Page 34

TWENTY-EIGHT

Layla’s hometown wasn’t something she talked a lot about. That’s the beauty of going to college. You get to take the parts of yourself you like with you, the parts that you haven’t fully developed yet, and leave all the rest behind.

Of course, she talked about her childhood at times.

Funny stories about recess and holiday traditions.

Things like that. I knew she had two devoted parents, still married after more than thirty years.

She had an older brother who went to college out of state.

Rarely did she talk about people she’d dated, but I knew there was a small group of girlfriends she’d had since elementary school.

Based on what she said, it sounded as though Layla lived a charmed life.

Still, there was a feeling I always had, beyond what she said.

It’s the way she would act after an extended visit back home—holiday breaks and long weekends.

Whenever she returned, she always seemed upset.

As though the person she’d once been clashed with the person she was now.

She’d never elaborate; I figured it was the same sort of growing pains most people experience when they go out into the world for the first time.

After she died, and I saw how viciously her parents went after Crystal and me in the courts, I wondered if maybe there were more complications in their relationship than she ever let on.

Grief is a hard thing to understand. I can’t imagine being in their shoes, but I always felt that blaming us for Layla’s death was the wrong route.

We all had our faults that night, but it was only the choices of Michael Massey that led to her death.

At least, that’s what I tell myself when my own conscience says I’m to blame.

What I do know and don’t know wrestles in my mind as I make the hour-long drive to her hometown. Layla, like me, was an outsider, and yet, it never really felt that way once we’d found one another.

I never went to her house, although she invited us once.

Her parents had asked me to join them for Thanksgiving, but I declined.

I was on better terms with my own mother back then.

She still brought out my insecurities in a way I couldn’t explain, but she didn’t really start making me feel like a failure until after I’d dropped out of school.

I’ll always regret not accepting Layla’s offer to join her; it would have been nice to have an extra holiday memory with her.

Even though I never made it to her house, her address wasn’t hard to find. A simple search online revealed the residence of Charles and Lena Williams, the same place they’ve lived for almost four decades.

I wonder if driving out here is a mistake, but if Crystal is right, and Layla’s parents are the ones who have been sending me threatening messages for the past ten years, it’s not really a conversation we can have over the phone.

Not that I’m even banking on a conversation.

As with all my other investigative techniques thus far, I’m hoping that after talking to them, I’ll have a better idea of what’s going on.

I park alongside the curb across from their house. It’s a two-story brick, a white picket fence circling the entire property. Like my mom’s place, there’s a large tree in the backyard, and the image of seeing a black heart carved into the bark flashes through my brain.

I close my eyes and inhale through my nose. My mind needs to stay clear if I’m going to find the courage to knock on that front door, to talk with the couple that once threatened to sue me.

I’m about to open the driver’s side door, when there’s a noise from Layla’s house across the street.

The front door opens, and a small child comes running out.

It’s a little boy, maybe three or four years old.

He runs full-force to the backyard tree, and jumps onto a swing. I hadn’t noticed it there before.

From the open doorway, comes another person. A woman in her early sixties. She’s holding a juice cup in one hand, a big smile across her face. Lena Williams. Layla’s mother.

For years, the only image I’ve had of her is the woman I saw in the wake of her daughter’s death.

Swollen eyes, sunken cheeks. An aura about her that warned she’d never recover from this heartbreak.

That was the woman I’d imagined sending the black hearts over the years.

Likely, the woman Crystal had imagined, too.

This Lena Williams is different. She walks to the tree with confidence, gently putting the juice cup on the grass beside it.

She bends down and whispers something to the child, then begins pushing him on the swing.

I’m not sure who looks happier. The toddler flying through the air, or the proud grandmother behind him, her hands softly pushing at his back.

A moment later, Layla’s father, Charles Williams, exits the house. Like his wife, he walks with confidence and grace. He smiles the smile of a person who is at peace. When he takes a seat in the Adirondack chair across from the tree, he leans back, letting the sunlight fall on his face.

Whatever ball of anxiety and shame that’s been lodged inside my chest loosens, feels like an iced-over heart that’s melting.

I never thought I’d see this. Layla’s parents, happy again.

More than ten years since their daughter has died, and they’ve somehow found peace.

