Where They Lie (Nora McTavish, #1)

by Joe Hart

A child, he thought, saying, “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday,” into the rain-flecked handset. There’d been a kid on the plane.

Oh no

We all think we have choices, and we do, but we’re flotsam too. At the whim of circumstance, the things inside us, something as irritating as chance.

Deep.

As a species we like spectacle along with the nice stories. We get off on it. As long as it’s not our issue, our problem, our pain. When it’s removed from us, it’s something else. It’s entertainment.

The bitter truth.

The truth was the system was deeply flawed because people were. The law is one size fits all, while reality is a series of chaotic events we raft through like white water. The difference is some people get handed life jackets while others are told they should’ve learned how to swim better.

She paused, struggling to see through her tears, to study the room as if trying to hold on to consciousness. “I tried . . . tried to stop her.”

Obviously she speaks of Andrea.

“Andrea,” she said, and found me with her drug-lacquered gaze one last time before drifting away. “Andrea did it.”

Clearly. Now the question is why?

Why. Why would Andrea crash the plane with her foster family on board? Why would she kill herself and throw everything away once her life finally seemed to be going right? Why?

Indeed.

Sometimes the heart hides. It hides in our dreams, our words, our passions.

We become passengers sometimes. We like to think we’re in control and the electrically charged tissue in our heads is the captain steering the ship. But sometimes an iceberg comes out of the fog, and evasive measures are taken. We’re suddenly the people holding on for dear life, hoping whoever’s driving knows what the fuck they’re doing.

And the second didn’t make sense. Someone had been in the house with me, had gone into Andrea’s room and escaped through the window before I could see who it was. And of all the things to take, why take what was missing? Why take the big purple teddy bear?

Hmmm. Camera in the bear?

Andrea didn’t really trust Kaylee.” “Why?” “She’s got issues.” “Like?” “Baggage. Andrea said she was fucked up from her childhood. She put everything on her YouTube channel trying to be ‘the perfect family.’” Taylor threw air quotes with her fingers.

Hmmmmmm. This is sus. What If Kaylee is the culprit this whole time? Trying to create content?

There comes a time in everyone’s life where they begin wondering what the point is. If they’re making a difference or just treading water. What was the point of work if it only funded a week’s vacation in some paradise where you could only ever be a visitor, never a resident? What good was it to hate waking up on Monday morning only to yearn for Friday night? If purpose became a perk not a prerequisite, what the hell were we even doing?

Sigh. So true.

How many brilliant people had fallen under the weight of unattainable desires? When you didn’t have opportunity, hope could become chains.

Thought-provoking and true.

The trick is finding a place so quiet, so full of solitude, you don’t have to think over the din—the noise other minds create. Your own creates enough by itself. Everyone should have a place to retreat to, somewhere unique that doesn’t belong to anyone, not even you. When there are no distractions, you can get down to business. Let the terrible things out of their cages you keep inside. Face them as fully as you can, let them hurt you. Bones are the strongest at a break site while they’re mending. Scar tissue is fibrous so it’s tougher than skin.

Wonderful analogy.

We’re told a life without pain is ideal. To avoid suffering as much as possible. But pain is where you grow. We cry with our first breaths because it hurts to expel amniotic fluid and take in air. No transition occurs without pain. It’s why liminal spaces are uniform and ambiguous—to lull before the change. Before the pain.

He glanced around. “You’re sure you didn’t see anything last night? Nothing identifying about whoever was outside? No suspicious cars or people?” “Other than you parked out front?” The words were out before I could stop myself.

Ugh seriously? Don't be a brat, Nora. Good gawd.

“Want me to stay over?” he asked after a beat. “No, I’m good.”

Ugh after all your internal whining about not having him?

“So what’s it gonna be?” he said finally. “What’s what gonna be?” “This. Us. You let me come over, we fuck, you kick me out. You call when you need something—” “I’ve never kicked you out, and I’m not sure it’s really a great time for this discussion.”

Ugh. Just break up with her, Byron. She's a mess. You deserve better.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I said, continuing to stack pictures in a little pile on the desk. “Ditto. I mean, we have a good time together, right? We get along.” I sat back on my haunches. “We do.” “But you won’t let me in.” “You’re in. You’re standing in my basement.” “You know what I mean.”

Omg she DOES know what you mean and is playing so dumb.

Taylor had answered a few of my questions via text. She was safe but needed to meet urgently. When I asked what it was about, her answer had been simply, Andrea.

I bet Andrea isn't even dead. Possibly not even Justin. Gasp. What if she and Justin were a thing? What if Justin's the secret man?

I considered going back to the car to get my phone and text Taylor again but decided to give her a little longer.

Why in the crap would you even leave your phone in the car in the first place? In what world does that make sense?

KAYLEE The way forward for me isn’t clear, but I’m so thankful to have your continual support and love. Knowing you’re all on the other end of these posts is what’s been keeping me sane the last week, so thank you, and goodbye for now.

This is her plan! Ohhh man, this woman is up to something. She's exploiting the tragedy to her benefit. She HAS to be responsible.

The nanny cam was hidden in the purple stuffed bear Bethany had appeared with in dozens of Kaylee’s posts. The purple bear that had been taken from Andrea’s room the night I’d been in the Volks’ house.

Knew there’d been a cam.

“It’s a miracle she survived. Twice in five years.” I was about to say goodbye but stopped cold. “What do you mean, ‘twice in five years’?” Natalie came back from wherever she’d gone. “Her car accident.”

I'm telling ya. It's all Kaylee. She's doing things for her channel.

Evan Baker. He’d been at the hospital visiting his sister just before I’d seen her. Kaylee had even said his name when I’d appeared at her door. Ev? Yet both had denied having anything to do with one another for years.

Damn, that's ONE thing I missed.

I took a breath. “It was Justin Volk. Andrea was seeing her foster father.”

Hah! Called it! lol wow. Go me.

“Andrea,” she finally blurted out, crying harder now. “I saw whoever broke in running away from the house, and—and it looked like Andrea.”

Hah!! I called Andrea still being alive too! So whose body washed up then?

The landscape flashed past as I formed what to say next. “She’s still alive. Andrea survived the crash.”

Exactly. But what about Justin?

“She must’ve seen Kaylee survived too,” I said, almost to myself. Some of the pieces were still falling into place. “That’s why she didn’t notify anyone. She saw that Kaylee was blaming her for the crash, but she didn’t do it. Andrea didn’t crash the plane.” I took a breath. “Kaylee did.”

Haha go me lol. Kaylee was the culprit the whole time.

Andrea watched Kaylee fall, then brought the gun to her head. “No!” I yelled, reaching for her, extending a hand for her to grab, something to hold on to. She pulled the trigger.

Oh man no!

He was seeing a nurse named Cindy and seemed happy. I was glad.

Good for Byron finding someone who appreciates him.

There are no words for what we do to each other. No words for what we are. Human beings are the strongest and weakest part of the world. And when they break, they shatter everything around them.