Page 7 of Are You Scared, Krowe?

"Man, fuck Toby for ignoring us." Jackson grumbles, staring out the window of my truck as we amble up to the cemetery.

The gates are wide open to receive visitors this time, so we roll right past them as I ease us to the back of the cemetery.

There aren't many people out here today, but they all wave in greeting as we pass, and we wave back.

And when we get to the very end of the cemetery, past the mausoleum, there's Toby's mom's beat up old Honda.

"Fucking asshole." Jackson grunts, opening the door and dropping out onto the pavement.

I don't know what Toby would be doing here, but it's suspicious as hell. He better fucking hope that no one's spotted him out here.

There's a thin sheen of ice on his windshield, and when I stare at it, I can see the delicate webbing of the glass shattered beneath it. I wonder when he did that... and what he hit. Judging by the fact there's no fender damage, I'm assuming it wasn't a deer. Maybe just a rock.

"It's fucking colder than a witch's tit." Jackson huffs, crossing his arms over himself to try and trap some of his own body heat.

"You got a lot of experience playing with a witch's tit?" I ask, because it's automatic. But beneath the ease of our banter, something is brewing inside of me. Something uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I fucked your mom last night after our cornfield party." Jackson snaps. "You shoulda heard her calling my name."

I roll my eyes, unbothered by his bullshit. We've been friends long enough that he knows exactly how to get under my skin. I had to learn how to stop letting it work.

"Come on." I tell him, gesturing ahead to the rows of cornstalks ahead of us.

"What the fuck for?"

"Toby's clearly here. Let's go get him."

"Sick fuck probably wanted her to himself a while." Jackson laughs. "We should let him go. This is probably the only chance he gets to get his dick wet."

I don't doubt it. But Gianna's mom is alarmed enough to get my dad involved, and that's not good for any of us.

I expected to be able to intimidate her into silence, and I think we still could.

I planned to corner her tonight and make sure she understands.

But if the police get involved, there's too much opportunity for her to crack. And if that happens...

Well, I don't know. Jackson's dad could probably get the two of us free of any charges, at least. But my dad? He might lock me up just for lying to him this morning.

I decide right then and there to deny, deny, deny.

There's a howl in the wind as we pick our way through the cornfield, expertly dodging getting slapped in the face by stalks of it as we amble forward. The chill seems to deepen as we get closer, which is how I know the corn is thinning.

I don't know what I expect.

To find her dead on the stake, maybe.

To find Toby fucking her into the dirt.

To see him with his hands around her throat to try and silence her before she can tell on us.

But there's none of that.

The girl we left naked and bound to the stake last night is gone, and I breathe a sigh of relief that Toby at least didn't fuck that part up.

I was a little afraid to trust him to intimidate her into silence, but it was so damn cold last night— way too cold to get out of bed when my alarm went off at seven a.m.

In her place, though, there's another scarecrow.

It's not the one I pulled off last night, which still lays on the ground, straw spilling out of its sleeves.

The plastic pumpkin that served as its head has rolled away, resting at the edge of the cornfield, knocking slowly against it as the wind blows hard in that direction.

I stare at the scarecrow on the stake, noticing the large letter HF sewn onto the front left of the jacket.

It's the same jacket I wore last night... the same one we all have.

"Cute." Jackson laughs. "That's a nice touch. I'm guessing new girl got pissed and decided to try and make a statement."

I study the scarecrow.

It's got no hands, and the head is obscured by a burlap sack saturated in something red… colored corn syrup or ketchup, I assume.

It’s unsettling though. The whole thing looks somehow... real.

"Where'd she get the jacket, though?" I ask, taking a step closer to it, kicking one of the legs that just barely dangles off the ground. I'm surprised by the weight of it.

"One of us must have left it," Jackson shrugs. "Can we go? It's fucking cold and I'm bored. Clearly Toby's not here."

Except his car was.

So where is he?

I cock my head to the side, trying to figure out what it is about the scarecrow that's so unsettling.

It's probably just my nerves, fear of getting caught.

I'm not a fucking monster. I know what I did was wrong, and I definitely shouldn't have let it go so far last night. I didn't expect it to turn into what it did, and now, in the cold light of day with the alcohol out of my system and the idea of my family finding out, I feel... guilty.

Maybe that's what has me reaching for the hood. Maybe it's just curiosity; an itch I have to scratch.

Either way, I'm not prepared for the sight when I pull off the hood.

"Fuck!" I shout, pushing the weight off of me as the scarecrow falls toward me.

But it's heavy— far heavier than it should be. The weight throws me off balance and knocks me to the ground with it on top of me.

The scarecrow has a face, though, it doesn't look like much of it is left.

Long claw marks drag the length of the flesh, or what's left of it, and the skin is flayed apart, ripped open but not bleeding.

I've seen props like this a thousand times, thanks to my sister. But this one is especially convincing.

"Fucking hell." I growl, shoving it off of me and scrambling to my feet. "That's nasty."

Jackson's too busy laughing to commiserate with me, so I roll my eyes and give the damn thing a kick for good measure, to release some frustration.

Except, when I kick it, the body rolls and I catch a glint of gold on its neck.

Suspicion prickles at my spine as I squint, wondering if I'm seeing what I think I am.

