Chapter Thirty-Three

I continue to stare at the screen, caught in a state of suspended animation as everything clicks into place. Of course it wasn't Billy's ghost haunting the edge of the woods. It wasn't his spirit putting baseballs into the yard and scribbling in my notebook. It wasn't Billy who Vance Wallace saw rushing through his backyard. Something I should have realized from the start, for Vance never uttered Billy's name. He always referred to "the Barringer boy."

Andy Barringer.

Flesh and bone.

Pretending to be his dead brother for reasons I can't begin to understand.

That I was duped so thoroughly would consume my thoughts if not for several more pressing ones.

First, Andy is here.

Not off the grid but on Hemlock Circle.

And he's been here for days. At least since the day Billy's remains were found at the falls. I know because the next morning was when the first baseball was left on the lawn, setting off this whole chain of events.

Now he has Henry, a fact that snaps me back to action. I start across the yard, heading to the woods. "I think I know where he is."

I'd tell Ashley more, but it's too complex to explain. In this moment, I simply need her to trust that I know what I'm doing. Apparently, she does, because she's now right behind me as we crash through the trees. Darkness closes in around us the moment we're inside the woods. I point the flashlight on my phone at the ground ahead of us. Ashley does the same, the forest floor a blur in the harsh light.

"He's at the falls, isn't he?" Ashley says.

"Yeah," I say, for it's the only place I can think of where Andy would go. It's where I suspect he's been staying all this time. I think back to my trek there. The open barn door, the footprints in the dirt, even the can of tuna. All signs that someone was squatting on the grounds of the Hawthorne Institute.

Then, of course, there's the fact that it's where Billy was found. His resting place for thirty long, lonely years. It feels right that it all leads to that cursed place. So right that it almost seems inevitable.

Ashley and I don't talk as we push on through the woods. It's too loud, the insects here not singing but screaming. The frantic screeching sounds like a thousand sirens as we keep our lights on the ground ahead, watching our step, focused only on getting to the falls as fast as we can. When we reach the road at the halfway point, neither of us pauses to look for oncoming cars. That's precious seconds we can't afford to waste. We simply burst from the forest like swimmers emerging from water to catch their breath before plunging back in on the other side.

Not long after that, the lights latch onto something ahead of us.

The wall, looking extra forbidding at night.

We make a right until we reach the gap in the stone. I push through it first, followed by Ashley right behind me, breathing as heavily as I am, the puffs hot on the back of my neck.

On the other side of the wall, the night noise of the forest is joined by the distant roar of water, which gets louder each step we take. Once it drowns out all other sounds, I know we're there.

Pushing through the thinning trees, I point the phone's light straight ahead to the outcropping. Caught in the glare are two people.

The first is Andy Barringer.

He's bigger than the photos from the trail cam suggest. Not only taller, but thicker. A frame built by hard labor and not the gym. His eyes are big and round and attentive. Like an owl's. They make him look otherworldly. Almost spooky.

Andy steps to the side, revealing Henry at the edge of the precipice, looking so small, so helpless. His hands have been bound together at the wrists with rope, giving the awful impression of someone being forced to walk the plank.

Ashley cries out when she sees him. "Henry!"

He jerks to life. "Mom?"

"I'm here, baby," Ashley says as she starts to rush toward him. I pull her back and whisper in her ear.

"Wait. We don't know what he plans to do."

Up on the ledge, Andy wraps an arm around Henry's shoulders that could be there to keep him from falling or to keep him from escaping. In the dark, it's hard to tell. One thing I do know is that Andy's not interested in Henry.

I'm who he really wants.

Henry was just a way to get me here.

"Let him go, Andy," I say, trying to keep my voice calm. Still, panic underscores every word. A thin treble I can't get rid of. "I'm here now. That's what you wanted, isn't it? You and me at the place where Billy was found?"

"On the thirtieth anniversary of his death," Andy says. "Which wasn't the plan, but it does feel appropriate."

I risk a step toward the outcropping. When Andy doesn't react, I take another.

"What is the plan? I know it's not to hurt Henry. He has nothing to do with this."

"I had to get you here somehow, didn't I?" Andy says.

My gut tightens even as I'm flooded with pity for Andy Barringer. He's endured unimaginable pain. His brother vanishing into thin air, his father's death, his mother's slow sinking into madness. It's all too much for one person to bear. Yet none of it excuses what he's doing now.

"I know what you're going through," I tell Andy. "What happened to Billy messed me up in ways I can't even articulate."

