“Still…” Lee moved as if to take back the camera from Mina. “We can’t just hand over footage that belongs to the production company.”
“It’s the Finches’ production company, and yes, we can.” Mina’s tone was sharp as she stuffed the camera inside a bag and held it out to me.
I took it as four words stuck in my mind:The Finches’ production company.
ELEVEN
Lacy was innocent. I knew this because she was my best friend, and I’d known her almost my entire life.
In second grade, I’d told her my biggest secret at the time: I had a crush on Joe—yes,theJoe Larson—primarily because one day on the playground he’d found a baby bird that had fallen from a tree and gently wrapped it up in a napkin, climbed the tree, and put it back. I’d had no idea that I wouldn’t think about Joe in that way again until our junior year of high school when he asked me to prom.Our “relationship” had lasted until three weeks later when he burped the national anthem at a softball game, and I just couldn’t see him like that anymore.
Back in second grade, though, I would draw very bad pictures of horses and give them to my friends. After the baby bird incident, Trudy Livingston had found one I’d made of me and Joe as horses with hearts around our heads and, during math center time, she’d passed it around for the entire class to see. When seven-year-old Lacy had realized what was circulating, she’d snatched it out of a kid’s hand, stood on a desk in the middle of class, and begun to passionately belt out “Part of Your World” fromThe Little Mermaid.
It was Katniss volunteering as tribute, it was Abraham sacrificing his son, it was beautiful.
The rest of the day had been spent talking about Lacy’s song, discussing whether it was brave or the s-word (stupid), and forgetting about the lovey-dovey horse versions of me and Joe.
I would always remember how Lacy had helped people turn their attention to her instead of pointing fingers at me, and now I needed to ensure that she wasn’t unduly accused. So as not to withhold evidence, I would show Charlie the footage, but I would watch it with him, arguing her case as needed.
I made my way to the stage and got Charlie’s attention, lifting the camera bag up for him to see.
“Mina said they were getting shots of the room when Brett started coughing. There’s footage of the death.”
Charlie took it from me and glanced around. “This way.”
He led me to the sound booth and closed the door behind us. It was the first time we’d been alone all evening without a dead body in between us.
Methodically, Charlie removed the camera from the bag, and familiarized himself with the controls.
I tried to keep my hands still and my heart from exploding as he found the video and pressed play. I wanted to see the footage, but I didn’t want Charlie to view it the way Lee obviously had—as if Lacy might be to blame for Brett’s death.
The small screen came to life with familiar figures. There was Lacy, her and Brett dancing as the camera panned past them to take in the full length and breadth of the Primrose Ballroom.
For several slow seconds, the lens lighted on Jemma singing her heart out, on the paper-mache flowers hanging from the ceiling, on the disco ball hanging above the center of the dance floor, on Presley heading toward the back of the ballroom as if she had other business to attend to.
Then, it was back to Brett and Lacy, her arm draped over his shoulder, her hand dangling over his cup. Brett turned toward her, a big grin on his face, and spoke into her ear for several seconds. As he talked, Lacy’s body language shifted, and though I couldn’t see her face clearly, I was fairly certain that she elbowed him in the stomach before responding.
A figure’s hand entered the screen. Then, half a head made an appearance. It was Anton. It seemed as if he was about to step onto the dance floor, but Lacy looked straight at him and shook her head. Anton stayed where he was.
Oh, Lord.
I made myself keep watching, hoping that Charlie was somehow seeing all of this differently than it first appeared.
There were other people milling about on-screen, confusing the eye. Valerie stood on the outskirts of the dance floor next to Will Hurt, her arms crossed. Mina held a light meter a few feet from their subject. Joe spoke to a passing server. Jemma kept on singing.
Brett bounced to the beat of the music and tried to put both of his hands on Lacy’s hips. She pushed him off and took one step back. He laughed and then he was downing his glass in one gulp.
Seconds later he began to clutch at his throat.
Presley came back on-screen at Brett’s first wheezing cough but didn’t immediately rush over.
Lacy, her eyes wide, scanned the room and backed away from Brett as his hand went to his neck and he began clawing at his throat.
Less than thirty seconds later, the camera fell, the world tilting sideways as the crowd made a circle around Brett. It was hard to see much of anything clearly anymore, but I could vaguely hear myself telling Lacy to call 911 as I started CPR.
The camera caught the sounds of me compressing, counting, and breathing into Brett’s mouth before Lee picked up the device, looked straight into the lens and cursed.
Then, the screen went dark. That was the end.
