His embrace was the first real human contact she'd had in two months, and it threatened to unravel the tight control she had managed to maintain over her emotions. When he pulled away, Brook awkwardly swiped at her cheeks, annoyed at the betrayal of tears she hadn't permitted to fall until now.
Scotty parted his lips, then closed them again, searching for words that wouldn't come.
“It's okay,” Brook said quietly, her voice steadier than she thought it would be. “No one ever seems to know what to say, not that they come near me if they can avoid it.”
“I just...I was in town, visiting my parents.” Scotty hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “I wanted to see how you were doing, but I couldn’t bring myself to ring the doorbell.”
Around them, the neighborhood carried on its summer routine with deliberate normalcy. Sprinklers rotated over meticulously maintained lawns, and children's bikes lay abandoned in driveways. But the curtains of the houses facing the Walsh residence remained drawn, as if Jacob's evil might somehow seep through the glass and contaminate those inside.
The weight of judgment hung in the air as tangibly as the summer humidity. It pressed against her skin, the collective gaze of a community that couldn't separate her from her brother's crimes. In the six weeks since Jacob's arrest, not a single neighbor had knocked on their door or called to check on them.
And really, should she be exonerated?
She’d known something was wrong with Jacob for a very long time. She just couldn’t admit to herself the extent of his cruelty.
“How are your folks holding up?” Scotty asked, his gaze darting toward the house, which had now become somewhat of a prison cell.
“They're not,” Brook replied as she crossed her arms. Not even the humidity was enough to warm her skin. “Mom barely leaves their room. Dad just...sits. It's like they've both stopped existing.”
Scotty didn’t seem to know what else to say, so she continued to speak, not wanting him to leave just yet. It was nice to have someone who understood the dynamics of what had taken place.
"We don't talk about it. We don't talk about anything,” Brook admitted before scanning the street. “Walk with me? I’ve been packing all morning, and I could use some fresh air.”
“I still can't wrap my mind around it,” Scotty admitted, falling into step beside her. “Mom called me with the news when it happened, and it just doesn't seem real, you know? What actually happened that day, Brook? I've heard so many different versions.”
She fixed her gaze on the sidewalk ahead, counting the concrete squares passing beneath her feet. When she finally spoke, she did her best to remain detached, as if she were recounting events from a documentary rather than the most traumatic day of her life.
“I was running late for Aaron Herring's graduation party. As I drove past the backside of the cornfield used for the maze this year, I thought I saw Jacob disappear through the stalks. Only Sally was with him. I turned around, parked the car on the side of the road, and went looking for them. I mean, Sally didn’t even like Jacob. It didn’t make sense that they were together that day.”
The cicadas buzzed in the trees lining the street, their incessant drone creating a surreal soundtrack to her narrative. Brook continued, her pace steady, her eyes forward.
“I walked pretty far into the cornfield, but I couldn’t find them. I almost gave up and went back to the car, but I thought I heard someone. I just knew something was wrong. When I finally found them, Sally was already on the ground.” Brook struggled to swallow. “I remember staring at her blue sandals. She wore them that day because they matched her shirt. She was so happy, Scotty, and he just…”
Brook’s throat closed, and she had to stop talking for most of the walk until they were on the other side of the block. Once she’d collected herself and could breathe a little easier, she was able to finish.
“There was nothing left of her face, Scotty. Nothing. And Jacob was standing there with a knife in his hand, calm as could be. He was saying how much Sally reminded him of Pamela, and how they thought their lives were perfect. Too perfect. The police questioned me over and over again about what he said to me that day, but my mind only replays his last words to me before he walked away.”
Brook shook violently now, despite her belief that she’d be able to get through the retelling of events unscathed. Her best friend was dead, and the pain of losing her was almost too much to bear. Scotty waited until they had turned the final corner to break the silence.
“What did Jacob say to you?”
“He told me that I didn’t get to be the normal one.”
“Are you serious? Brook, what did the police say?” Scotty searched the area, as if expecting to see a police cruiser parked outside her house. “Are you in danger?”
“The police don’t think so,” Brook replied in an almost monotone voice, understanding how they had come to that conclusion. Jacob could have easily killed her six weeks ago, but he’d chosen to leave her behind to suffer in his absence. “I don’t think so, either. It was almost as if he wanted me to live with my sin.”
“Your sin?”
“I knew something was wrong with him. Didn’t you?”
Brook hadn’t meant for her question to come out so accusatory. But she’d also spent the last six weeks obsessing over every little detail that she could remember from her childhood. From when Jacob stopped watching cartoons with her, drawing with her, or playing games. She couldn’t accept that there wasn’t a reason he had turned into such a monster.
“I guess so,” Scotty replied reluctantly as they both slowed their pace. “I mean, after middle school, he changed. Stopped hanging out with me and Daryll. He didn’t even acknowledge us by the time high school came around.”
Brook experienced a flash of irrational anger.
If Scotty had sensed something was wrong, why hadn't he said anything? Why hadn't anyone? But the anger dissipated as quickly as it had formed.
