“Can I clean it up now?” I ask.
“Just let me get a picture.” Andy takes his phone out and as soon as I hear a click, I dunk the sponge in water and scrub it over her initials.
“Didn’t you want to bleach?” Olly asks.
“After this is clean,” I reply, gritting my teeth.
Just. Go.
Whose blood did she write it with? I cleaned the deer’s up. All that’s left is a stain. Her blood? Am I washing away forensic evidence?
I use both hands and scrub as hard as I can. Andy and Olly help. Only one of them is aware that I’m unraveling.
If Lillian never worked here, Andy won’t find her in the files. She’ll want to remain hidden. I don’t think she has been to the camp other than to snoop. I think that her accomplice is the one who worked here. Maybe still works here.
“All right,” Andy says as we finish cleaning up and then wash our hands. “We should all get back to bed.”
You would never know anything happened here. The floor is lighter and patchy where the blood was, but unless you were looking for it, you probably wouldn’t notice. And if anyone does notice, we’ll say food was spilled. The campers sure can make a mess.
Andy clears his throat. “I’ll take the trash out. You two get some rest. Thank you for everything you’ve done tonight. It won’t be forgotten.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
Olly and I leave first. We walk in silence out of the food hall and down the steps.
I swallow a sob. Don’t break down! “That was intense.”
“Who is LC?”
“Olly, please,” I whisper.
“Not happening.” Grabbing my hand, he pulls me in the opposite direction to my cabin.
“What are you doing?” I tug my arm, but he doesn’t loosen his grip, just keeps dragging me along with him. “Olly, let me go!”
“Shh. In here.”
The multiuse cabin. We were in here last night.
“This is becoming our thing,” I grumble as Olly shuts the door behind us and finally releases me.
He flicks on just the far lights, the ones that won’t be visible from outside. The thick blinds are down too.
I fold my arms and glare at him. “What do you want?”
“The truth.”
That’s rich.
“Ditto!”
His eyes darken. He’s mad…again. Well, so am I! “Esme, who is LC?”
I remain silent. Olly stalks closer. I narrow my eyes and hold my ground.
Stopping right before the toes of his shoes touch mine, he says, “LC just left a dead deer for us.”
“I remember!”
Sighing sharply, he looks up at the ceiling.
“I didn’t sneak out with anyone called LC,” I tell him. “Now it really is your turn.”
“Then who is it?”
“Olly! Where are you from?”
“Missouri.”
Not buying it.
He said he wants to be away from “here” and he’s super evasive. He probably chose Springfield because it’s the same name of the town in The Simpsons, his favorite show.
He must be from Texas.
Oh God. That’s it! How did I not connect the dots earlier?
“You said your favorite thing to do as a kid was visit Six Flags Fiesta. Fiesta. That one is in Texas,” I say.
He winces, grinding his teeth.
“Tell me the truth. Now.”
“Esme, you’re—”
“No! I don’t want any dumb excuse or bullshit story. Tell me the truth, Olly.”
“All right! Fine.” He takes a long breath. “I moved from Texas to Missouri when I was fifteen.”
I take a step back. I knew it. “Why would you lie about that?”
“I haven’t been back here in a long time.”
“Three years isn’t a long time, Olly.”
“It feels like it.”
“You lived here? In this town?”
“No, the next one over. The towns share this forest. I wanted to come here without baggage.”
Oh God.
“You said you didn’t know your way around town.”
“That wasn’t a lie. I’ve only been there a few times in passing.”
“Where is Jake from?”
“Texas.”
Of course he is. Both of them are popular and athletic, and they’re too close to be two-week-old friends.
“Right. So you did know each other before coming here.”
“I’ve known him since we were about five. We kept in touch after I moved.”
Great, twelve years, not two weeks.
“This makes no sense. Why would you lie about either of those things?”
“I used to go into the woods with my friends and older brother at night,” Olly says. “Since I was about eight, we’d sneak off and hike or make a campfire. There was a large group of us.”
My stomach clenches.
Where is he going with this?
“Olly…were you there that night?”
I turn around, unable to look at him. Shame washes over me, and I feel sick.
His footsteps creak on the wooden floor as he gets closer.
“Yes,” he whispers, his breath blowing across the back of my neck.
I close my eyes.
“What did you see?”
“I got lost in the woods that night for the first time ever. We were walking, and I heard something. The others told me I was crazy and kept going, but I ditched them and came back. I saw the most beautiful girl—she looked like an angel—about my age, hanging out with her friend. You were both wearing pajamas, so I figured you had to be campers.”
I look over my shoulder and he wraps his arms around me, hugging my back to his chest.
“It’s okay, Esme.”
“You saw the fire?”
“Yes. I saw you stack too much wood on the fire. I saw that girl come and talk to you and Kayla. I saw the fire get out of hand, and…I saw the fight.”