“What is it you want to know? The usual stuff? Who, where, when?”
Put like that, it felt dirty and low. Stevie felt herself contract internally. This was what it felt like to talk to real survivors—it was something she would have to get used to, if not get comfortable with.
“What were your friends like?” Stevie asked. It seemed like the best way to ease into the nitty-gritty details.
“Fun,” Patty said without hesitation. “A lot of fun. Most of them. I’m going to sound like I’m a million years old, but it was such a different time. Everything was loose, free. A lot of it was really irresponsible, but we had a good time. Back then, I didn’t think about the future. In high school, I was . . . unfocused. Spoiled, if I’m being honest. I was terrible.” She smiled and shrugged apologetically. “My mother died when I was eleven—she had cancer. It was so horrific. My dad took care of me, but he didn’t talk much about anything. He was a war hero, actually. Military intelligence. He did something important in the war, behind enemy lines, in Germany. Serious stuff, the kind people write books about. It made him tight-lipped and stern. He made a good living, and between his salary and a little life insurance from my mom’s passing, we were very comfortable. He tried to care for me by giving me anything I wanted. I had fashionable clothes, whatever was the latest. I got all the records I wanted. I had horses. I got a car when I turned sixteen—a little MG convertible, which was very cool. We had the house with the big pool. I was that kid. While everyone else was thinking about their education and job, I was never thinking further than the next party, the next drama, the next new thing. I didn’t apply to college. That’s when my dad and I started to argue. We had some blowup fights my senior year. He wanted me to make a plan for my life, and he wanted me to stop hanging out with deadbeats. That’s what he called my friends.”
She took a long sip of her tea.
“You asked what they were like,” she said, refocusing. “Eric was sweet. Funny. A genuinely nice guy. Smart, too. A lot of people have made a big deal about the fact that he sold pot, but you have to understand . . . this was some low-level, high school, late-seventies stuff. He would have gone on to really good things if he had gotten himself together, which I think he would have. I miss them all, but I think about Eric a lot for some reason. Diane was one of my closest friends, but I can’t say I ever knew her well. Her parents owned the Dairy Duchess—it’s the diner down the street. She was tough, loved rock. Loved it. Especially Led Zeppelin. Loved going to concerts. I did too, but Diane was a real music person. She was Todd’s girlfriend, and Todd was . . . ”
Stevie saw Patty wrestling with her thoughts.
“I have a hard time reconciling this one,” she said. “Todd was not a good person, and I knew it, and I still liked him. He was the big man on campus—son of the mayor, captain of the football team. He felt like a big deal, which is ridiculous of course. At the time, though, it seemed so important. It’s so easy to get sucked in when you’re young. I should have stopped hanging out with him after Michael Penhale died, but I didn’t.”
“You think he had something to do with Michael Penhale’s death?” Stevie asked.
“Oh, he did it,” Patty said. “I’m sure of that. I was in his Jeep all the time—I knew how he drove. Fast, drunk, high. Someone saw him that night, and the police did nothing at all to investigate. And I saw the change in him after Michael Penhale died. He was always cocky, but after that he was unbearable. I could stand it because I was on the inside of the circle with him. I think I tried to tell myself it was just a terrible accident on a dark road. Todd didn’t mean to do it. I justified it in my mind by thinking that because it wasn’t intentional, it was . . . not okay, but not something that needed to be pursued? I’m not proud of any of this—I’m just telling you how it was.”
Janelle had stopped eating her cake. She was not the kind of person who could listen to a story like that and keep chowing down. Nate could multitask. Stevie was in the zone now, her mind moving through the facts.
“How did Sabrina fit into all this?” Stevie asked.
“I was never clear on why she started hanging out with us,” Patty replied. “She started sitting with us at lunch at the end of senior year. I think Diane brought her over, but I never knew why. Sabrina was kind of the queen bee of Liberty High.”
“Did you like her?”
“I think so,” Patty said. “It’s hard to say. I didn’t dislike her. We maybe made fun of her a little for being perfect, prissy. But she was nice. Didn’t seem to have a mean bone in her body. I wasn’t close to her. But it was Sabrina who inadvertently caused me to miss the trip into the woods that night.” Patty inhaled deeply and drummed her fingers on the table. “At that time, my life revolved around my boyfriend, Greg. We started dating early junior year. I was completely, totally, and utterly caught up in it. I barely thought about anything else. He was very handsome, but honestly, that’s all he had going for him. I built him up in my mind as this bold, interesting free spirit. What he was, in reality, was the town drug dealer until Eric took over and did a better job. Greg couldn’t even do that. He messed around with other girls. I knew it. We fought about it constantly, but I wouldn’t break up with him. At some point, he kissed Sabrina. She came and told me, which was decent of her. This was a few days before the murders. I was so upset I left camp, went home for a day, and cried and moped around. But honestly, it was boring being at home when everyone else was there. So I went back the next day. Greg apologized, so I forgave him, as usual. It was one of those teenage things—you fight and you kiss and make up. It was the Fourth of July, and we snuck into the woods and were . . . making up. I don’t need to say more than that. We were caught by the deputy head of camp and got put on house arrest. I worked with the kids during the day, but at eight o’clock each night I had to sleep in the nurse’s cabin and help out there if she needed it. At the time, it felt like the end of the world . . .”
She shook her head.
“So that’s where I was the night it happened,” she said. “That’s why I didn’t go with them into the woods. I was bored out of my mind in the infirmary. I couldn’t even sneak out because the nurse had insomnia. She sat up all night in a rocking chair, embroidering. All I remember was waking up the next morning to someone screaming across the lake, then the nurse grabbed her things and started running. I ran too, because I wanted to see what was going on. And that’s when I saw him. Eric. It was . . . I can’t describe it. You don’t ever want to see anything like it.”
This, Stevie understood from personal experience. She had discovered two dead bodies at Ellingham. They had not died in the same manner, but it was something that did not leave you. Sometimes, especially when she was trying to sleep, Stevie’s mind went back to those moments—seeing a pair of feet, a figure on the ground, the stillness, the . . .
She felt herself turning inside, the start of anxiety spiral. Janelle, being aware, pushed Stevie’s cake closer toward her and nodded, indicating she should take a bite. Sometimes, this was enough. Leave the thought for a moment; break the cycle just long enough to get off the anxiety train.