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wanted to follow up with the guests I spoke with yesterday, to provide answers and ease any concerns.
Guy Moran has been found. The lockdown will lift shortly.”
From what we can surmise, he fell while hiking, no doubt trying to escape on foot after dumping his car.”
I can say, with utmost certainty, that the Finch family has never been stunned into silence before.
Detective Diaz nods, her eyes locked onto mine. “Yes,” she says with a tight, professional smile. “He fell.”
“Ms. Finch, trust me when I say that he fell.
“A fall like that, it did some nasty damage, but I can’t say I’m sorry. Guy Moran wasn’t a good man. The hit-and-run? He left a teenager dead on the side of the road. Like she was trash. Don’t quote me on this, but he deserved worse than he got. An accident like that is far too fast for someone like him.”
“Do we think Diaz is looking the other way? There’s no chance that looked like an accident.”
“It’s over. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who moved Guy. Or who even killed him. It’s over.”
Grandma Helen is smacking Bill in the arm with her fanny pack, and I hear the end of her fervent, whispered sentence: “. . . him farther away from camp! What were you thinking?”
“Bill didn’t throw his back out having sex,” I say, my mouth dropping open. Bill told the truth yesterday. They didn’t go to bed until one in the morning. But not for the reasons we thought.
“I couldn’t let this family go to jail because of Guy Moran! Sue me.”
“Hold on,” Eliana says. “Start over from the beginning. You killed Guy?” Grandma Helen’s face pales. “Goodness no! Although I can’t say I blame whoever did. That boy was a menace. We properly hid the body after your parents dumped it in the middle of a goddamn hiking trail.” She turns to glance at Bill. “Or, at least, I thought we properly hid the body.”
Because until this moment, I thought you two killed Guy.” She gestures at her son and daughter-in-law.
Mom and Dad moved the body from the tent because they thought we killed him. But Grandma, you and Bill moved the body from the trail our parents dumped him on, because you thought they killed him?”
family sticks together! And I’ve always hated the Morans, Ernest. I’ve told you for years . . . that’s beside the point! I thought you were in danger, and I did what any good mother would do: I took care of it.” “Technically,” Bill says, “I took care of it.”
“Maybe,” I say, “Guy really did fall. That stick with the blood on it . . . he could’ve just bled onto it. We assumed that it was a weapon . . .” My words trail off as I frown. Does that mean we were partially responsible for Guy’s death?
“That, or something happened after the body fell down the ravine. The sleeping bag could’ve ripped off his body; maybe the water carried it away. We don’t know. We probably will never know, but this is a free pass that, frankly, none of us deserve. You all seriously messed up on this trip.” “Careful on that high horse,” I murmur to my sister. “Myself included,” Eliana adds with an annoyed wave of her hand. “But somehow, it’s all . . . okay.”
My paternal grandfather passed away when I was ten.
from the stories my father told—infrequent as they were—I got the vibe that he wasn’t a very nice man.
“Do you think I was right? That he fell or he was more injured than we thought?”
“I don’t know,” Eliana says, lips thinning as she presses them together. “I don’t want to think about it. It doesn’t matter anymore.” “I’m with Eli on this one,” Maeve says,
“Since everything is calming down,” Eliana says, her tone softer, more deferential, and I open my eyes, glancing over at her, “I really want to apologize for what I said earlier.”
Not only did I break my ankle, but I dislocated it too.
But there are too many unknowns for this trip to make any kind of logical sense, and I should be happy that I’ll be leaving Fallen Lake tomorrow with only a messed-up ankle. It could’ve been so much worse.
Should I resign from my job while high on painkillers? Probably not. But it’s happening.
Life is far too short to be spent miserable.
The amount of personal growth correlated with the accidental death of Guy Moran this weekend is a little disturbing, but hey, I can’t change my circumstances. And as loath as I am to admit it, I have a pattern with men.
Chad’s throwing a fit that he has to watch the kids another night.”
I’m pretty sure he’s gonna back off the whole custody situation once I get home.”
“Guess this weekend wasn’t all bad.”
“Is it just me, or did we all completely forget about Guy’s phone?” She holds up the fancy iPhone, which must’ve fallen out of my bag. “Not just you,” I say, then push myself upright. Finding Guy’s phone feels like a discovery from weeks ago—not yesterday. “We should probably get rid of it.” Eliana tucks one leg beneath her on the bed. “Definitely.”
together we read what exactly Guy Moran did.
But I don’t feel any worse about Guy’s death as I read what happened on the night of July 3rd.
“According to this,” Eliana says, “his death was officially ruled an accident.” “Good,” Maeve says
The article also named Diaz as the detective on the case, and I think back to earlier this afternoon. She knew it wasn’t an accident.
Detective Diaz writing her own ending to Guy’s story wasn’t ethical or moral or good, but I don’t blame her. Even if I hadn’t been involved, I wouldn’t blame her.
everything. But if you’re ever up in the Seattle area, let me know. This weekend was . . . honestly kind of wild, but it was also the most fun I’ve had in months. Is that messed up to admit?” “Seattle?” I repeat with a scrunched brow. “Don’t you work here?”
My next is up north, working at a few parks in the Seattle area, mainly Discovery Park.”
“My new job,” I say, and force the words out because the new version of me doesn’t self-sabotage like it’s her favorite hobby, “is in Seattle.”
Because Leo’s unattainability was comforting, yes, but I think it was holding me back a little. I like him. A lot. Too much, given the circumstances. And maybe whatever this is will have the chance to grow and expand, and sure, Leo might have absolutely no interest in me beyond sex, or even if he does, we could be an absolute disaster together, but I won’t lie: I really want to find out. “Any chance you’d want to go out on a date that doesn’t take place at a dive bar or a Dairy Queen?” Leo asks, and this time, it’s my turn to kiss him.
“Lindy, you’re saying that’s your phone? We found it near Guy Moran’s body.” Aunt Lindy’s face whitens. “His body? Oh dear,” she murmurs beneath her breath.
“Oh dear. I really hoped I’d imagined . . .”
“I . . . think I killed Guy?”
I was enjoying my cigarette when this man came running at me,” she says, and presses her eyes shut tight. “He was bloody, and I was so scared! He was coming right at me, so I grabbed a stick off the ground and whacked him! Then I ran off to my campsite. The next morning, I went back . . . I thought I imagined the whole thing when there was no one there, no sign of anything. So, I told myself I imagined it.”
“Oh my god, I’m a murderer! A murderess!” She hangs her head between her knees, hyperventilating now.
“Guy wasn’t a good person. He was the fugitive the cops were looking for, because of a hit-and-run,”
“Guy was bleeding because we got into a fight with him before he ran into you. His wound must’ve been worse than we thought if it just took one more blow to . . .”
“We tried to help Guy, when we saw that he was hurt, but he took off. Didn’t want us to call the cops, which makes even more sense now that we know about the warrant. I
can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been when you saw him running at you.” “I just . . . reacted,” whispers Aunt Lindy,
