Page 44 of They Say a Girl Died Here

Todd looked down at his feet, awkward. “Every sample I took yesterday was a match. It was all your blood. You’re in the system. The results came back straightaway.”

Mom looked at Anna, disgusted. “So your grandmother was telling the truth. There was a policeman in the basement.”

Anna couldn’t speak, her mom’s words barely penetrating. It couldn’t be her blood. There had to be a mistake. Shards of coal glittered in the corner of her eyes as her chest constricted. It wasn’t possible.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Anna.” Mom’s tether to her sympathy finally snapped, her patience gone. “I can’t do this anymore.”

49

Things got worse when they went down to look. The evidence had vanished. There was no blood in the basement anymore. No bloodstains, no handprint, no splatter. All eyes turned to her, in silence, none of them saying what they suspected. That Anna had cleaned up the blood herself. Her skin burned and she stayed behind when Mom and the sheriff and Todd went back upstairs, her head buzzing as she moved boxes, searching and scanning the room, desperate to find evidence of it. What was crazier? That the blood she’d found was somehow hers, or that it had now inexplicably disappeared?

As panic threatened to overwhelm her, she raced back up the stairs and out the front door, hearing the sheriff and Mom talking quietly in the kitchen, and she’d just lit a cigarette with shaky hands when Todd came onto the porch to join her.

She blew out a long stream of smoke. “Guess you must have been laughing at me down at the sheriff’s office before coming up here. Crazy Anna, obsessed with dead girls. Leaving a trail of her own blood. Doesn’t even remember doing it.” Angry tears blurred her vision. Great. And now she was going to cry.

“No, it’s not like that.” He scuffed the floor with his shoe. “I figured you must have done it when you moved in and not realized. Small cuts can bleed a lot. I don’t blame you for wanting it tested. For wanting to be sure it wasn’t Bonnie’s or Lila’s. After what happened to you—”

“What do you mean?” She was suddenly cold in the heat. Oh god.

“Like I said, your blood’s in the system.” His skin flushed rose against his tan. “From what happened to you in New York.”

“You know what happened to me?” The world spun. No, no, no. “The sheriff knows what happened to me?”

“I don’t know all of it. Not my business. I know it was bad. I know it wasn’t your fault. And I’m sorry.”

She drew hard on the cigarette. She didn’t care that he was sorry. Her mind was racing as panic rose in her gorge. If he knew and the sheriff knew, then surely soon everyone would know. Callie’s friends at school. Jeannie. Miles. Suzy. Her flesh prickled cold despite the awful oppressive heat. She was going to throw up. She was going to pass out. She leaned on the porch handrail. People here in Harper’s Creek knew. The shame would stifle her before the heat would.

“If you tell anyone about it, I will kill you.” Her throat was sandpaper, the smoke and the anxiety sucking her voice dry. “I swear I will.”

“Of course I won’t tell anyone.” He looked hurt that she’d even think it. “And neither will Sheriff Adams. He doesn’t speak out of turn. And he cares about this whole town—you included. He wouldn’t talk about that.”

The door opened again, and Grandma was there, staring out at them from the hallway. They both looked back at her, Anna waiting for some sharp comment, but she said nothing until Mom came to the door to see Sheriff Adams off. Grandma kept her eyes on Todd.

“Right is right, and wrong is wrong,” she said, directly to him. “And a body ain’t got no business doing wrong when he ain’t ignorant and knows better.”

“You know your classics, Ms. Maybourne,” the sheriff said, tipping his hat.

“Do I?” Grandma looked at him, confused, as if she’d been unaware she’d spoken. She glanced around, awkward. Uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Anna knew how she felt. “I think I need some cold lemonade, Claire.”

“Sure.” Mom ushered Grandma back inside. “And thank you, Sheriff, I’ll deal with it from here.”

Anna couldn’t face him; she didn’t want to see either him or Todd ever again, the shame of it eating her up, so she fled around the side of the porch, leaned up against the wall, taking deep hot breaths until her forgotten cigarette burned her fingertips and the sheriff’s car was barely dust in the distance.

50

All the innate Thank you, Sheriff, I’ll deal with it from here politeness vanished when the two men left, and Mom paced and raged at Anna, who sat slumped at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. “You’re going back to therapy as soon as I can get you an appointment. You’ll have to come in and do it at the hospital where I work.”

“I’m fine, Mom.” She wanted to smoke. She wanted to get out of here. The heat coming through the window glass was intense, a spotlight of fire on her, brightening everything and making her eyes hurt.

“Fine?” Mom’s pacing stopped momentarily. “Explain what about any of this is fine. Aside from the fact we’re new here and you’re already causing trouble, you threatened Lucas to make him break up with me?” She shook her head, still in disbelief. “You saw how hurt I was, Anna. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you accused him of murder.”

“For the last time, I didn’t accuse him.” She barely had the energy to speak. “I was curious how hard they’d investigated. And he worked at the school.” What was the point? She couldn’t make Mom understand.

“It worries me that you actually believe your own excuses.”

“Maybe it was too soon, Claire.” Grandma had poured two glasses of iced tea and put one in front of Anna and another on the table for Mom. It was the first time she’d spoken since they’d come inside, and Anna and her mother looked at her. Both of them surprised. Mom more than Anna.

“Too soon?”