Page 72 of Middle of the Night

“I just wanted to look around.”

Ragesh sees right through the lie. Not that it takes a detective to do so. It’s clear I was up to something. “For what?”

I don’t know because Billy didn’t tell me. Since I doubt Ragesh will believe that one, I choose a more logical response. “Any sign that the Hawthorne Institute had something to do with Billy’s death.”

“We already went over this, Ethan. There’s likely—”

“No connection? So everyone says. But how am I supposed to believe that when no one will tell me what went on here? Even though you know at least some of it.”

Ragesh starts the car. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You volunteered here in 1992,” I say, gesturing past the windshield to the stone mansion looming before us. “You and Johnny.”

“Where did you hear that?” Ragesh says, either annoyed or impressed that I know. I can’t quite tell.

“Let’s just say I’ve been doing some research. So I suggest we cut the crap and tell each other what we know.”

Ragesh appears to consider it as he steers the car away from the Hawthorne mansion and down a narrow drive. Up ahead is the stone wall and, to my delight, an open gate. At least I got one thing right today.

“Okay, deal,” Ragesh says once we’re past the gate. “Let’s put all our cards on the table. Quid pro quo. Why are you so adamant that Billy’s murder is somehow tied to the Hawthorne Institute?”

“Because that’s where he was found.”

“And I already told you that if you’re trying to dispose of a body, that’s as good a place as any.”

“But we were there that day,” I say, even though Ragesh doesn’t need reminding. “Billy longer than the rest of us.”

“Did he ever mention what happened then?”

“No,” I say, still too ashamed to tell Ragesh about the argument Billy and I had in the tent that night and how I wish I could take back every word I said. If Billy had revealed any details about earlier in the day, I would share them. But he didn’t. The only thing Billy made clear was how much I had betrayed him.

“Okay,” Ragesh says. “Your turn. Ask me anything.”

I’m at a loss as to where to start. There are so many questions I want answered. Eventually, I opt with one that’s bothered me since Ragesh told us Billy’s remains had been found.

“The other night, you said you knew Billy’s death wasn’t an accident because there was evidence of foul play. What kind of evidence?”

“There were fractures on Billy’s ribs and skull,” Ragesh says. “Basedon the damage, the forensic anthropologist thinks it’s likely he died from blunt force trauma to the chest and head.”

He pauses, checking to see if I’m okay. I’m far from it. The whole car seems to quake. Like it’s just been rear-ended, even though there are no other vehicles around.

“While it’s possible his injuries were caused by a fall, it’s also unlikely,” Ragesh continues.

“Why?”

“Divers found a piece of fabric in the mud with Billy’s remains. Like he had been wrapped in a blanket or something before he was thrown over the falls.”

I feel another quake. Worse than the first one. Because I now doubt that Billy’s death was quick and painless. It was likely the opposite, a fact that leaves me momentarily speechless.

Ragesh gives me a sympathetic look. “Sorry you asked?”

Yes.

And no.

Because the way I see it, the likely nature of Billy’s murder eliminates a bunch of suspects, chiefly everyone on Hemlock Circle. No, I haven’t forgotten Detective Cassandra Palmer’s theory about why Billy didn’t scream or call for help. I just continue to disagree with it. Because I can’t imagine how someone who knew Billy could do that to him. Which means his killer wasn’t from the cul-de-sac.

“Tell me what you know about the Hawthorne Institute,” I say.

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