Such a Quiet Place by Megan Miranda

CHAPTER 16

SILENCE.

It stretched up the road and around the corner. No doors opening or closing, or neighbors calling to one another, or voices carrying from backyards or open windows. It moved through with a heavy warning, a physical presence—something worth heeding.

This was the opposite of what had happened after the Truetts, the way we had all called to one another, reached for one another, arms entwining in comfort and relief. The feel of skin on skin, reminding us that we were alive.

The message board back then had been full of notes. All of us checking in: What happened? Who noticed? Oh my God, is everyone else okay? The calls, the texts, the community growing even closer in the aftermath, at first.

Now the message board was empty. Not only that, someone had gone through and deleted every previous post.

Even my house was eerily quiet. Nothing but a drip coming from the kitchen, the click of something mechanical in the living room walls. Like time had frozen last night with Ruby’s death. Her purple insulated cup that I’d dropped in the sink when I’d first returned, my flip-flops kicked off by the front door, beside the pool bag. I couldn’t bear to move anything.

My phone rang from the spot beside me on the couch, Mac’s name on the display. “Hey, you okay?” he asked as soon as I picked up.

“Yeah, I mean. I don’t know. I think so.” My own voice seemed to carry in the silence.

“I wanted to come by last night to check on you, but the police were outside. I didn’t want them to see me going to your house after they took all the statements,” he said.

“No, that’s fine. That’s okay.” I cleared my throat. “How are you?”

I heard him breathing into the phone. “It’s crazy. I can’t believe it. Did you see what happened?”

“No, I was back at the house. I’d left early.”

“Me, too,” he said. “As soon as the fireworks were over. I told the police that. I didn’t see anything. Preston and his date barely made it through the fireworks show before leaving, too. Charlotte didn’t see anything.” A pause. “None of us did.”

“You talked to them?” I’d gone straight back home on autopilot after giving my statement. Had walked upstairs and stood in the shower until my skin had begun to prune. Had found myself in her room after, in her bed, staring up.

“For a little bit, outside, yeah. After we gave our statements. Listen,” he said, and his voice dropped, his mouth pressed closer to the phone. “No one said anything.”

In the silence, I imagined what he was implying: my fight with Ruby; the things we’d said or at least insinuated; the way she’d turned on all of us, fingers pointed and accusations hurled.

“No one is going to say anything,” he added, like a promise.

I felt a lump in my throat. Felt the memory of Charlotte’s hand squeeze my shoulder, Preston chuck me under the chin, Chase lean against the gate beside me. “What happened to her? Did the police say anything?”

“No one knows. Maybe it was the alcohol. She was drinking so much she could barely stand. Tina said she had thrown up. And she was lying on her back…” His words trailed off, and I saw her there, head tipped back, the red glow of the fireworks reflecting on her exposed skin—

“And none of us checked,” I said.

“Harper,” he said, gentle and close, like he was propped up on one elbow beside me in bed. I closed my eyes, thinking how easy it would be to slide back into this. “Don’t do this to yourself. You’re a really good person, and you did all you could for her.”

But I hadn’t. I’d needed her gone. Told her she was a terrible fucking person. Wanted her far away and out of my life, never to return.

“What did she say to you down by the lake?” I asked, thinking that whatever she’d confided to him there were the last words she’d ever spoken.

“Nothing really,” he said, but I was picturing his arms wrapped around her, the way her body had folded into his. “She was drunk, and sad, and not really making any sense.”

“Shit,” I said, hearing the catch in my voice.

He sighed. “I’ll come by tonight, okay? Help you go through her things? I’ll even bring dinner.”

The silence was messing with my thoughts—a buzzing in my head I couldn’t contain, an emptiness that only seemed to expand. But Ruby’s things were already packed up, and I’d ended things with Mac. I didn’t want to go back. “I’m doing that now,” I said. “But thanks for the offer.”

The doorbell rang, jarring me back to the present. “I gotta go,” I said before hanging up.

From my spot on the couch, I opened the laptop to see who was out there. A man I didn’t know stood on my porch, looking up at the camera—staring back.

I KNEW THEY’D BEcoming.

The police had taken our statements the previous night when we were all out there, in the street. They’d looked at the angle of the houses, the corners of the clubhouse, asking if there was any footage.

But it was Margo who shook her head. Who explained it was a policy not to record at the pool, where we were half-dressed. Who shared that none of the houses on the street had a good angle anyway.

The group of officers from the Lake Hollow Police Department scanned the crowd of us, and we stared back, wide-eyed and silent. Every one of us understanding: She had died in plain sight, with no one noticing, in the one place there were no cameras, with no witnesses.

How very different from what the police had experienced after the Truetts’ deaths. Where everyone here was a witness with something to say, something to share, something to prove.

So I was not surprised to see a man on my front step now. This man, so obviously part of the investigation with his gray button-down and black tie, regardless of the soaring temperature and humidity. This was where Ruby had been staying, and I’d told them as much last night.

When I opened the door, I tried to place him from the sea of faces last night. But he seemed out of place, a stranger. Last time, Chase Colby had been part of the investigating team—to put people at ease, we thought. But also, as we learned, to gain access. To share what he learned on the message board, send the detectives our way. To save the recordings we’d posted from our security cameras and forward them to his superiors.

