“So like a ghost story?” Burke almost looks amused.
Ellie clears her throat. “The property where Kacey found the blood,” she explains. “There was a house there in the thirties. A family was killed—the story is that the wife walks up and down Sparrow Road at night. Covered in blood.”
Burke’s forehead creases. “So this girl—Chloe—she says she saw a bloody ghost?”
I pull my sleeves down over my hands. “Like I said, she’s always making stuff up.”
“But you still wanted to check things out for yourself,” Burke says. “It’s why you went up to the barn yesterday, right? Curiosity.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Burke is staring at my hands, at the way my thermal shirtsleeves are stretched over them. I let go and set my hands on the table. “Bailey is my friend. I’m worried sick about her. I heard something weird, so I got curious.”
“Okay, fair enough. Were you at the vigil last night?”
I hesitate. “No. I couldn’t go.”
“Really.” Burke blinks, taken aback.
“I had a panic attack or something. I couldn’t get dressed.”
“A panic attack?”
“After I got home—from seeing the blood in the barn, everyone was badgering me, asking me stuff, and I just freaked out, I guess.”
Ellie gives a sympathetic nod.
Burke scratches his temple with his pen. “So you were too nervous to attend the vigil?”
“What?” I look from Burke to Ellie. “No. I just—I helped look for Bailey in the storm on Monday. I was actually out there doing something. Sorry if I didn’t think standing around holding a candle would make a difference in finding her.”
I can feel it: the red splotches coming to my face. The tightness in my throat from trying not to cry. A tear slips out anyway. Ellie produces a box of tissues and clears her throat again. “Detective—I think maybe here’s a good place to break for the day.”
Burke’s eyes are on me. “That seems like a good idea.”
I’m wiping my face with one of the tissues when Ellie rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll go call your stepmom, ’kay? Let’s take a walk outta here. Get some air.”
I let her put her arm around me, herd me back to the waiting area. I feel Burke watching me the whole time, and that’s when I remember the pendulum from the séance, still in the pocket of my jacket.
CHAPTER TWELVE
In the parking lot, I can tell that Ashley is desperate to ask me what happened inside that interview room. A quick glance in the side mirror of the SUV shows I’m white as a sheet. At best, Burke thinks I’m some sort of rubbernecker, showing up at crime scenes.
Worst, he actually thinks I know what happened to Bailey. That I was involved somehow.
Ashley makes a right toward Main Street when we leave the sheriff’s station, though, and not a left toward home.
“I’ve got to run into the drugstore and get Lauren something to help her sleep,” Ashley explains. “You don’t mind, do you?”
I’m quiet. I should tell her about the sleepwalking and Lauren wanting to stay in my room, but I’m positive of what will happen: Ashley will eventually break Lauren down, get her to admit to what we did the other night.
Ashley’s fingers find mine, atop my knee, and squeeze. “Oh, hon, I’m so sorry. I’m such a horse’s ass, asking you to go in there.”
Friendly Drugs. She thinks I’m quiet because of the thought of going into Bailey’s workplace and being reminded of her.
When your friend is missing, it’s not something you need to be reminded of. Bailey’s absence is my new state of mind.
We pull up to Friendly Drugs and I follow Ashley to the back of the store, to the pharmacy. Tyrell is behind the counter, wearing a white lab coat in lieu of the navy Friendly Drugs polo. He looks somewhat embarrassed by it.
“Nice coat,” I say, while Ashley pokes around in the aisle. “You get a promotion?”
“I’m eighteen, so I’m allowed to work back here now.” Tyrell pauses. “Have you heard anything?”
“Nah. We just left her house. Her mom’s a wreck. What about you?”
Tyrell glances down the aisle. I follow his gaze. There’s no one but Ashley, browsing the cold medications and sleep aids.
“I heard they’re close to ruling Cliff out,” Tyrell says. “His dad gave him an alibi. Said he was home and in bed before midnight.”
So that’s why they let him go from the station earlier. If Cliff fought with Bridget, left the party, and went home, there’s no way he had time to follow Bailey, kill her, and get rid of her body. “Do you think his dad’s lying for him?”
Tyrell’s upper lip goes flat. He looks around the store to make sure no one’s listening to us. “Don’t repeat this, because I don’t want him coming over here and accusing me of shit. But there’s a rumor going around that Cliff’s dad was at the Tap Room until closing time Saturday.”
“So the alibi is bullshit.”
Tyrell holds up a finger. Gestures: Shhh. “Like I said. It’s a rumor. I don’t know for sure.”
Ty’s voice trails off as Ashley comes up to the counter, empty-handed. “Ty. Andrew didn’t tell me you were working back here. I’ll have to tell Russ. He’ll be so proud.”
Tyrell wants to work in a hospital pharmacy someday, like my father. He got into Madison’s pharmacy school, early admission. Six years of school, and he’ll be a doctor. I envy people like him, who just know what they want to do.
“What can I help you guys with?” Tyrell asks, blush creeping into his cheeks.
“Lauren’s having trouble sleeping,” Ashley says. “Do you have anything stronger than Benadryl behind the counter?”
Tyrell disappears as an older technician—a woman with a smoothed blowout—comes forward. Sticks a pen in the pocket of her lab coat. “Is that Ashley Markham?”
“It is.” Ashley cringes. I don’t know the woman. Her name tag says DEB.
Apparently she knows me—or of me—because she clucks and grabs my hand, her words coming out rapid-fire. “You poor thing. You’re friends with her. You must be in pieces. I barely knew her—she works up front—but it feels downright scary, her being gone.”
I pull my hand back. Ashley puts a protective arm around my shoulders. “You know, we could absolutely use your help this week,” she says. “The sheriff’s office is putting together a volunteer search. I’m putting together boxed lunches.”
“Oh, bless your heart, Ashley Markham. You just name the place and I’ll be there.”
Tyrell comes up to the counter, setting down a box of NyQuil next to Deb’s hand. He catches my gaze and rolls his eyes. Deb holds the scanner gun over the box of meds and gives a whole-body shudder. “You just don’t think of things like this happening here.”
Whenever people say that, are they forgetting about the Leeds family? “Yes.” I nod in agreement while Ashley signs the book promising she won’t make the NyQuil into meth. Deb is staring at me.