Authors: Terri Garey
The deputy peered in at Randy, while more sirens sounded in the distance. “What kind of trouble you got yourself into now, Randy? Didn’t that DUI you got last month slow you down none?”
In a town the size of Hogansville, it made sense that Randy and the deputy knew each other.
“It weren’t my fault, Dwayne.” Randy’s tone was whiny now. “My headlights weren’t workin’. Get me outta here, would ya?”
Deputy Dwayne turned away from Randy, muttering under his breath. “Stupid shit. Only a matter of time before something like this happened.”
The ambulance was in sight now, sirens wailing noisily as they came up the road. The deputy flagged them over with a raised arm, as though they couldn’t see the truck wrapped around the tree or his cruiser sitting there, lights flashing.
“It gets worse, Deputy,” Joe said. “This man just confessed to me that he murdered someone. A woman.”
That stopped Deputy Dwayne in his tracks. “That
so?” he asked, shooting Randy a glance. I couldn’t help but notice the skeptical tone in his voice. “We don’t get many murders around these parts.”
The ambulance rolled to a stop and turned off the siren, leaving blessed silence in its wake.
“Well, you’ve got one now,” Joe answered the deputy firmly. “Just before you got here he confessed to murdering a woman named Michelle.”
From my hiding place in the bushes, I watched as Randy’s eyes got big. Now that help had arrived, he was obviously having second thoughts about his confession.
“I—I don’t know what he’s talking about, Dwayne,” he shouted, still trapped in the truck. “What kind of crazy talk is that?”
Shit.
What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t step out from the bushes and terrorize Randy in front of the deputy and the paramedics, who were already out of the ambulance and on the way over.
Joe’s face reflected my thoughts. One quick glance in my direction before he looked away, but I knew he was warning me to stay put.
“I’m telling you the truth, Officer. This man told me he murdered a woman and dumped her body in a pond. I’m willing to swear to it in a court of law.”
Deputy Dwayne didn’t answer. His jaw worked, but I was willing to bet it wasn’t gum he was chewing on. He confirmed it when he leaned to one side and spit. No self-respecting Georgia lawman would be caught without his chewing tobacco.
The paramedics had reached the truck, an older man with a crewcut and younger guy with a mullet. The older guy eyed Joe and his stethoscope, and Joe spoke to him automatically, though he kept his gaze trained
on the deputy. “Broken or bruised ribs, possible fracture of the right tibia. No sign of chest compression, concussion, or spinal injuries.”
“You mean I ain’t gonna die?” Randy’s face showed his relief. He even ventured a weak half smile, while my heart sank.
Surely he wasn’t going to get away with this…surely this whole muddy, messy, dramatic evening hadn’t been for nothing…
A blast of music startled me, making me jump. It startled everyone else, too, and masked the rustling I’d made in the bushes. It was the radio in Randy’s truck.
Music and voices blurred into a solid stream of noise, as though the radio was scanning through stations, very fast. Everyone stood frozen, listening, until the scanning stopped.
Clear as a bell, loud in the stillness, came a familiar voice, singing a familiar tune that raised the hair on my arms.
“Every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you.”
Sting, singing “Every Breath You Take.”
Randy looked like a deer in the headlights, staring at the radio as if he expected it to bite him.
“Every single day, every word you say, every game you play, every night you stay, I’ll be watching you.”
Michelle was still here. I knew it, and Randy knew it, and the knowledge proved too much for him.
“All right, all right!” he shrieked. “I did it! I killed her!”
The older paramedic drew back, looking first at Randy, then at Deputy Dwayne.
“You got somethin’ you need to get off your chest, boy?” Dwayne asked Randy, shooting Joe a glance before he moved toward the truck.
“Michelle,” Randy babbled, still staring at the radio. “Her name’s Michelle. I don’t even know her last name—she’s a friend of Debbie Hathaway’s. She’s in the pond back at the body shop.”
I breathed a silent sigh of relief, and looked at Joe. He flicked his eyes toward where he’d left his car, and I got the message; time for all good ghouls to hit the road.
I wanted to celebrate, to throw my arms around him and kiss him to thank him for helping me, but now was not the time. Instead, I ducked down and scrambled away as quietly as I could. Once I was far enough away, I stood up and took off at a run toward the One-Stop Body Shop.
Joe could handle it from here, I had no doubt.
But the evening wasn’t over yet. I was at the hose, quickly wiping the mud from my face and arms with Joe’s newly rinsed t-shirt when Michelle showed herself one final time.
Or tried to show herself, anyway. Her form was hazy, indistinct, and I couldn’t help but be a little relieved; she’d been looking pretty bad since she knew she’d been murdered, and I didn’t want to see any more. I’d had enough of a creep show for one evening.
