Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

CAMERON FINDS THE short drive home from the police station in his father's truck unbearable. His mother is on her way home separately in her car. He chose to ride with his father; in spite of everything, he's still acutely embarrassed about his mother hearing all that about his sex life. Somehow, he's not as embarrassed about it with his father. He sits beside his dad now in the front passenger seat, his hands clenched on his thighs, staring out the front windshield. He swallows. ‘Dad?'

‘Yeah?' His father darts a concerned look at him.

Cameron has never seen his dad seem so distressed, even though he can tell he's trying to be strong. It makes Cameron even more anxious about what his father's really thinking. ‘Some of those questions – do you think they suspect me of …' He can't even say it.

‘No!' His dad glances at him. ‘Don't even go there, Cameron. They have to ask those questions. You've told them the truth. They can't think you had anything to do with it. You have nothing to worry about.'

He steals a look at his father, now focusing on the road, his face unreadable. But Cameron hasn't told the police the truth. And he doesn't know if his father knows that, or if he's pretending. Cameron told the police he left Diana at her house at eleven. That much is true. She went inside. She slammed the door behind her. She didn't wave.

He squealed the truck's tyres on the street as he left because he was angry. He was furious. Because after they'd had sex, they'd had a nasty argument – their first big blowup. He can't bear to think about it. He'd driven home and parked in the driveway of his parents' house, trying to calm down. He'd gone inside. He felt like slamming things, but he didn't want to wake his parents. He slumped on the couch in the living room for a long while in the dark, thinking things over. He hadn't even taken his jacket off. And then he got up and went out again. He got in the truck and drove back to Diana's house. He didn't know if he wanted to apologize or continue their argument. That would depend on what she did.

What he doesn't know now, sitting in the truck with his dad, is whether his dad heard him come home and go out again, or possibly heard him come back in, much later. He doesn't know whether his dad knows he's lying. He didn't say anything at the police station. But he wouldn't, would he? His mother always sleeps with earplugs in, so he's not worried about her. But his dad might have heard. If he had, he hadn't been able to say anything about it this morning because he was already gone by the time Cameron got up.

You've told them the truth. You have nothing to worry about. Even if his dad knows, he's not going to say anything. He doesn't need to worry about that. But Cameron doesn't know if it's because his dad is complicit, or because he has no idea what his son is hiding.

And there's another thing. What if he was seen?

His overwhelming fear at least blunts his very real grief.

Vultures of another kind, Roy thinks with distaste, standing on the road and watching the reporters milling about on the edge of his property, where they've been kept back by police. He turns away and looks out into the field, which has been marked off by yellow police tape along the fence line. It seems so incongruous, all of it, the police tape against his bright green field, the police cars and crime vans, the people going about their jobs – some in police uniforms, some in white coveralls. A white tent has quickly been erected over where the body is, so they can study her in situ, and in privacy, away from long camera lenses. Near him are the cameramen with their heavy gear and the reporters with their made-up faces, their avidity and lack of respect. They're mostly not from around here. They've arrived from all over pretty damn quickly.

When he'd gone back up to the farmhouse on the tractor to tell his wife what he'd found, into the kitchen where she was making a pie, she'd asked him what he was doing back so soon. Then she turned and saw his face. ‘What is it?' she'd asked. Like she knew someone had died.

He'd told her at the kitchen table, the old, scarred pine table where all news, good and bad, seems to be delivered in their house. A girl lay dead in their field. Thank God it wasn't their own daughter. It was shocking, it was terrible, but it didn't affect them, not directly.

His wife hadn't wanted to come down to the field. She shook her head. ‘I don't want to see that,' she said, her face grim. But he'd gone back. He didn't want people traipsing all over his field. He wanted them to take the body away and for the crime-scene people and everyone else to get off his property. It was deeply unsettling, and he wanted everything to go back to normal. He had that luxury, that things could go back to normal; he knew the Brewer family didn't.

