Page 32 of What Have You Done?

‘Okay, thank you. That will be all, for now.’ Detective Stone rises and hands him a card. ‘If you think of anything useful, please get in touch.’

Brad takes the card. ‘I will.’

As he leaves the police station, his relief is immense.

Joe Prior parks his truck in the parking lot of the 7-Eleven. He’s driven a little over an hour to get here. He knows Josie will be here today – she always works Saturdays. Joe has been watching her for a while. He likes to spread them out. Josie here in Littleton, which is over the state line in New Hampshire. Kayla in Magog, in the Eastern Townships of Quebec. He does a lot of driving. But that’s okay, he likes driving his truck, uses the time to think, to go over his fantasies in his mind.

He gets out of the truck and walks casually into the store. He knows where the cameras are and stays out of view as best he can. He must be extra careful now. He’s got a baseball cap pulled low, and the collar of his jacket pulled up. He lingers in the back corner looking at snack foods as someone finishes a purchase up at the front. He watches Josie furtively, enjoying the curve of her cheek, the fall of her light brown hair, the shape of her breasts beneath her T-shirt.

The customer passes him on her way out the door and the bell tinkles as she leaves. Joe continues to survey items as he slowly walks down the aisle. He’s not going to buy anything; he’s just looking.

The bell on the door tinkles again. A man has come in with his little boy. The shrill chatter of the child carries across the store. Joe hates children.

It ruins it for him, and he walks out, the child’s irritating patter following Joe until the door closes behind him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

RILEY IS SITTING listlessly with Evan at a picnic table in the little park in the centre of town after their visit to Mrs Brewer. It’s Saturday afternoon, cold but sunny. It was awful seeing Diana’s mother that way. Her daughter’s death has broken her, and Riley could hardly bear to look at her. She’d spent a lot of time at the Brewers’ house over the years – at playdates when they were children, and for sleepovers all through high school – and now she thinks of how empty that house will be. Her heart breaks for Mrs Brewer. She has nothing left.

Riley feels tears building again and looks away from Evan, at the swings. She thinks anxiously about what Diana’s mother told them – what her neighbour saw the night Diana was killed. Eventually she turns to Evan and asks, ‘Do you think it was Cameron sitting outside the house in his truck that night?’ She felt he’d been lying to her.

‘But Mrs Brewer said Joe Prior has a truck too,’ Evan says. ‘And the police think his alibi is weak. It could have been him.’

‘So it could have been either one of them,’ she says. ‘Or anybody else.’ After a minute she adds bitterly, ‘You know what makes me mad? That the neighbour didn’t call the police. Maybe if she had, Diana would still be alive. I’m with Mrs Brewer on that one.’

They fall silent again, sitting dismally at the picnic table. Then Evan says, ‘I’ve been thinking. I’d like to put up a memorial, maybe a simple white wooden cross, at the side of the field where she was found. My dad should have supplies at home.’

Riley nods. ‘That’s a nice idea. I’ll help you.’

Riley accompanies Evan back to his house, and he takes her into his dad’s unused work shed in the backyard. There’s all kinds of tools and scraps of wood in there. Evan soon finds a couple of pieces that will work. He grabs a hammer and some nails and constructs a simple cross, about five feet high, two across.

‘I think we’ve got some white paint left over around here somewhere,’ Evan says, studying his handiwork. ‘Maybe we should put it up first and paint it when it’s standing in the ground, it’ll be easier. And then we won’t have to wait for it to dry before we put it up. I’ll just ask my mom if I can use her car, ’kay?’

He leaves her there in the shed while he goes inside. It’s cold, but she’s not offended that he didn’t invite her into the house. It’s Saturday afternoon and she knows Evan’s dad is probably far into the booze by now. He doesn’t talk about it much, but she knows how much it bothers Evan. She looks down at the cross lying on the floor. She can’t believe that on Thursday evening Diana was alive, and not even two days later, Riley is here in Evan’s shed, staring at this cross. For a moment she feels dizzy, as if the world has spun too fast, and she can’t keep up.

Evan returns, with permission to use the car, and they load the cross, angling it between the front seats. Evan puts an old can of white paint, a paintbrush, and a screwdriver and hammer to open the paint can with into the spacious trunk of his mother’s car. He throws in a plastic bag to put the dirty brush and paint can in when they’re done, and a spade.

Riley climbs into the car with a heavy heart. As Evan drives them through the little town, she makes him stop at the florist. It’s the same florist they went to earlier that day for Mrs Brewer’s flowers. It’s the only one in town. ‘We should get some flowers for her,’ she says. She leaves him in the car and runs into the shop. She chooses two small bouquets – one of white lilies and another of pink gerbera daisies. She returns to the car. ‘I got one from each of us.’

Riley feels an increasing sense of disquiet as Evan takes the rural roads that will lead them to the field. She hasn’t seen it yet, except in photographs, but everyone knows where Diana was found. They know where the Resslers’ farm is.

As Evan drives down the gravel road toward the farm, they spot traces of yellow police tape flapping in the breeze along the fence line. He stops the car at the side of the road, and they slowly get out. They stand together, side by side at the entrance to the field, staring out at it. Riley recognizes the open green gate from the photos she saw in the news, but the white tent that stood over Diana’s dead body is now gone, so they don’t know exactly where she was found. Riley feels an involuntary shudder, something animal and instinctual. She imagines it, some murderer – probably the man sitting outside Diana’s house in his truck – carrying her friend across this field in the dark, probably already dead. She can see it all too clearly, everything except the killer’s face. She forces herself to stop.

She watches Evan put up the cross between the edge of the road and the wooden fence, next to the entrance to the field. They can’t put it up in the field because it’s private property, and it’s farmed. When the cross is sturdily in place, Riley silently takes the paintbrush from Evan. She paints the cross reverently, tenderly, in long strokes, almost as if she’s touching Diana, brushing out her long hair. When she is finished, Riley lays the two bouquets of flowers gently at the base of it. She whispers, ‘I miss you so much, Diana,’ wiping away tears.

Evan takes her hand in his and adds, ‘They’ll find out who did this to you, Diana. I promise.’

I watch them, Riley and Evan, putting up the cross, painting it a fresh white. It stands out so sharply against the natural background. Riley and Evan – I would trust them with my life.

I’m afraid, though, that I was wrong to trust Cameron. Cameron might have put me here, floating on the fringes, in this sort of half life, watching people who love me grieve. I’m grieving too, for all I’ve lost.

So much is missing … whole chunks of my memory gone. I hope they find out who did this to me, because I’m not sure I’ll ever remember on my own.

Edward is notified by text when Cameron’s attorney finally arrives at the police station on Saturday afternoon.

‘He’s here,’ he says to his wife and son, who have been sitting in this interview room for what feels like a lifetime, while they waited for the attorney. ‘I’ll go talk to him,’ Edward says, standing up.

‘I’ll come too,’ Shelby says.

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