doesn’t interact with anyone.”
Ms. Johnson nodded like she hung on Mr. Sok’s every word. “What started the altercation? Do you know?”
“Chips.”
“Chips?” She blinked largely, her eyebrows went up and her voice was a little too high. “Describe the incident, please.”
Chapter Seventeen
THEN…
IN THE FOREST
Istood at the edge of Skeleton Lake. The water kissed the rubber that covered the toes of my boots washing off the thick dust that had settled there. I threw a rock, pulling my arm back and letting it swing forward hard, feeling the burn along my tricep. The rock broke the glassy surface, creating rings that rippled outward in the moonlight. It was quiet here, peaceful, too bad I couldn’t relax.
I’d walked away from the campsite after dinner in order to clear my head. Being around the others hyped my anxiety to uncontrollable levels. It was difficult to silence the voices on the best of days. Almost impossible after a day full of nonstop stress. Watching Liam with Zoe was the very definition of stressful.
The only good thing that had happened was the silent truce that had fallen into place after our clash with Grizzly Man. We were sick of each other’s company. Our group had been fraying at the seams before the hike. Now, a day into our adventure, the cracks were coming apart. At this point we were all steadfastly ignoring each other. That was fine with me. If I was lucky, we’d continue the rest of the trip in silence.
Shivering into my thin hoody, I slowly picked my way across the icy ground that edged the perimeter of the lake heading back to camp. I should have brought a thicker jacket. I hadn’t realized there’d still be patches of snow this late in the year. My fingers and toes were numb and my chest ached. I pulled the hood over my head and stuck my hands into my pockets, hunching my body forward to make myself a smaller target as the wind whipped around me.
Fire crackled in the center of camp when I got back. No one had moved since I’d left. Liam and Zoe sat together to one side of it and Parker lay spread out on the other. No one looked up or greeted me as I entered the ring of light.
I ignored them. Taking the water I’d collected from the lake, I poured it into the tub we used to clean dishes. No one had actually put the plates and utensils inside while I was gone. They lay scattered on the ground. I began to gather them, throwing them into the tub, making a loud job of it.
Liam looked up and our gazes caught. His expression was raw and open, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen in weeks. The longing in his gaze cut me, making me suck in a breath.
Warmth burned my hands and face. I flushed from the want and uncertainty. It also made me angry. He’d been the one to start this, not me. The way he toyed with my head was sick. I looked away, shaking off the lingering nostalgia, refusing to let Liam twist me up like this.
In the last few months he’d changed. He’d become a stranger and had broken his loyalty to me, something that I’d never thought would happen. He’d sworn that no matter what, we’d never get to the place we were at now. Mostly I felt frustration that I couldn’t have our friendship back. It was tainted now by what we’d become.
Zoe hadn’t noticed what had passed between us. She continued to look into the fire, throwing smaller sticks into the center.
But Parker had. His eyebrows were raised and his mouth twisted with a smirk. More and more I got the feeling that Parker understood the subtext between Liam and me. And that he wanted it to come to a head in some kind of epic explosion.
“Let’s go into the tent.” Zoe said to Liam. She ran her fingertips up and down the zipper of his jacket.
Liam hesitated and looked at me again. Whatever was on my face must have spurred him into action because he leaned into her, reaching forward to slide his hands into the bottom of her shirt. “Let’s go.”
I noticed that he didn’t call her “baby” like he did whenever he wanted to get in my pants. And that at least made me feel fractionally less irritated.
Zoe giggled before smashing their mouths together for a quick kiss. When they finally stopped sucking face, she went to unzip their tent flap.
Liam speared me with one final narrowed-eyed glance. His face was flat, void of the emotion I’d seen earlier. Then he blinked, and just like that a smile appeared. It was false and brittle, not meant to convince me at all. Then he winked before he entered the tent after Zoe.
“What was that about?” Parker asked after a moment.
I vigorously scraped a plate, keeping my back to him. “Hell if I know.”
Liam had gotten sloppy. Or more likely, had purposely exposed what should be our secret. I hadn’t given into him before, and I refused to act crazy jealous about Zoe even if that was exactly how I felt. It had to irritate him, so I was sure that he was determined to make me hurt.
“Uh, huh.” Parker let out a disbelieving snort.
I turned to him still gripping the plate hard. Suds dripped from my hand. “You got something to say? Because you need to shut up before I shove my fist down your throat.”
Parker held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just pointing out that you’re both acting weird.”
A low moan filled the air, closely followed by slapping flesh coming from behind the thin barrier of the tent. Zoe began to chant gasps of “God,” “more,” and “Liam.” It was fake and over the top, all designed to make me lose my shit.
