On the Night She Died: A Quarry Street Story Read online

“So much has changed around here,” she said.

  Alicia nodded. “Yep. You haven’t been back in a long time.”

  “No. I wouldn’t have come back at all, if not for my dad.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s hard to lose someone. When Jennilynn died, it seemed like it would take forever to get over the loss. To be honest, I’m not sure I ever did. I know my parents haven’t done a great job. And Ilya…” Alicia shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hijack your grief.”

  “It’s fine. I didn’t take it that way.” Rebecca sipped coffee. “I’m sorry about your sister, too. It must have been harder for you all. She was so young, and it was so unexpected. My dad had been sick on and off for a long time.”

  “I don’t know if that makes it any better. Losing someone you love is always hard, no matter what.” Alicia gave Rebecca a small, sad smile.

  Rebecca glanced at her watch. “I should get back to my mom. I left her napping. If she wakes up and I’m gone, she might worry.”

  “Sure, of course. Thanks for the coffee. If I can help you with anything else, let me know.”

  They both stood.

  Rebecca hesitated, thinking of the long ago night when she and Tristan had been in his room and Jennilynn had barged in with his dad. It hadn’t been much longer after that before the girl had been found dead. Neither she nor Tristan had come forward with that information back then. Steve Weatherfield had skipped town. She and Tristan had…well. They’d ended things, and not on a good note. Rebecca had gotten pregnant. Married. She’d left town. She had no idea where Tristan might have gone, or if he were still around.

  Back at her parents’ house, she checked on her mother. Still sleeping. With a bottle of wine and a crystal wine glass, Rebecca went into her childhood bedroom and opened up her laptop. It took only a few seconds to log in to her Connex account. She wasn’t active on there, preferring photo-based social media because it was easier to keep track of her pictures that way.

  She found Tristan’s profile with only another minute or so of searching. She scanned it. According to the information, he was married, and he still lived in Quarrytown.

  Married, she thought. Well. Damn.

  Then she closed her laptop and went about the very serious business of drinking that wine.

  Chapter 22

  Jenni

  On the Night She Died

  Jenni’s skin crawled at Barry’s touch. She’d known it, known he was a fucking perverted creepo who’d be down to get it on with her. Even when she showed up with the bloody mouth and the start of the black eye, all she had to do was crook her finger, and he was ready to go.

  “What the hell do you mean, give you the pills? You give me the cash,” Barry demanded when they’d finished what had passed for their sordid coupling. He hadn’t even been able to get hard. She should be glad he only slobbered all over her. “That’s how this works.”

  “Nope. How this worksh...works,” she restated to be more clear, “is that you’re going to give me the pills and the money. I’m getting out of here. I need product, and I need cash.”

  Barry shook his head. “No fucking way.”

  They hadn’t met at the house, because Galina was home from work. She was the one who stole the pills from the hospital, but she’d always insisted she never wanted to know anything about what happened to them after that. Barry and Jenni had met in the old equipment shed instead. Cold rain slanted through the holes in the roof, and Jenni shook with the chill. Her chattering teeth annoyed her, and she clenched her jaw to make them stop.

  “What happened to your face?”

  “You asked me that already.” She touched her lip. She knew it should hurt, but she’d taken a couple of pills and wasn’t feeling much of anything.

  “You didn’t answer me.” Barry pulled his coat up around his neck. “Jesus, Jennilynn. You’re a mess. What the hell is going on with you? Who did this? Dillon?”

  “Not him. You.” She tried to laugh, but it came out mushy and unformed. She jabbed a finger at him. “You did this to me. Or that’s what I’m going to tell everyone unless you give me those pills. Oh, and the money.”

  “Not happening.” Barry shook his head.

  Jenni took a step toward him, but the ground was uneven and her balance no good. She fell forward, smacking her knee against a rotting office chair and hitting her head on the shed’s wall for good measure. She fought off Barry’s hands when he tried to help her up.

  “I’ll tell them you hit me! And raped me! And whatever else I want!” That’s what she thought she shouted, but the words stuttered and wouldn’t come out right. She laughed again, the sound a mumbled jumble, a slurring mutter. It was really all she could manage. “I’ll tell Galina you fucked me.”

  “Jesus, we barely…we didn’t even.” Barry recoiled.

  “She’ll believe me. Doesn’t matter if the cops don’t, but they would too.”

  Barry shook his head. “You’ve clearly been fucking someone else.”

  “I’ll tell them, and show them, and what the hell, I’ll tell them about the pills, too. Then you’ll be the one who gets fucked.” This seemed hilarious to her. Barry didn’t seem to agree.

  “Jesus, fuck. Don’t. Please,” he said.

  Pathetic piece of shit. Jenni wove, standing still but unsteady. She hated him. If not for him, she’d never have done any of this. She would never have gone with Steve. She’d have worked at the diner and made money like a normal person, and she’d have kept it all.

  “Give me the pills! And the money!” She shouted, her voice hoarse and breaking.

  “Shit,” Barry cried. “What the hell am I supposed to tell Galina about the money? She counts it, you know! All of it! And she’s the only reason I get the fucking pills in the first place!”

  “You think I give one tiny little damn what you tell your wife?” She sneered the word.

  “I don’t have any of it. You think I carry all of that around with me all the time?”

  He was lying, she thought. “Why’d you meet me here, then?”

  “To get my money from you, you stupid little bitch.”

  Jenni spat a fresh gobbet of blood onto the ground. “Why is it that men always call us stupid bitches when they don’t get their own way?”

  Barry didn’t answer her on that. He pushed past her, pausing in the shed’s rotten doorway. “Just…get some help. I don’t care about the money. If you tell me who he is, I’ll make him stop hurting you.”

  She didn’t answer him. Barry left. He didn’t really want to help her, Jenni thought. Nobody ever did.

  Outside, she fought through the chill rain and the trees that slapped her in the face and bruised her even more. She stumbled from the edge of the treeline and made it to the passenger side of Steve’s car, parked in the dead end of the cul-de-sac. Ballsy of him. If anyone in her house or the Sterns’ across the street looked outside, they could possibly see it, even though the black car blended into the night. They’d wonder who was parked there. They might even come out to check, or call the police.

  The door didn’t open. Locked. Motherfucker. She went around to the driver’s side. He rolled down the window.

  “You get the stuff?”

  “He didn’t have it!” she said, trying to get his door open.

  Steve pushed her hand away from the handle and then pushed her back with a rough shove to her chest. She stumbled and went onto her ass. Startled more than hurt, since she was still feeling hardly any pain, Jenni got to her feet.

  “I’m out of here,” he told her. “Go home, little girl.”

  “Wait. I thought we were leaving town. Together?”

  Steve spit into the rain. “Nah. Not unless you can get me the stash and the cash, bitch.”

  Again with the bitch. She was fed-fucking-up with this bullshit, but when she tried to tell him so, all she could manage was a garbled mutter. Jenni tried to stand up straight but couldn’t quite manage. Another rush of rain pounded down, soaking he