As the morning stretches on, while watching the authorities work, Roy wonders how she ended up in his field. What had he missed, last night, asleep in his bed? Someone must have driven up this isolated road and carried the girl into his field and left her there for the birds.

He tries to think of what kind of person could do that. But his mind stalls. He doesn't know anyone who could do such a thing.

Friday, Oct. 21, 2022, 11:35 a.m.

Diana is dead.

I can't believe it. I must be in shock. I'm home in my bedroom writing on my laptop, trying to process what's happened. I don't know what else to do. I can see my hands shaking as I type. I keep hitting the wrong keys. If I just keep typing maybe I can hold myself together. If I don't I might just disintegrate.

Diana is dead. She's been murdered. And it's like the world has just stopped.

The police came to our English class and told us. It was like a punch in the gut, and I still can't breathe properly. I saw her yesterday, after school, and she was fine. I can't reconcile that with her not being here anymore. It seems impossible.

They wanted to talk to anybody who knew her, to help in their investigation. They spoke to Riley first, while I waited outside the office, a line of other students behind me. They closed the blinds over the interior glass window so no one could see in. Riley was in there a long time.

A lot of us were crying and hugging one another. Everyone was distraught. They took us in one by one, everyone who knew her well. Riley first, then me. Apparently, they were already talking to Cameron somewhere else, probably at his house, because he has first period free and comes in late on Fridays. He must be out of his mind. I think he really loved her.

How will we live without her? How will I live without her? She was such a good friend. Not just to me, to all of us. It doesn't feel real. She had her whole bright life ahead of her and now she's gone, just like that. It's so fucking unfair. I can't stop crying and the tears are falling on my keyboard. Diana was the only one who understood me.

When I went into the office, Principal Kelly was there, sitting behind his desk, and managed to say, I'm so sorry, Evan . He looked like he was going to fall apart, but I think we all looked that way. The two police officers asked me to sit down. They introduced themselves but their names went right by me. They asked me my name, and where I lived, and they wrote it all down. I was suddenly weirdly nervous. But I think police officers make a lot of people feel that way.

They asked me what my relationship was with Diana, and I told them we were good friends. They asked if I knew whether Diana was having any problems with anyone, and I told them no, that everyone loved hanging out with her, that she was very popular. I felt like crying again, and it took a real effort not to. Then they asked me if she engaged in any ‘risky behaviours,' which I didn't know how to answer. Was having sex with your boyfriend risky behaviour? I wasn't sure. I must have looked confused because they clarified – did she do drugs, or party too hard? They said I could be honest with them, to just tell the truth, that no one was going to get into any trouble for it. I shook my head and told them that Diana would never take drugs, that she drank a bit, that we all did. I figured it was okay to admit that, although we're all under legal drinking age. I told them she was a good student, a good friend, and had a part-time job. She didn't get into trouble.

Then they asked about Cameron, how well I knew him. I said he was a friend of mine, that we'd known each other since we were six. They started asking what their relationship was like. I said it was good. They prodded, asking if there were any problems between them. Privately, I think Cameron was getting too possessive, and that it was starting to bother Diana. But I wasn't going to tell them that. I don't think Cameron murdered Diana, so I said I wasn't aware of any problems, and that they seemed happy together. I told them she would have told Riley more than she told me, that Riley knew everything going on in Diana's life.

Then they asked me if I knew of anyone who was ‘interested' in Diana, even though she was already going out with Cameron. I shrugged and told them that she was gorgeous, everyone wanted to date her. And they looked right at me and one of them said what about you? But I told them we were just friends and that I wasn't interested in Diana that way.

That was it. They said if I thought of anything, to get in touch, and handed me a card.

After that I came home. I wanted to be alone. There's no one here; both my parents are at work. When I called my mother from the school to tell her about Diana, crying on the phone, she said she'd come right home, but I told her to finish her day at work, that I was going to stick around the school for a while to be with my friends. I didn't bother calling my father.