Page 78 of What Lies in the Woods

No. She’d told me she watched the whole thing. She couldn’t have failed to recognize her own brother, which meant that if Oscar had attacked me, she’d lied. Lied to Dougherty, lied on the stand, lied to my face, only days ago.

“Naomi?” Ethan asked. I’d been staring out into the distance for over a minute, and my hand was shaking. I tightened it into a fist. Ethan looked at me, his expression open and guileless.

I didn’t want him talking to Oscar. I didn’t want him finding out thethings I’d done or the things that had happened to me. But I couldn’t avoid talking to Oscar any longer.

“I’m starving,” I said. “Any chance you could go pick us up some lunch?”

“Or we could go sit down like civilized folk,” he suggested.

I shook my head. “I’m beat. You go, I’ll lie down for a bit until you get back.”

“Sure,” Ethan said. He hesitated like maybe he sensed something, but he got back in the car. I stood with my hands in my back pockets, watching him pull out. I waited until he was out of sight before I walked over to my car.

The Chester Lumber Company was a ghost of its former self. With the mill shut down, all that was left was a muddy lot filled with trucks and equipment—skidders, loaders, woodchippers that could handle a small elephant. The offices were single-wides on blocks.

Big Jim was out in front of the offices, talking to a grizzled strip of a man with a graying ponytail and stubble you could grate cheese with. The guy gave Jim a nod and headed into the office as I approached.

Big Jim came by his name honestly. He was where Oscar had gotten his massive frame and squared-off features. He loomed literally as well as figuratively in Chester. He’d been mayor for twenty-eight years, and the only person who’d ever come close to unseating him was Clark Jensen, who’d carried three wounded fellow soldiers through a hail of gunfire and still lost the election by six points.

I’d never been sure where I stood with Jim. He didn’t like me, but he didn’tdislikeme either, as far as I could tell. Every time I’d talked to him growing up, he’d seemed surprised, like he hadn’t noticed I was there. After the attack he’d pulled strings to make sure I got taken care of. He’d even given me a summer job once, filing paperwork in the office. It was mostly code for keeping the pencils sharpened and filling the candy dish, and I’d still managed to fuck it up spectacularly.

He didn’t seem to hold it against me. But then, he didn’t hire me again either. Now he offered a furrowed brow and a grunt of greeting.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, like I was any customer waltzing up.

“I’m looking for Oscar,” I said.

“What do you need him for?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously. As if I was the bad influence Oscar needed protecting from.

“To see what he remembers about a girl named Jessi Walker,” I said. Jim’s face transformed from faint puzzlement to complete confusion.

“What’s she got to do with you?” he asked.

“You knew her?” It made sense, if she’d spent time with Oscar; he’d been living at home.

“In passing,” Jim said, shrugging. He scratched the back of his broad knuckles.

“That’s what I need to talk to Oscar about. I know they were friends. I’m just trying to put together a picture of her time in Chester and figure out where she was heading when she left,” I said. “I won’t take too much of his time.”

“Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it in Jessi Walker,” Jim said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, bristling.

He rested a hand on his hip and shook his head almost regretfully. “That girl was a walking disaster. She had a half dozen guys wrapped around her finger thinking they loved her. Oscar just about lost his damn mind over her. Fractured a guy’s wrist for pinching her ass in the diner, but she wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

“He commits assault and she’s supposed to drop her panties?” I asked. Jim scowled at me. Interesting that he didn’t know they’d hooked up—or maybe it wasn’t. Jim wasn’t the kind of guy to keep a close watch on his son’s love life.

“Look, I’m just telling you the girl liked drama. She made bad decisions and laughed about them. Everything was a game to her.” He said it all in a matter-of-fact tone, like he was reporting on nothing more fraught than the weather. “That kind of girl doesn’t end up with a happily ever after.”

“I don’t think she got one,” I said. I watched his expression, feeling that familiar sense of not knowing where I stood. He’d had an abysmalopinion of Jessi Walker, that was clear. Yet there wasn’t a trace of anger or hatred in his voice. It was like he didn’t care at all. That was the way he’d always seemed to me—disconnected. Everyone else seemed to know this affable, charismatic man, but for me it had always felt like talking to a plank of wood, whatever the subject. It was like a milder version of Oscar—I didn’t get to see the charm, because I wasn’t worth the trouble of putting on a show.

He grunted, done with the conversation. “Oscar’s out back. Don’t take too much of his time.”

With that, he turned and headed into the office. I stood there, teeth clenched. Plenty of people would put me in the category “that kind of girl.” The only reason my life wasn’t a mess of drama was that I packed up and left everything behind every time things got hairy.

I finally understood why I’d never been able to figure out how Jim felt about me. It was the same reason he could say all those things about Jessi Walker without the faintest flicker of emotion. She was beneath caring about. And so was I. He’d done the necessary steps to fulfill his obligations and play his part—mayor, best friend’s father, charitable member of society. And that was it. Except for the moments I intersected with some task he needed to complete, I didn’t even exist to him.

Oscar was across the lot when I came around the back of the offices, wiping his hands on a greasy rag, a toolbox open beside him. He looked over and saw me as I approached, but he didn’t move. Waited for me to come to him.

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