The Good Girls

Chpater 22

EVIE SAT ON A SWING in the playground a few blocks from her house. It was attached to a church, but only a few kids ever visited, so she always had the place to herself. She came here when she was feeling especially stressed, or when it felt like the walls in her house were closing in on her—which was, admittedly, quite often. Just sitting and swinging usually calmed her down, especially with the backdrop of the orange-and-purple sunset glittering through the clouds. But not tonight. Maybe not ever again. She felt scattered and horrible. She couldn't stand to be at home—with all the cats gone, her mom had done nothing but wail loudly about how it was all Evie's fault—but she couldn't go anywhere, either. Apparently, Social Services had been notified that there was a minor living in the cat-riddled house, and someone was supposed to come out and interview Evie soon, but that didn't make her feel better, either. So what—they'd send her to foster care? That hardly seemed like an improvement.

It felt like the whole world was closing in on her. She pulled out her phone and tried Mal one more time, but there was still no answer. Where was she? And what had she done?

Evie tried to go back to that horrible day on Tuesday, but she just couldn't. All kinds of horrible scenarios of what Mal might have done to Ashley siphoned through her thoughts like water. It was easier to try and block it out as best she could . . . at least until she got hold of Mal and asked her the truth. Then again, did she actually want to know the truth? She was undoubtedly an accessory in her friend's crime—if Mal had even done it. And if she hadn't, well, Evie still was an accessory to someone.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered Crystal's slack limbs and blue lips; the way her head bobbed and fell forward as Evie dragged her heavy body through the woods; the mud that covered Evie's feet after she weighed down the body and rolled Crystal into the river behind her house; the disgusting thunk of Crystal hitting the water. And then there was the deep abyss of thoughts that kept rearing their heads, scaring Evie even more: What about all the other awful things that had happened? Ben, Jay, Mal's father? Mal had hated all of them—could she have been the one behind all those murders? Evie had kept such poor tabs on her friend lately; whole days had gone by when she didn't know where Mal was. She had meant to be a better friend, to keep watch on Mal, but her personal life had spun out of control, and she hadn't been able to keep track of both of them.

But she hadn't thought Mal was off doing . . . this. Evie shut her eyes, terrified to even think it.

"Evie?"

She looked up sharply, then gasped. Doug stood at the edge of the playground, his arms at his sides. He was staring at her not unkindly, though he looked worried.

She jumped off the swing and grabbed her jacket off the nearby bench. "I have to go," she said abruptly, not meeting his eye.

"Wait!" He followed after her. "I want to talk to you."

Just a few days ago, the sound of his voice had made her heart skip a beat. Now she felt . . . nothing. "I can't see you anymore," she said bluntly.

Doug looked like he'd been slapped. "I don't understand," he said. "What did I do?"

Evie lowered her eyes. At first she'd thought Doug had baited her into going back to school as a favor to Crystal. A crazy thought, but she just didn't know who Crystal had under her thumb. But in one of the many messages Doug had left for Julie over the past few days, he'd somehow sensed she was worried about this and told her it absolutely wasn't true.

She believed him now, but it didn't matter. She couldn't be with him anymore. Doug may have been willing to understand that her mother was a hoarder, but there was no way he'd understand that she was now an accessory to murder. If he found out what she'd witnessed, what she'd done, well. He'd want nothing to do with her.

And Evie couldn't afford to be close to anyone except for Mal. She needed to protect her friend at all costs. She'd ruined Mal's life once; she wasn't doing it again. It was just easier this way.

She turned and faced him. "I just have a lot of stuff going on right now. I have to get my head straight. I'm sorry."

"Is it the cats stuff? Animal control? How are you holding up?"

Evie wanted to laugh. She wished her life was that simple. "It's not that," she said. "It's . . . complicated."

"I'm here to listen, though," Doug insisted, his voice gentle. "Who else do you have to talk to?"
"I'm fine." Evie shoved her hands in her pockets and walked on. "I have Mal."

Doug followed her. "Actually, Evie, we need to talk about Mal."

Evie whipped around, the blood draining from her face. What did Doug know? What was he suggesting? "No, we don't," she whispered, and then she started to run.

She careened down the block, her jacket flapping in her hands. The streetlights had come on, and she could barely see, but she didn't want to stop running until she got to her property. At one point, she peeked over her shoulder, relieved that Doug wasn't following her. We need to talk about Mal. She should have known better than to ever get involved with Doug. Now he was trying to interfere with her and Mal. She wasn't going to let anyone come between them.

Just as she reached her curb, her phone buzzed again. It was a text from Audrey, who'd been trying to reach her a lot lately. Leslie pushed off balcony, the text said. In a coma.

Evie's stomach swooped, and her knees felt wobbly. Another person off the list. This couldn't be happening. Then her heart stopped.

Could this be Mal's work, too?

She frantically dialed Mal for the millionth time. No answer. Spinning off her porch, she fled to her car and threw herself into the driver's seat. She had to go to Audrey's now.

Police cars and ambulances swarmed Audrey's picturesque suburban street, their lights casting an eerie-colored glow over the manicured lawns. Evie parked far away from Audrey's house and cut behind the neighboring houses, across the backyards, drawn forward though she wasn't sure what she was looking for. She reached the thicket of trees on a slight rise above Audrey's backyard and looked around, suddenly having a premonition. Mal was here somewhere.

She plunged into the woods. Only a hundred yards in, a familiar figure sat huddled at the base of a towering tree, rocking from side to side. Evie gasped. Mal's hoodie was pulled over her head, and her face was covered in dirt. Her eyes rolled upward. Just the sight of her brought Evie to her knees.

"Mal," Evie whispered as she squatted down. She pushed the hoodie back from Mal's face, but Mal didn't look at her. Evie put a hand on her arm. "Mal?" she whispered.

Mal continued to rock and mutter to herself, as if Evie wasn't even there. Evie leaned closer, panic rising in her chest. "Mal!" she cried, gripping Mal by the shoulders.

Mal stopped her movement and went quiet. She looked straight into Evie's eyes, her gaze suddenly lucid. "Evie," she whispered. "Oh my god, Evie." She sounded terrified.

Evie pulled her in and held her tightly. "It's okay, Mal. It's okay. I'm here."

Mal's face screwed up and she let out a loud sob. "I think I've done something awful. I think I've done a lot of something awful."