I threw the dish into the bucket. As far as I was concerned, Zoe could finish them before we left in the morning. Hopefully the water would be iced over and her hands would freeze.
As I walked away from the campsite, I pulled out my phone and began scrolling through my picture app. There were no bars of course, we hadn’t had service all day and I only had five percent battery left. Sadness made me ache as I looked at pictures of Liam and I. It was an obsession, my dwelling on the past. I didn’t know why I felt the need to constantly rub salt into the wound.
The pictures covered our entire relationship. From the first moments of friendships we’d nurtured during our community service. There were snapshots of us messing around on the side of the road while we were supposed to be picking up trash. We were both dressed in bright orange vests and grinning like idiots. And another set of pictures when we’d painted over graffiti downtown.
There were the big things, times when we’d gone to concerts or parties, and quieter moments when it was just him and I hanging out. Where we did nothing but eat popcorn while watching Netflix, or gorge ourselves on Costco taquitos. Looking at them now, these pieces of our scattered life didn’t seem real anymore. It felt like they were someone else’s memories.
In that small window of time, he had become the only person I could trust. We had been so good together. Happy even, though I’m not quite sure I knew what happiness was.
Eventually I’d realized that I could never be the person he needed, that I would always fail him. The understanding that we’d eventually break up had become inevitable in my mind. So when it finally happened, I consoled myself with the knowledge that things were exactly as they should be.
Maybe I wouldn’t hate him so much now if I didn’t love him in equal measure. Though I probably hated myself more. Loving him compromised me and I’d allowed it to happen. It made me unable to recover from his betrayal and his relationship with Zoe.
Shoes crunched behind me, alerting me that Parker had followed. I clicked off my phone and tucked it into my pocket. And then turned as he closed the distance.
I wanted to tell him to go away. But I wasn’t in control enough to make words work.
When he stepped up beside me, Parker pulled out a joint and lit it. He held it out. “Here.”
I took it, surprised he was offering from his own stash.
“I have pills too, if you need that. Can’t do this thing sober. Especially with those two.”
I agreed with him, but Liam and Zoe weren’t the only two I was mad at. I was angry at Parker too. Reminding me of the pills probably wasn’t the best idea. “You have my pills.” My mom’s prescription, if we wanted to get technical about it.
“My pills… your pills… what does it matter?” Parker asked with a shrug. He plucked the joint from my frozen fingers and took a hit.
“It matters because you’re always taking my drugs on credit. I’m not a free pharmacy. When are you gonna give me my money?”
“I told you I’d pay you as soon as I can.”
I spoke over him, not at all impressed. “In the meantime, you keep stealing from me.”
“Stealing?” he laughed.
“If you take them and use them, and don’t pay me for it, what do you call it? It’s stealing. How am I supposed to believe that you’ll pay me back when you haven’t given me a dime?”
No dealer would allow that shit. Not that I was the dealer, Parker was. Which was precisely why Parker used me as his source. He’d have something broken by now if it were someone else.
Parker took another hit, then ran his hand through his hair. “I need to talk to you about my supply. What I have with me is the last of my stash. I need more inventory. I’ll sell it and you can take my cut.”
“What did you do with the other shit I gave you?” I couldn’t believe he had the balls to ask me for more. Yet, I wasn’t surprised. Parker was dumb and completely irresponsible.
He hesitated. “I’m not sure where it went.”
“You’re kidding me,” I said in disbelief. “If you’re selling it and keeping the profit, I’ll kill you.”
“I’m not keeping any money from you. Calm down.”
“You’re gonna get caught and then they’re going to link me with all the other stupid stuff you’re doing. I don’t need that. Get me my money and we’re through.”
Parker finished the joint and pinched off the end. “You worry too much. Besides, you can’t get rid of me. We’re best friends, remember?”
Chapter Eighteen
NOW…
Detective Sanchez walked through the gallery with his spine straight and his chest puffed out. The room quieted as he took the witness stand. He had the kind of presence that demanded believability and oozed authority. The entire room waited with anticipation.
I wanted to roll my eyes.
He sat back in the witness box, watching the jury while he stroked his synthetic tie, the look on his face polite and professional. He’d freshly buzzed his head making his bushy mustache appear overgrown. His court suit was more workingman’s chic than fashionable, at odds with the aura of confidence he projected.
Ms. Johnson stepped up to the podium. “Detective Sanchez, you were the lead detective in this case, correct?”
“Correct,” Sanchez agreed, his voice deeper, like a bigger version of himself.
“How did you come to be involved with the investigation?” Ms. Johnson asked.
“It originally started off as a missing persons case. I was brought on when it became a homicide.”
