Dear Rachel,

Let me start by apologizing. I promised myself that I would respect your boundaries. I’ve restrained myself. I haven’t left letters on your car or anywhere else intrusive for some time. Yet here I am, downstairs in the lobby of your hotel, writing this note. I promise that I’ll leave it just outside your door, followed by a loud knock to ensure that you’ll get out of bed to collect it.

I’m ready to meet you, Rachel. Tonight. At the Morrison’s Point jetty. I’ll go there as soon as I drop off the letter. I know it’s late, but please come. I don’t think I can do this alone.

I know who killed Jenny. I’d tell the cops, but after watching the Scott Blair rape trial unravel, I’m not confident a jury would ever convict. The lack of forensic evidence and the passage of time would work against a successful prosecution. There’s one witness from the night Jenny was killed. A reluctant witness. A dying witness. You led me to him when I followed your car to the Golden Vista retirement home.

Rick saw Jenny’s killer. He told me so when I spoke with him this morning, after he was discharged from the hospital wing. At first Rick pleaded ignorance, but he eventually relented. He said that it didn’t much matter anymore if the truth came out. Apparently, he has weeks to live. “They can’t do anything to me in hell.” He laughed dryly. And then he told me what he remembered from that night. He told me the name of the boy he’d seen running away from the beach.

Thanks to Rick’s recollections, and my own hazy memories, I believe he’s right. The only way to find out for sure is to ask him straight out. To ask Jenny’s killer. His confession might be all we get.

Below is the letter that I’ve been writing to you over the past few days, about what happened the night that Jenny died. I wrote it in fits and starts, in different pens, and in handwriting that changed with my moods. I hope it’s legible enough for you to read.

* * *

After that drunk boy disconnected my call, he smashed the phone with the receiver until it was a mess of wires. When he was done, he kicked the glass phone booth door until it shattered. All the while, he held my upper arm so tightly that it was bruised for days afterward. My feet were bare. By the time he’d dragged me across the concrete toward the beach, the soles of my feet were slashed and embedded with glass.

He threw me on the sand next to Jenny. She was lying on the ground near the fire as the boys stood over her, drinking.

“Your little sister came to tell you that you need to go home.” He laughed. Jenny stared at me. The numb expression on her face turned to panic.

“She’s the kid sister,” said a drunk voice from the dark. “What do we do with her?”

“Let’s take a look at her. Maybe she’s old enough.”

I felt a hand grab my chest. “Flat as a pancake,” he said. “Definitely underage.”

He flicked up the skirt of my dress. I tried to pull it down. It made him laugh. He flicked it up again. I grabbed the folds of my dress and held them tightly to my body.

“What do we have here?” He pushed my hands away and pulled my skirt up anyway so they could all see my underwear.

“Hello Kitty panties. Such pretty panties.” He pulled me toward him and whispered into my ear with his stale drunken breath, “Do you know what a grown-up kitty is called?” I shook my head.

“Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Leave her alone. She’s just a kid.” Jenny’s voice was hoarse.

“I don’t do little girls,” said one. “That’s disgusting.”

“What do you think, Bobby?” the boy holding me called out. “Which do you prefer, big sister or little sister? You haven’t shown any interest in banging the big sister. Maybe you’d like to give the little one a go.”

“Leave her alone,” shouted Bobby.

“Are you sweet on her, Bobby?” the boy teased. “I always figured you liked them young,” he said, flicking up my skirt again and laughing as I tried to hold it down.

Bobby dived at the boy and pushed him to the ground. Those boys were strong, but nothing compared to Bobby Green in a rage. He punched one of them until he’d turned his face into a bloody pulp. One of the others kicked him in the ribs to get him to stop. They dived on him and rolled together in the direction of the bonfire until I heard Bobby scream. I didn’t know why until I smelled burning human flesh. After that, everything was a blur. There were panicked shouts about taking him to the hospital and howls of agonized pain from Bobby. They carried him to the truck. Someone ran back and kicked sand over the bonfire to douse the flames. It was the one who’d been driving the truck that very first day.

“You listen to me, you slutty little bitch,” he snarled, lifting up Jenny’s head by her hair as he spoke to her. “If you ever tell anyone what happened, then we’ll do to your little sister what we did to you. But worse. Much worse. Do you understand?”

Jenny nodded.

“You learn fast.”

He ran to join the others, leaving us lying in a heap on the beach, clutching each other as we watched the truck reverse, its headlights on as it sped out of the parking lot.

“Jenny,” I choked. “Are you all right? Let’s go home. Can you walk?”

“No,” she mumbled. “I need an ambulance.”

“The telephone booth is broken and there’s nobody around to help. I can’t get an ambulance.”

“The gas station,” she whispered. “It’s still open.”

“Come with me,” I sobbed. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Can’t walk.” Jenny groaned. “They’re gone now. I’ll be okay. I’ll wait for you here.”

Reluctantly, I left Jenny curled up on the beach and trudged through the sand. Sharp stones cut into my damaged feet as I crossed the parking lot and walked along the shoulder of the road to the gas station. I blocked the pain, focusing on getting to the gas station before it closed for the night.

It was shutting down when I arrived. Fortunately, a light by the cash register was still on. I entered through the automatic doors, unaware that I was leaving a trail of blood across the white-tiled floor. “We’re closed,” said Rick without looking up.

“I need help.” My voice trembled. Snot ran down my face, mixing with tears. “I need to call an ambulance.”

He looked up and saw the bloody trail that I’d left on the floor and immediately passed me the phone. While I dialed 911 and asked for an ambulance, I heard him complaining about the mess of blood and mud that he’d have to clean up. But by the time I’d hung up the phone, Rick seemed shamefaced at his initial reaction. He drove me back to the beach in his truck so I could wait with Jenny for the ambulance to arrive.

I jumped out when he pulled into the parking lot. I limped onto the beach toward the smoldering remnants of the bonfire. Jenny was all curled up in the same position that she’d been in when I’d gone to get help. It was only when I was very close that I understood that she wasn’t there at all. What I thought was Jenny was the shirt that Bobby had put over her to keep her warm.

“Jenny?” I called out. “Jenny?”

I wandered aimlessly across the beach, looking for Jenny, until the dark sky was colored by the bright lights of sirens. Uniformed figures ran down to the beach. I stumbled toward them, stuttering that my sister had gone missing. I shivered as I watched them stand on the beach and comb the water with powerful flashlights.

“I see something,” someone called out from near the jetty. He waded waist deep into the water, while another held his flashlight unsteadily pointing into the ocean.

I ran to the edge of the surf. The policeman who’d gone into the water was coming out, pulling something through the white foam of a broken wave. It was Jenny. Her blond hair had spread across the water like a mermaid.

“Jenny?” I screamed. Her eyes were open, but they were unblinking. “Jenny!”

I fell onto her the moment they pulled her out of the water. She was cold. Ice cold. Someone pulled me away from her. “She’s gone,” he said as I heard a siren approach. “She’s gone.”

I screamed, but not a sound came out.

52

Rachel

The jetty groaned under the assault of wind and midnight tides as Rachel walked into the black mist that shrouded the coastline.

When she reached the end of the jetty, she looked out to sea but saw nothing. It looked as if the ocean and the sky had merged into a black abyss. She stood with both hands on the rail, her face whipped by the icy Atlantic wind as she enjoyed the sensation of being alone with the elements.

A sliver of moon from a shifting cloud eased the darkness enough for Rachel to see her surroundings. That’s when she realized that she wasn’t alone. A figure in the corner had been observing her.