Page 79 of Buried in the Woods Below

A buzz.

Before I hang up, I have to ask her. “Mom, is everything all right?”

“Everything’s…sweetheart. E…going to be fine.”

The words I can hear are sweet and calming, but underneath them, lurking in the static, is a simple promise: Everything will not be fine.

I hang up the phone, head inside, and sink into my bed.

I watch the fan spin, casting shadows on the ceiling. It reminds me of this island, turning everyone here into shadows of themselves, magnifying the worst qualities in everyone. Laelynn’s protectiveness. Olivia’s immaturity. Russ Neuman’s eccentricity. Carlos’s impulsiveness. Eric’s naivete. My paranoia.

It feels as though Vivek and Freida’s murder was less a shocking spurt of violence and more the inevitable conclusion to something that’s been simmering on this lonely rock for ages. And the longer I stay here, the more likely I am to fall victim to that same inevitability.

Chapter 36

Precisely thirty minutes later, a boat roars up to the Parkers’ dock. My mother stands at the bow, like a commander landing on foreign soil. A bank of oily clouds hovers behind her like a waiting army, thunder in the distance like war cries. She wears a navy-blue pinstriped pantsuit with an orange polka-dot scarf tied in her hair and white-framed sunglasses. Her chin is high; her jaw is set. There is work to do.

I jog down the Parkers’ lawn and hug her as she steps off the boat, her tan heels clicking against the planks. A breath of her familiar perfume—black currant and hazelnut—almost breaks me.

She pays the boat taxi driver, and he reverses and drives back to town. The wind howls, and static runs through the air. I wonder if we should have been on that boat with him.

Mom drops her purse on the dock and removes her sunglasses, her eyes glassy. She places both hands on my shoulders. I expect her to pull me into a hug, but she just stares, inspecting me like she’s reading a stock chart. It’s the same old trick she’s used since I was a kid. She’s searching for something, but I’m not sure what. I meet her stare, wondering what she’s hiding.

After a beat, she finds whatever she was looking for and releases me. She slips off her heels and walks barefoot up the lawn to the patio.

“Are the Parkers inside?” she asks, her voice crisp and precise.

I nod.

“Okay then. Why don’t we sit on the patio and talk?”

We take seats at the far end, the same spot where Detective Gonzalez interviewed me, so we’re out of earshot of anyone in the kitchen. She sighs and removes the scarf from her hair, wrapping it around her right hand like a tourniquet. My heart flutters in my chest as I wait for her to speak, half fearing a confession. But she doesn’t confess; instead, she interrogates.

“What did you tell Detective Gonzalez?”

Her question lands like a slap. I fold my arms across my chest and lean back in my seat. “I told him the truth.”

“Which is?”

“Vivek and I were colleagues. The last time I saw him was when Eric and I took a walk yesterday evening. And we saw you meeting with them to discuss…business.”

She closes her eyes and massages her eyelids. “Jesus.”

“Mom. I didn’t have a choice. They were going to find out anyway. If I lied to them, they’d think you killed them.” As I speak, my eyes drift to the lake. A boat lazily bobs in the water. A man with a fishing pole. Who goes fishing at this time in this weather?

“What were you doing going for a walk alone with Eric at night?” asks my mom.

I feel my cheeks warm. “It wasn’t anything inappropriate. It was a beautiful night, and he asked if I wanted to join him. So I did.”

She tilts her head. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”

“No.”

Sadly, no.

My eyes return to the fisherman. His rod is in the water, but he’s ignoring it. He’s watching us. I’m reminded of the old saying: The murderer always returns to the scene of the crime. My mother ignores him.

“And you two saw me? With them?”