“Something’s happening to me,” Michelle said. Even her voice sounded fuzzy. “I feel like I have to be somewhere, but I’m not sure where it is.”
I smiled, knowing the place Michelle was being drawn to was a good place. “It’s okay, Michelle.” I kept my voice gentle. “It’s time for you to go now. Just close your eyes and let go, and all of this will seem like a bad
dream. Only this time, when you wake up, it will be to a better place.”
It would be in the Light, which was a very good place, indeed. I wasn’t sure I had the words to describe it, but I didn’t really need to. Michelle would find out soon enough. I couldn’t believe that the innocent victim of such a horrible crime would go anywhere else.
“Nice trick with the radio, by the way,” I added.
“Thanks.”
I could hear the smile in her voice, and it made me happy.
“Could you do me one final favor?”
Repressing a tired sigh, I answered, “Sure.”
“I don’t want Debbie thinking that I died mad at her,” Michelle said. “I know her…if we leave things on a sour note, she’ll blame herself for what happened to me. If I told you what to say, would you say it?”
Great—how was I supposed to do that?
Walk up to Debbie at her wedding and tell her I had a message from the “other side”? Par for the course, I suppose. How ironic that in a family of rednecks,
I’d
managed to become the one everybody considered strange.
Hell, I’d figure something out.
With a shrug, I said, “What do you want me to tell her?”
“Calm down, Debbie,” Darlene said. “Just because that idiot Randy had to get himself busted up and in the hospital right before the wedding doesn’t mean the wedding’s ruined.” She shot me a look over Debbie’s head as she was adjusting her sister’s veil.
Darlene was the only one who knew the truth about why Randy wasn’t here. I’d called her yesterday and asked her to meet me for coffee—then I’d told her what happened in the parking lot of the Long Branch Saloon when Randy’d attacked me. I’d fudged about why Joe and I had followed Randy to the One-Stop Body Shop, claiming it was because he was so drunk we were worried about him causing an accident, but I’d told the truth about how Randy, afraid he was about to die, had confessed to murdering Michelle. I’d appealed to Darlene’s sisterly instincts, getting her to agree that Debbie didn’t need to know the dirty details about Michelle until after she and Dale got back from their honeymoon.
Truth be told, I’d done it more for Michelle’s sake than Debbie’s—it had been Michelle’s last wish to not ruin her best friend’s wedding, and I’d done my best to honor that.
Darlene had surprised me; she’d shed a few genuine tears for Michelle before she’d blistered my ears with some well-deserved names for Randy, a few of which I’d never heard before. Then she’d picked up the phone and taken things one step further—her defensive instincts had kicked into high gear, and she wasn’t about to let her baby sister’s wedding be ruined. It turned out that she used to date the Hogansville Chief of Police, and she’d called in a favor by asking him to keep news of Randy’s arrest under wraps until after the wedding. Hard to do in a small town like Hogansville, but the now-married chief didn’t stand a chance against a determined Darlene. As far as Debbie and everyone else knew, Randy was in the hospital after wrapping his truck around a tree, period. Anybody who spilled the beans about Michelle’s murder before the wedding was going to have a pissed-off red-haired spitfire on their hands.
Darlene was still breathing fire a day later in the dressing room in the back of the church, though she’d used up most of it on the florist, who’d showed up late to decorate. To Debbie, however, she’d been nothing but sweet, helping her dress and fussing over her like a mother hen.
“But now the procession is ruined,” Debbie fretted. “There’s four bridesmaids and only three groomsmen; even if Nicki walks down by herself, the ceremony will end up lopsided, and so will the pictures afterward.”
I seized my chance. “I don’t mind not being in the wedding, Debbie. If I dropped out, the wedding party
would be even again.” I waved a hand toward the pink sundress and sandals I was wearing. “I’m not even dressed yet, so it’s no big deal.” I’d put off wearing the ugly yellow dress until the last possible second, and it looked like it might pay off.
Darlene shot me a sardonic, knowing glance, but kept her mouth shut.
Unfortunately, Aunt Nadine, who’d been fussing over the bridal bouquets, was not about to let me off the hook. “Of course you’re going to be in the wedding, Nicki. You’re family. I only wish my sister Emily had lived to see this day.” Aunt Nadine’s lip quivered, and I knew I was sunk. “All five of our girls together, sharing this joyous occasion.”
Crap.
Easy for Aunt Nadine to talk; she looked pretty in rose-colored silk, while I had to wear one of the most hideous bridesmaid dresses I’d ever seen. “You’d better get moving, Nicki; the wedding starts in ten minutes.”
The atmosphere in the tiny dressing room at the back of the church was hectic—it was crammed to the gills with women in various stage of undress. Aunt Nadine bent to help my niece Brittany, who made a cute flower girl, while Donna and Diane bickered over whose hat belonged to who.