“Were you on the scene when the bodies of Mr. Crandall, Miss Adler, and Mr. Kirkpatrick were discovered?”
“Correct,” Sanchez said. “Mr. Kirkpatrick was located with the defendant, still alive at the time. It was evident that the situation was quickly changing pace to a homicide, so I was brought on prior to the discovery of the others.”
Ms. Johnson nodded, following along with his testimony. Her body language was open, agreeing with Sanchez. Leading him down the path she’d created for the jury. “Let’s go back a moment, Detective Sanchez. Please bring us up to speed on how your department first heard about the missing teenagers.”
Sanchez sat forward like he was about to tell a story. He turned directly to the jury, a pandering move that was so obvious I wondered how the jury could think it was genuine. “The parents of Liam Kirkpatrick called the ranger station to alert authorities that the teens were a day late checking in. A search party was quickly put into place. I arrived soon after.”
“Did the park know there were missing hikers prior to the Kirkpatricks’ phone call?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Ms. Johnson asked.
“It’s not required to leave a hiking itinerary with the rangers. Though it’s suggested and in a hiker’s best interest in case of accidents.”
“Did the teens check in prior to their hike?” she asked.
Sanchez looked directly at me. “They did not.”
He blamed me, like it was my fault we didn’t check in with the ranger. Just because I was the only one still alive didn’t mean that I had been in charge of the trip details. I hadn't even known we were supposed to check in with them.
And I doubted Liam had either, for all his insistence that he’d known what he was doing. Liam skipping out on safety procedures was laughable. He was such a Boy Scout. There was no way he'd purposely put us in danger. It didn’t matter. Once again, Liam’s decisions were biting me in the ass.
The insinuations and covert looks highlighted the injustice. This trial was a parade of people who blamed every circumstance on me, whether or not I had any choice in the situations. Sitting and listening without being able to deny the charges was a slow form of torture. Much worse than I’d anticipated, in spite of Mr. Dawson’s assurances that we’d get our turn to make a case.
“Originally the call went out to find four missing persons?” Ms. Johnson asked Detective Sanchez, continuing on with her line of questioning.
“Correct.”
“Then Mr. Harrison was located with Mr. Kirkpatrick, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mr. Harrison provide you with the locations of Mr. Crandall and Miss Adler?”
The corner of Sanchez’s lip rose in disgust. “Mr. Harrison couldn’t remember where Mr. Crandall and Miss Adler had been left.”
“Couldn’t remember?” Ms. Johnson repeated.
“He gave vague directions to areas where we eventually located and recovered their bodies.” He answered in a way that had doubt dripping from every word.
We’d run for days through that forest; there was no way to remember. Especially getting twisted in the dark while hiding. One tree looked like all the others after a while. I’d dare any of them to give accurate directions in the same circumstances.
“What made you suspect Mr. Harrison was responsible for the deaths?” Ms. Johnson asked.
“There were pieces of Mr. Harrison found at every scene.”
“How do you mean?”
“Mr. Harrison admitted to marking the tree near where Mr. Crandall was found. We theorize that it was part of the plot when he separated the group and made his move to kill Mr. Crandall. His shoe prints were found near the top of the ravine near Miss Adler’s body. And he was found covered in Mr. Kirkpatrick’s blood.”
Of course my DNA and everything else was all over the place. I’d been in the forest with them. It was conceivable that I’d left evidence at every scene. It didn’t mean I’d killed them. I had perfectly good explanations for each of those situations. How was it legal that Detective Sanchez could sit up there and twist everything to fit the narrative that he wanted to tell? He didn’t have any firsthand knowledge. This was 100 percent supposition. From the beginning he’d refused to consider any other suspects.
Next to me, Dawson sat with his shoulders tense and his fingers ticking.
I wanted to kick him. He should be standing up and objecting to this nonsense. The jury were lemmings, capable of believing anything.
“What else led you to investigate Mr. Harrison as a suspect?”
“During our initial interview he acted suspicious,” Sanchez added.
“What made you suspicious?”
“He had a distinct lack of emotion.”
“Describe that.”
Sanchez cleared his throat. “During our interview he was evasive, unhelpful with his answers, and generally didn’t seem interested in helping us understand what had happened. Plus, there weren’t any tears.”
I growled under my breath. They were going to dissect every little nuance of my life. They hadn’t lived it. Didn’t know anything about me.
My friends had just died. How was I supposed to act? How was anyone supposed to act? It was easy to say what a person would do in theory, but the reality was far different. I hadn’t been unemotional, I’d been numb, not wanting to feel. If I’d thawed for even a second, the pain would have crippled me.
