I pulled out two Shiner Bocks, twisted off the tops, and passed one to Graham. He leaned against the counter, crossing his legs at the ankle.
“She’s dead.” My voice sounded detached, like it belonged to someone else.
I took a long pull of the beer, then folded my arms across my stomach, clutching the cold bottle to my chest.
“That’s fucking awful. Do you know what happened?” Graham’s face looked stricken.
“I don’t know all the details just yet, only what Tina has told me.”
I hesitated telling him about Margot’s land, but there was no point in keeping it a secret; it was going to be splashed all over the news first thing in the morning.
“Her body was found this afternoon. She’d been shot. Blasted by a shotgun. A groundskeeper discovered her body in the woods.”
“Oh, Sophie, I’m so very sorry.” Graham set down his beer, walked over to me, held me in his arms. I felt despicable allowing myself to be consoled like this, so I only allowed it for a quick moment before I released his hold. I slid his arms down to my sides and clasped his hands in mine.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” I kept my eyes trained on the floor and gave his fingers a quick squeeze. “Abby was found on Margot’s land. At the lake. Where I’ve been meeting the girls to shoot.” I flicked my gaze to his.
His hands fell limp in mine; his eyes blazed with obvious fear.
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t,either.”
“Sophie, what the fuck? That’s crazy.” He pulled his hands away from mine, grabbed his beer, sipped it. I couldn’t read his expression; I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me or alarmed about all of our well-being the way Tina had been.
“Jesus,” he continued, his head cocked back, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. “That could’ve been you.”
I knew this was probably my last chance to come clean about all I knew; I wanted to tell him that there probably hadn’t been a boogeyman lurking around Margot’s land, that the real culprit was most likely Margot herself. Or Margot and Brad. Or just Brad. But the truth stayed lodged inside my chest, a stubborn, stabbing pain.
“I know,” I said instead, and then felt guilty for playing along with this scenario, as if I were milking undeserved sympathy.
“Any suspects?”
I shook my head, drained the rest of my beer.Brad. Margot. Margot and Brad.
“Her poor parents.”
I felt my shoulders relax when he said this; I was happy the focus was backoff me. “And your friend, Jill or whatever—sorry, I can’t keep them straight—” he said with genuine apology in his voice.
“Jill, yes,” I said softly.
“She must be in shambles.”
I nodded, bit down on my lower lip.
“Oh, Soph,” he said, drawing me back into a hug. “I’msosorry for your friend.”
I buried my head in his chest, which smelled charred and tangy from the grill, and this time, allowed myself to be folded into his arms while a rigid dam inside me burst and my chest began to quake with sobs.
Abby is dead. Abby is dead. Abby is dead.
43
Friday, April 20, 2018
IT'S ONE INthe morning. The sky outside my window is stained with black storm clouds, but it hasn’t rained yet and the air outdoors feels stuffy and oppressive.
I’m back inside just now from my walk on the trail. I couldn’t bear to stay in the house this morning, waiting for the full story about Abby to drop, so as soon as Graham and Jack left, I bolted out the back door and headed up the quiet street. I couldn’t even still myself long enough to sit behind my laptop and wait for it to spring to life—I needed to keep moving.
