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Authors: Kara Thomas
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the sound of the clock’s second hand hangs in the air like a bomb ticking.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I was just a little kid, and I could have been wrong about seeing his face. Of course, I
thought
I did—Stokes was like the bogeyman, and I was so scared that he’d come after Lori after what he’d said to her.”
Angry tears stream down her pink cheeks. She’s not looking at me anymore.
Is that why you shut me out?
I want to ask.
You thought I knew you lied?
“Even if I was wrong,” Callie says, “there was evidence he killed those other girls. He didn’t even get up on the stand and deny it. They had enough to convict him.”
“Maybe,” I say. But I don’t know if I’ve ever fully believed that. Not with the things I know about how that night really went down.
The things that the jury didn’t hear. The things that Callie still doesn’t know.
I swallow and bunch up the comforter in my fist.
“What did you tell them?” Callie whispers. “When they asked you what you saw?”
“I said you woke me up and said someone was outside,” I say. “The person ran around the side of the yard. I had heard you say it was Stokes, and the police kept hammering it into us that our stories had to match.”
I pick a pill of fleece off the comforter and flick it away. “So I said it was Stokes. Even though I never saw their face.”
“
His
face,” Callie says.
I’m quiet for a beat.
“You don’t think Stokes did it,” Callie finally whispers. Her face says what I feared, that this is the ultimate betrayal of the Greenwoods. It’s one thing to question what we saw that night, but in this house “Wyatt Stokes is the Ohio River Monster” is an irrefutable fact.
Y
equals
y
.
“I just want to know what really happened,” I say. The truth is, I
have
to know. Some days I think I’ll explode from not knowing.
“If this means the real Monster is still out there, we have to figure out what really happened,” I correct myself. “He could go after other girls. Maybe he never stopped, and the police just haven’t found those girls yet.”
I swallow away the sick taste in my mouth. I think of all the girls no one would miss, what’s left of them washed away with the detritus from the river.
“You mean we have to take back our statements,” Callie whispers. “My family would never forgive me.”
“No. We can’t do that unless we’re absolutely sure,” I say. “We have to be sure.”
“How are we going to do that?” Callie wraps her arms around her middle. “It happened almost
ten years ago.
If someone besides us saw something, they would have said something back then.”
The pit in my stomach grows. “Unless they had a reason to stay quiet.”
“Where would we even start?” Callie says. “You’re talking about finding a
murderer.
”
Or murderers.
I don’t dare say it—that it’s possible Lori wasn’t killed by the Monster at all, but by someone who wanted to make it seem that way.
I wipe my palms on the knees of my pajamas. The room feels like a sauna—small, suffocating. “We were there when Lori was taken. There has to be something we missed…something that could help us put everything together.”
“But you’re going home tomorrow,” Callie says.
It feels weird, hearing someone call Florida
home.
For me, it’s always been where Gram’s house is. A pit stop along the way in this giant circle I’m walking.
Because Fayette isn’t home either. It’s just the place where I started. The place I’d do anything to leave behind for good. And if Callie and I make this whole thing with Stokes right, then maybe I’ll be able to.
“I’ll reschedule my flight,” I say.
“Okay.” A breath leaves Callie in a low hiss. “So where do we start?”
“I don’t know yet.”
It’s a lie, spun out of the truth I’ve been holding on to all these years. The part of the story I didn’t tell the prosecutors because I didn’t want her to get in trouble and
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I was just a little kid, and I could have been wrong about seeing his face. Of course, I
thought
I did—Stokes was like the bogeyman, and I was so scared that he’d come after Lori after what he’d said to her.”
Angry tears stream down her pink cheeks. She’s not looking at me anymore.
Is that why you shut me out?
I want to ask.
You thought I knew you lied?
“Even if I was wrong,” Callie says, “there was evidence he killed those other girls. He didn’t even get up on the stand and deny it. They had enough to convict him.”
“Maybe,” I say. But I don’t know if I’ve ever fully believed that. Not with the things I know about how that night really went down.
The things that the jury didn’t hear. The things that Callie still doesn’t know.
I swallow and bunch up the comforter in my fist.
“What did you tell them?” Callie whispers. “When they asked you what you saw?”
“I said you woke me up and said someone was outside,” I say. “The person ran around the side of the yard. I had heard you say it was Stokes, and the police kept hammering it into us that our stories had to match.”
I pick a pill of fleece off the comforter and flick it away. “So I said it was Stokes. Even though I never saw their face.”
“
His
face,” Callie says.
I’m quiet for a beat.
“You don’t think Stokes did it,” Callie finally whispers. Her face says what I feared, that this is the ultimate betrayal of the Greenwoods. It’s one thing to question what we saw that night, but in this house “Wyatt Stokes is the Ohio River Monster” is an irrefutable fact.
Y
equals
y
.
“I just want to know what really happened,” I say. The truth is, I
have
to know. Some days I think I’ll explode from not knowing.
“If this means the real Monster is still out there, we have to figure out what really happened,” I correct myself. “He could go after other girls. Maybe he never stopped, and the police just haven’t found those girls yet.”
I swallow away the sick taste in my mouth. I think of all the girls no one would miss, what’s left of them washed away with the detritus from the river.
“You mean we have to take back our statements,” Callie whispers. “My family would never forgive me.”
“No. We can’t do that unless we’re absolutely sure,” I say. “We have to be sure.”
“How are we going to do that?” Callie wraps her arms around her middle. “It happened almost
ten years ago.
If someone besides us saw something, they would have said something back then.”
The pit in my stomach grows. “Unless they had a reason to stay quiet.”
“Where would we even start?” Callie says. “You’re talking about finding a
murderer.
”
Or murderers.
I don’t dare say it—that it’s possible Lori wasn’t killed by the Monster at all, but by someone who wanted to make it seem that way.
I wipe my palms on the knees of my pajamas. The room feels like a sauna—small, suffocating. “We were there when Lori was taken. There has to be something we missed…something that could help us put everything together.”
“But you’re going home tomorrow,” Callie says.
It feels weird, hearing someone call Florida
home.
For me, it’s always been where Gram’s house is. A pit stop along the way in this giant circle I’m walking.
Because Fayette isn’t home either. It’s just the place where I started. The place I’d do anything to leave behind for good. And if Callie and I make this whole thing with Stokes right, then maybe I’ll be able to.
“I’ll reschedule my flight,” I say.
“Okay.” A breath leaves Callie in a low hiss. “So where do we start?”
“I don’t know yet.”
It’s a lie, spun out of the truth I’ve been holding on to all these years. The part of the story I didn’t tell the prosecutors because I didn’t want her to get in trouble and
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