“Everything will be fine, Debbie,” Darlene said, sliding home the final hairpin that held her sister’s veil in place. The yellow bridesmaid dress I hated looked surprisingly good on her, which tipped me off as to who’d picked it out. The yellow hat brought out the auburn in her red hair. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Can somebody zip me?” whined cousin Donna. “I don’t think Bebe got my measurements right.”
“If you’d put the Twinkies down once in a while she
wouldn’t have had to keep letting it out,” Diane snipped, turning her sister around in order to oblige.
“At least I ain’t a bean pole,” Donna snipped back. “Men like a woman with a little meat on their bones.”
“Would you two just stop it?” The bride’s nerves were obviously frayed, and her sisters’ squabbling wasn’t helping. “You’re ruining my big moment!”
“Huh,” Diane muttered. “Only thing big around here is Donna’s butt.”
“I heard that,” Donna shrilled. “Mama, did you hear what she said to me?”
“Now girls,” Aunt Nadine began, but I tuned them out, resigned to my fate. With a sigh, I grabbed the hanger that held my dress and went down the hall to the ladies’ room to get dressed.
Forget the bride. Right now
I
was the one who needed a moment.
The wedding went off without a hitch, if you ignored little Brittany bursting into tears halfway down the aisle and throwing her basket of flower petals on the carpet. Darlene took it in stride, catching her daughter by the hand and dragging her along to one of the front pews to be snagged by an elderly woman who shushed her with hugs and kisses. By the time I started down the aisle, bringing up the rear behind my three cousins, Brittany’s tantrum had subsided to sniffles, barely heard above the processional music.
The church was packed. It looked like the whole town had turned out for Debbie’s wedding, and I was glad. It was her big day, pineapple dresses, flowered hats and all.
There was Joe, smiling at me from a pew, tall and
handsome in a pinstriped suit and the vintage Hermes tie I’d given him for the occasion. I tried not to look at Evan, knowing he’d make me laugh, but couldn’t help but notice how fabulous he looked in a untucked fitted buttondown and gray silk blazer. His boyfriend Butch stood next to him, bald head gleaming, muscular shoulders straining the fabric of his coat, a single daisy pinned to his lapel.
Then I was at the front of the church, taking my place next to Diane. Silence for a moment, broken only by a final sniffle from Brittany, and the wedding march began. Despite my desire to be somewhere else, wearing something else (
anything
else), I felt my heart swell along with the music.
Nicholette Nadine Styx, romantic sucker extraordinaire.
A shuffle of feet as everyone rose, and all heads turned toward the rear of the church. All heads except Joe’s, that is. He was looking at me. I gave him a wink, and was rewarded by the way his smile deepened, warming me to my toes. I might look like a pineapple piñata in a borrowed dress, but Joe didn’t seem to mind.
Debbie was glowing, trembling on the arm of my Uncle John as he walked her down the aisle. I shot a glance at Dale where he stood at the altar, a band of white showing on his forehead where his hat usually rode. The pants of his rented tuxedo were hemmed too short, and the sleeves too long, but he was beaming as he watched Debbie come toward him.
The church organ was only slightly off-key. I risked a glance at Evan, not surprised to find him clutching at Butch’s arm, a bit dewey-eyed as he watched the bride. I was quite familiar with his fairytale visions of me in white and him in Armani—we’d talked about
our ideal weddings since we were kids in junior high school.
Evan caught me looking at him, but he just arched a blond eyebrow, then turned his gaze back to the altar.
A lump rose in my throat as Uncle John said the words that gave Debbie away, placing her hand in Dale’s.
My dad would never get a chance to do that.
He and my mom had died together on that wet stretch of road seven years earlier. It was my only comfort, knowing they’d died as they’d lived, together.
I missed them so much.
And then it was time for the vows, which I only half-listened to. My attention was distracted by a shaft of light that came through the stained glass window over the altar. Dust motes sparkled, twisting and spinning, and then there she was—though no one could see her but me.
Michelle, dry and smiling, come to watch her best friend get married.
Her form was vague, indistinct, wavering like a mirage in the beam of light that carried her. I knew what it must cost her to fight the pull of the Light, to anchor herself here for however long it took to see Debbie wed.
But she did, and when it was over, when the “I do’s” had both been said, she turned to me with a smile and mouthed, “Thank you.”
To my eyes, Michelle looked like she did that day in the bridal shop, before she knew she was dead—young and carefree and smiling. I gave her a little nod, then jerked my chin toward the stained glass window, trying hard not to cry.
Time to get going, ghoulfriend.
Then she was gone, and the recessional march was playing, and we all stood up to watch Debbie and her redneck prince leave the church in triumph.
