Page 52 of This is Why We Lied

“You assholes.” Delilah’s bedroom slippers thumped on the boards as she slowly walked down the stairs. She was talking to her family. “Which one of you did this?”

Will watched her stop in front of Bitty. The aunt’s anger had sparked like lightning. Her lower lip trembled. Tears streamed from her eyes.

“You.” She jammed her finger in Bitty’s face. “Did you do it? I heard you threaten Mercy before dinner.”

Chuck barked a nervous laugh.

Delilah turned on him. “Shut your filthy mouth, you disgusting pervert. We all saw you pawing at Mercy. What was that about? And you, you feckless pantywaist.”

Christopher didn’t look up, but it was clear he knew Delilah was talking to him.

Delilah said, “Don’t think I’m not on to you, Fishtopher.”

Cecil said, “Dammit, Dee, stop this bullshit. We all know who did this.”

“Don’t you dare.” Bitty’s voice was soft, but it carried weight. “We don’t know at all.”

“For fucksakes.” Delilah’s hands were on her hips as she loomed over Bitty. “Why are you always protecting that worthless piece of shit? Didn’t you just hear the man? Your daughter has been murdered! Stabbed multiple times! Your own flesh and blood! Don’t you care?”

“Like you care?” Bitty demanded. “You’ve been gone for thirteen years and suddenly you know everything about it?”

“I know about you, you goddam—”

“That’s enough.” Will had to get them separated before they tore each other apart. “You should each go back to your bedrooms. Guests, please go back to your cottages.”

Cecil said, “Who put you in charge?”

“The state of Georgia. I’m standing in until the sheriff arrives.” Will addressed the group. “I’m going to need to get statements from all of you.”

“Fuck no.” Drew turned toward Bitty, saying, “Ma’am, sorry for your loss, but we’ll be gone when the sun comes up. You can ship our bags back home. Charge our credit card. Forget about that other business. Do whatever you want up here. We don’t care.”

“Drew,” Will tried. “I need a witness statement, that’s all.”

“Oh hell no,” Drew said. “I don’t have to answer your questions. I know my rights. As a matter of fact, you don’t say shit to me or my wife from now on, Mr. Police Officer. You think I haven’t seen this Dateline before? It’s the people who look like us who end up going down for shit they had nothing to do with.”

Drew dragged Keisha back toward their cottage before Will could think of a reason to stop them. The door slammed so loudly that it sounded like a shotgun going off.

No one spoke. Will looked down the trail that led to cottage ten. The low lights showed the path was empty. He shouldn’t have let Sara go off on her own. This was taking too long.

“Officer?” Max, the wealthy lawyer from Buckhead, waited for Will’s attention. “While Syd and I firmly back the blue, we’ll also decline to be interviewed.”

Will had to stop this. “You’re all witnesses. No one has been designated a suspect. I need statements about what happened at dinner, and where everyone was after dinner.”

“What do you mean ‘where everyone was’?” This question came from Paul. His eyes shifted toward Gordon. “Are you asking us for alibis?”

Will scrambled to keep them from bolting. “Jon told us someone walks the Loop at eight in the morning and ten at night. Maybe they saw something.”

“It was Mercy,” Christopher said. “She was on the ten o’clock loop this week. I was on the eight.”

Will remembered Jon telling them the details, but he wanted to keep them talking. “What does that look like? Do you knock on doors?”

“No,” Christopher said. “People flag us down if they need anything. Or they leave notes on the stairs. There’s a rock you place over the paper to keep it from blowing away.”

“Look.” Monica had temporarily revived. She was pointing at their cottage. “We left a note under a rock on our porch around nine o’clock. It’s gone.”

Will guessed that was confirmation of life. “Did Mercy bring the thing you asked for?”

“No,” Frank glanced at Monica.