"This is fucking stupid." Jackson rolls his eyes and whips out his phone. "I'm gonna call him again."

I can't get my tongue to work to say the thing I'm thinking... the thing I realize as I see the crucifix pressed against his neck.

A ringing sounds from somewhere beneath the scarecrow, and I jump back as realization slams into me.

It takes another minute before Jackson catches on.

"What?" He asks, eyeing the body for signs of anything amiss. When he hears the ringing, I see awareness begin to light in his eyes.

"The hell?" He asks, glancing down at the blood-soaked jeans. I have half a mind to stop him as he bends down to turn the body over. And it is a body, I'm sure of that.

He's silent as he grabs the still-ringing phone out of the back pocket, confusion crossing his face as he looks down at the screen.

He turns it to face me, confirming exactly what I suspected. The name of the caller on the phone... Jackson.

We found Toby's phone.

And his body.

"Tell me again..." dad says, "Nice and slow. How did you boys end up out here?"

I tear my attention away from the woman who zips Toby's body into the bag, her brown ponytail swaying when she stands.

"We couldn't find Toby anywhere." Jackson explains. It's the truth. "And we had some time to kill before the game tonight, so we decided to look for him, right, Krowe?"

"Right." I nod, watching them lift the stretcher into the back of the SUV. "He wasn't answering his phone."

"And you didn't find his phone?" Dad asks, eyeing me with unveiled suspicion.

"No, sir." Jackson shakes his head. "But we didn't look much. As soon as Krowe recognized the necklace, we called you."

Dad's gaze lingers, but after a moment, he nods.

"Alright, then. Wanna tell me what made you check here of all places?"

Jackson looks to me pointedly, wanting me to take this one. We discussed this, and unfortunately, we can't hide the truth. Just parts of it.

"We were here last night. I brought the music; Toby brought the booze."

"You were here?" Dad asks, raising a thick eyebrow before turning to check up on his crime scene. Or maybe he's making sure no one is listening to our conversation.

"Yeah." I say calmly. "We were here last night, drinking. Toby left when we did."

"Then what brought him back out here?" Dad asks shrewdly. "His car's here, so he came back willingly."

"Maybe looking for his phone." I shrug. "I don't know, but I'm guessing he lost it last night and didn't notice. Probably came back here to try and find it this morning and..."

"An autopsy will give us a time of death." Dad says, rubbing his jaw like that will help ease some of the tension. "Fucking hell. How am I gonna tell Emma her son's dead when I don't have any answers about what happened."

Toby's mom, Emma, went to school with my parents. They were close, by all accounts. And though I don't think they talk much these days, I can tell he's not liking the idea of having to break the news to one of his friends.

I know the question wasn't for me, so I don't even try to answer. I just wait, watching the photographer flip through her camera roll to make sure she's got all the evidence. And just in time, too, because the rumbling comes half a moment before I smell the exhaust.

"Fuck me." Jackson groans at the sight of his father's truck plowing our way, mowing through the corn field as it bounces back and forth on the uneven ground.

"Of course." Dad rolls his eyes, but he's got a grin ready by the time Will Devoreaux steps out of his truck... practically right into the middle of the crime scene.

"Will." Dad greets him. "You got here quick."

"No thanks to my son." Will snaps, glaring at Jackson accusingly. "What's going on? I heard there was a girl missing, now I'm seeing something about a dead young man?"

"Toby Connors, if we can trust the wallet in his pocket." Dad nods.

"His wallet? You mean you didn't recognize him?"

"Nope." Dad sighs. "And you wouldn'ta either. His face was all clawed up. Looks like the crows got him... except he didn't tie himself up there himself."

Will's eyes follow the direction dad indicates, and his face goes slack with shock when he sees the stake.

"He was tied up there?"

"Sure was." Dad nods. "Not too well, mind you. Fell down on Easton here when he went to check his necklace he recognized."

"That so?" Will turns his eyes on me, looking surprisingly addled.

"Yeah." I swallow the bile that creeps up my throat at the thought of his face shredded into ribbons beneath that hood.

"Well, lucky you boys came out here before everyone started setting up for the festival tonight." His eyes swivel to my father. "This mess will all be gone before they start setting up, right? I don't wanna scare anyone."

Dad hesitates, turning to take in the scene. Toby's body is in the back of the coroner's van, but otherwise, there isn't much out here.

"I don't see why not. I'll just get Jed out here to comb the field and then I can clear it for tonight."

"Jed?" I ask, glancing at Jackson.

"Mm." Dad nods. "If I missed anything, you know he'll find it."

The old hound is half blind, but the blue tick in him is still ticking. He can sniff out a groundhog in the barn amidst all the cow shit. I don't doubt if he were here now, he'd be alerting to the fact that Toby's phone is in Jackson's pocket.

"We'd best go get ready for the game." Jackson says; I presume he's realized the same thing I have.

"Stop and see Miss Rosie, fill up your stomachs." Will says, chuckling as he claps us each on the back with a separate hand.

"What the fuck now?" Dad grumbles when the phone begins to ring.

We don't stick around to hear whatever it is, both of us backing away until Jackson can slip in front of me, so my body can block the view of two rectangles in his pockets. His phone, and Toby's.

"Carb load, boys!" Will calls after us. "It's gonna be a big night."