Imagining they are the ones behind everything that’s been happening—the black hearts, the copycat crimes—seems so unlikely.

I pull out my phone, checking my messages for any updates.

I had to cancel a shift last-minute in order to drive out here, and I can see Nikki has sent out a message to the group chat, reminding all the servers about the proper protocols for giving up a shift.

I roll my eyes. I can’t expect her to understand why I needed to take off, let alone the satisfaction I now feel after seeing Layla’s parents in the flesh.

I’m about to put the car into drive when someone taps against the window.

I look up, startled, and see Lena Williams standing outside.

That ball of anxiety returns, rising so far into my throat, I fear I might choke.

She’s staring right at me, with a look of defiance on her face.

Over her shoulder, I can see Charles. He’s standing now, pushing the child on the swing.

My first reaction is to leave, but seeing the way Lena is glaring at me, I know that’s not an option.

I roll down my window.

“Hi, Mrs. Williams,” I say, with all the unease of a young schoolgirl.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone is curt.

“I…” My mind flails to come up with an answer. Where do I even begin? “I really don’t know.”

“You came all the way out here from Whitaker,” she says. “There must be a reason.”

Maybe I was too quick to take her off the suspect list. If she knows I still live in Whitaker, maybe she’s keeping tabs on me after all.

“The anniversary is coming up,” I say. “She’s been on my mind a lot. You all have.”

Lena looks over her shoulder, back at the house and her family playing in the backyard. When she turns back to me, something in her eyes seems to have shifted.

“It’s good to see you again, Becca. I think about you often. And Crystal.”

Of all the thoughts that must go through the Williams’ minds, Crystal and I should be low on that list. We weren’t the friends her daughter needed on the last night of her life.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” I say. “I think about it all the time.”

“I know that,” she says, looking down. “I never should have blamed you.”

“The lawsuit?—”

“The lawsuit was a horrible idea. We were so angry back then, we were looking for everyone and anyone to blame.” She looks at me, tears in her eyes. “I know the case was dropped, but I wish we’d never even started it. It was an awful way to treat you in the aftermath of what happened.”

My mouth opens and closes, unsure of what to say. I hadn’t been expecting an apology from Layla’s parents. I don’t deserve one.

“I replay that night all the time, even now. I wish we had stayed with her. We never should have left her alone.”

A real friend would have done more, wouldn’t have let petty feelings and indecision get in the way of Layla’s safety. It was a lapse in loyalty and judgement from which I’ll never recover. Even now, it’s painful being this close to Lena Williams, knowing I’ve stolen so much from her.

“I forgot what it’s like, being young and carefree. It often takes an event like what happened to Layla to remind you how dangerous the world really is. You weren’t thinking anything awful would happen when you left her there that night. I understand that now.”

I think of my last conversation with Layla, how I didn’t have the nerve to tell her about my full experience with Mike, how he might be dangerous.

“A better friend would have stayed,” I say.

“Growing up, Layla was always close to the girls around here. In my mind, I thought she’d go to school here, stay beside them.

It was scary to send my daughter off into the world, watch her build new friendships and leave the ones here behind.

But that’s what I wanted her to do. Spread her wings, and she did. ”

“She’s one of the best people I’ve ever known,” I say. “I’d give anything to have her here with us.”

“I would too.” She turns back to the house and looks at her smiling grandson.

“But there are other parts of life to celebrate. Since being a grandparent, I’ve understood that more.

My son still lives in the area, so I’m able to be a big part of his life.

Layla’s death nearly broke our family, but we’ve found a way to rebuild. ”

“I’m happy for you,” I say.

“I’ll never forget what happened. I still work with WU to ensure safety on campus. I started a charity and it’s ran by one of the professors there.”

“Really?” I ask. “Who is it?”

“Victoria Johnson. She’s done a lot to help build awareness on campus,” she says.

My stomach clenches. Victoria works alongside Layla’s parents. That must mean she knows more about her death than I ever realized. Could she know I was her roommate back then? That I was the one to leave her behind?

“I’m happy I got to apologize to you in person,” Lena says. “It was long overdue.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” I say. “I’m just happy you and your family have found peace.”

It’s true, I realize, as I make the long and lonely drive back to Whitaker, even more questions about Victoria and her intentions forming in my mind.