The reception was held right there at the church, in a big meeting room right off the kitchen. Dale and Debbie danced their first dance to “Can You Feel The Love Tonight,” and the funny thing was, I did. The way they looked at each other was really sweet, and I even dared hope that they’d be happy together.
Maybe their particular litter of little rednecks wouldn’t be so bad.
My Aunt Nadine and Uncle John were both beaming; flower girl Brittany had forgotten her tantrum and was being chased around the tables by her sister Amber; Donna and Diane squabbled amiably over how much rum was needed to thoroughly spike the punch.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends, Nicki?” Darlene had stopped by our table with a plateful of food from the buffet. She’d already met Joe—I’d introduced him after he’d waited patiently in the front pew during our interminable post-wedding photo session. Now she was eyeing both Evan and Butch with interest.
“Yes, this is my partner, Evan Owenby,” I said, patting Evan fondly on the arm. “And this is
his
partner, Butch.” I leaned in toward Darlene, remembering what she’d said to me at the shower, and stage-whispered, “That’s what we’re supposed to be calling it these days.”
To her credit, Darlene just cut her eyes at me and laughed, extending a hand to Evan and Butch in turn. “I’m Darlene,” she said, “Nicki’s favorite cousin.”
“Have a seat, Darlene.” Joe rose, pulling out a chair for my cousin like the gentleman he usually was. “Join us.”
And to my surprise, she did. We were laughing and chatting with surprising ease, when Debbie came over to our table, flushed and happy.
“I have
got
to sit down,” she said, fanning herself with a hand. “I need to catch my breath.”
Evan leapt up before Joe did and pulled out a chair for her. “You sit right next to me,” he said gallantly, “and tell me
all
the details about your bee-
yoo
-tiful wedding.
Love
the dress. Who did the catering?”
I saw Butch’s arm move toward Evan, and knew they were holding hands beneath the table. Both men listened, spellbound, as Debbie held court, while Joe and I exchanged smiles.
Barely a minute passed before my Aunt Nadine came bustling over. “Don’t get too comfortable, sweetie. It’s almost time to cut the cake,” she said to Debbie. Glancing around, she added distractedly, “I can’t believe Michelle isn’t here. Even if you two had a little spat, surely she could’ve made it to the reception.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Debbie said cheerfully. “She’s with us in spirit.”
Darlene froze, fork halfway to her mouth, but I bit back another smile, knowing what was coming.
“I got a text message from her last night,” Debbie went on. “She was really sorry for acting like such a bi—” Debbie caught herself, shooting her mother a guilty glance. Apparently getting married didn’t change the normal mother/daughter dynamic. “Like such a twit. She apologized, and we’re cool, but she was too embarrassed to face everybody after bailing on me at the last minute.”
Darlene couldn’t help herself. She lowered her fork and asked, “Are…are you sure it was Michelle?”
“Of course it was her; my cellphone has caller ID. Besides, who else would it be, silly?” Debbie grinned at her sister. “Michelle was probably worried that
somebody
might make a scene.”
Darlene gasped in outrage, ready to spit fire, but she just happened to catch my eye, and subsided. Instead, she took a big bite of potato salad, chewing determinedly, a fixed look on her face.
“Well,” Aunt Nadine said, sounding doubtful, “I’m just surprised, that’s all. It’s not like Michelle to miss something as big as this—she’s your best friend.”
“It’s okay,” Debbie said, rising to her feet with a smile on her face. “Michelle and I are good. We’ll kiss and make up in person when Dale and I get back from our honeymoon. Now let’s go cut the cake.”
Darlene waited until Debbie moved away, then swallowed her potato salad hastily. She leaned over to hiss, “How could Debbie have possibly gotten a text message from Michelle last night?”
I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe she sent it earlier and the message was delayed or something. I imagine the cellphone service here in Hogansville can be pretty spotty.”
Darlene eyed me narrowly, sensing bullshit when she heard it, but there was nothing she could do about it. Donna called her name, urging her over to the cake table, and she went, but not without shooting me one final glance over her shoulder.
“Text message, hm?” Joe murmured in my ear. “Aren’t you the clever one? How’d you manage that?”
Bebe of Bebe’s Bridal had been all too happy to turn over Michelle’s cellphone when I’d gone back to the
store to pick up my dress. I’d told her Michelle asked me to get it for her (which was true), and that was that.
As to the actual message, I knew it by heart, since I was the one who’d typed it:
SRY 4 BEING SUCH A SHIT, G/F. PLS 4GIVE ME. SRY TO MISS WEDDING, BUT WILL BE W/U IN SPIRIT, I PROMISE. LUV U 4 EVAH! BFF, CHELLE