"Then imagine how much worse it's been for me." A light breeze picks up, curling a tuft of his hair into a cowlick. Finally, he resembles the seven-year-old boy always begging me and Billy to let him tag along. "Billy was your friend, but he wasn't your brother. You don't know what it's like to have someone you love, someone you look up to, someone who was a constant presence in your life suddenly be gone."

He's wrong there. I do know. Her name was Claudia.

"But I know what it's like to miss someone," I say. "To miss them so much it sometimes feels impossible to keep going, yet somehow we do. And I know how that pain makes us do things we know we shouldn't."

I take a step closer, my hands raised so Andy can see them. When he doesn't try to stop me, I continue to edge forward.

Slowly.

So very slowly.

Like Henry's life depends on it.

Which it might.

Once I'm on the outcropping, I hang back, keeping enough distance between us so that Andy won't do anything rash. Now that I'm closer to Henry, I can see how brave he's being. With his glasses sitting crooked on his nose and swallowing back tears, he looks scared but calm. And blessedly unhurt, other than some redness caused by the rope around his wrists.

"Everything's going to be okay, Henry," I tell him. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Henry nods, and I hope he really believes me. Because I'm not sure I do. I'm concerned about how close Andy is keeping him to the outcropping's edge. I sneak a glance at the falls below, the water at its base frothing in the moonlight.

"Come on," I say to Andy. "Let him go."

"Please," Ashley says behind me. "He's a good boy, Andy."

"I won't hurt him," Andy says. "Enough boys his age have been hurt here."

"I assume this is because you want to talk about the night Billy died," I say. "So leave Henry with his mother and we'll talk."

Andy tightens his arm around Henry's shoulders. "Or we can talk with him here."

"Fine," I say, not having any other choice. "When did you know they found Billy's body here?"

"Not long after it happened. An ex told me. One of my mom's nurses."

I remember Ragesh mentioning how the police, assuming the remains found at the falls belonged to Billy, immediately tried to tell his family. He said the nurse had attempted to contact Andy but didn't know if she had reached him. Obviously, she did.

"As soon as she heard about it, she left me a message," Andy says. "She didn't know where I was or what I was doing. Turns out I was just across the state line in Pennsylvania, doing day labor on a farm. I quit and came here. To my surprise, you were here, too. So ever since, I've been…lurking."

An apt description of his actions. For Andy's spent most of this week hiding in the woods, watching. I now know he was the shadow person captured by the trail cam, likely crouched on the edge of the forest. What I can't understand is why. If he wanted to talk, he could have revealed himself. Instead, he continued to creep between the Hawthorne Institute and my backyard, usually with a baseball in hand.

"Why the baseballs?" I say.

Andy smiles. "The third one belonged to Billy. I kept it all these years. The others were bought at your friend Russell's store. He rang them up himself and didn't even recognize me."

"If you put them in the yard to get my attention, it worked."

"I wanted more than that," Andy says. "Just like right now, you need to do more than just talk. You need to remember."

At least I was right about that. I might have been off base about who was behind it all, but the goal of everything was to get me to remember that night. I even know why. I think about the morning Mrs. Barringer came into my yard, dragging Andy behind her, begging me to remember. I never stopped to wonder how much that affected him at such a young age. How it seared itself into his memory. How it poisoned his brain.

"We don't need Henry for that," I say.

"Apparently, we do. Since throwing baseballs into your yard like Billy used to do didn't work, and since breaking into your goddamn house using my mom's spare key didn't work, it became clear I needed to do something more drastic."

Andy pulls Henry against him, like they're old friends. But the gleam in his eyes is anything but friendly.

"I did remember," I say. "I'm surprised you don't know already, seeing how you've been keeping tabs on me."

Just like that, Andy releases Henry, who bobbles at the sudden movement. He sways toward the falls before straightening again and taking a shuffling step away from the edge of the outcropping. Andy acts quickly, grabbing Henry by the collar and dragging the boy back to his side.

"Tell me," Andy says.

"I will." I nod toward Henry. "Once I know he's safe."

Andy returns his arm to Henry's shoulders, this time even tighter. "No. Now."

"It was Russ Chen," I blurt out. "He slashed my tent. And then he hurt Billy."

Behind me, Ashley gasps, and I realize she didn't know, either. I'm sure the police presence at Russ's house made her suspect it, but that's different from hearing it confirmed out loud.

Billy's brother, though, doesn't appear surprised in the least. Instead, he looks doubtful.

"No, he didn't," Andy says. "Russ Chen might have slashed the tent. But I think someone else killed Billy."

I take a tentative step toward him, pulled closer by curiosity. "Why?"

"Because I was there, outside that tent." Andy gives me a look, daring me to doubt him. "And I heard what you said to my brother."