“Ms. Nash?” the man said, rocking back on his heels. “I’m Jay Locke, a special agent with the Bureau of Criminal Investigation. We’re with the state police. Can I have a moment of your time?” He looked to be about my father’s age, silver hair streaking through the brown, a weathered face, sharp blue eyes.

“Yes, I’m Harper.” I opened the door farther, but he lingered on the front porch. His shoes were a shiny black, unmarred, and a dark car with tinted windows was parked behind him at the curb.

He smiled. Then he leaned backward and jabbed a finger at the camera over my door, angled at the porch. “That record whenever there’s movement?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “It’s a webcam. I can sign in to see who’s on my porch when someone rings the bell, but not much else.”

He nodded, then crossed the threshold, his shoes echoing on the hardwood. “Seems to be the preferred method of security around here. Several of your neighbors said the same about theirs.”

I didn’t know why he wanted access to my camera or anyone else’s. Ruby hadn’t left the pool last night. I pictured her again, lowered to the ground by Tina and Paul, and ran my hands over my arms, chasing away the chill.

Agent Locke extended his hand my way in a half-hearted gesture. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve led with that. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

I nodded, unsure what to say. I didn’t deserve any condolences, wasn’t sure her loss could be mine to grieve. The sharp sting of her death, exacerbated by the guilt that I could have prevented it—and something worse: the muted, whispered relief that she was gone.

“So, Ruby Fletcher was your roommate.” He said it as a statement, though it looked like he was waiting for me to answer.

“She was staying with me,” I clarified. Roommate implied an agreement, not that someone had taken up residence in your house with or without your consent. “Do you know what happened to her?” I asked. Mac had mentioned the alcohol, but I didn’t know why an agent from the state police would be in my house, asking about camera footage.

“We’re waiting on the autopsy report,” he said. “In the meantime, I was hoping you might have some more insight about last night, as her roommate.”

“Sorry, I really don’t. I wasn’t there when…” My gaze drifted out the front window, my words trailing off.

“Okay, so let me just make sure I’ve got it all down right,” he said, pulling my attention back. “The guys last night got your statement, I know, but we like to do our own legwork at the BCI. So you left the party pretty early.”

I nodded, a beat behind, realizing his statement was really a question and he was waiting for me to fill in the blanks. I heard the echo of Mac’s words, promising that no one had said anything about our fight. “Yes, I was tired,” I said, trying to appear at ease, standing several feet apart from this stranger in the foyer of my home.

He was watching me closely. “And where was she when you last saw her?”

I flinched. “On that lounge chair. The same chair. During the fireworks, I saw her there.”

His gaze also went to the front window, eyes narrowing slightly, lines in his skin radiating outward. “How did you find out something had happened to her?”

“We have a neighborhood watch. Margo Wellman saw her after everyone was gone. Still lying there.”

She’d been the one to tell the police last night. Her voice wavering, breath coming too fast, hands shaking. She said she’d seen Ruby lying on the lounge chair on the pool deck as she circled past on her first walk-through. Went to get Paul to tell Ruby to move. Didn’t want to approach on her own. It was Paul who said something was wrong with Ruby. Who called 911 and told Margo to get help.

Agent Locke continued. “Yes, I heard about the neighbor on watch. She mentioned running to get someone else for help—Tina Monahan?”

“Yes, Tina is a nurse. Two doors that way.” I jutted my thumb to the left.

“Makes sense, then, that Margo would stop here on the way back. With you being Ruby’s roommate.”

I nodded, not sure what he expected me to contribute. I was one of the first to leave the party—it was the only thing people seemed sure of. Last night, no one could agree who was the last to leave. Everyone took their things when the fireworks ended, then they scattered.

No one noticed Ruby?A question directed at the crowd last night.

A shrug. A glance passing from one to the other. Until Charlotte cleared her throat. We had been doing our best to ignore that she was there…

Agent Locke walked closer to the window, peering out, though the only thing visible was his car in the road and then the trees in the distance. “Do you know what she was drinking?” he asked.

And there it was, what Mac had been implying. A vast consumption of alcohol. I wondered if our neighborhood would be liable, since she’d died on our shared property. If I would be liable, since she was seen as my guest.

“She made sangria for the party,” I said. “But I don’t know.”

Agent Locke let the silence stretch between us until the discomfort became something physical, like the tension between me and Ruby in this house, growing until one of us had to break it.

“There was a lot of press around her release,” he said. “We’re trying to trace Ruby’s path since she’d been out, and since she’d been staying with you, we thought you might be able to help.”

But it was clear now how little Ruby had confided in me. “Ask her lawyer,” I said. “I think they’ve been in contact.”

“Blair Bowman, right. Thing is, she’s had a hard time keeping track of her. Said Ruby hadn’t been returning her calls. The last time they spoke was after some news program that she’d been on.”

I ran my hand across my neck, felt a wave of heat flush through me. Ruby had lied about needing my car to meet her. Of course she’d lied. Preston had seen my car on campus. And Chase believed she’d been here—that she’d tried to get into his house. What the hell had she been up to?

“Her lawyer didn’t even know where she was staying.” He stepped farther into the house. “Can I take a look at her things?”

“You can have them,” I said. They were already in a suitcase. I’d searched the room myself—there was nothing there.

Agent Locke followed me up the steps, through the loft, to Ruby’s room. I gestured to her suitcase on the other side of the room, but I remained at the entrance. The agent went in alone, moving slowly through the room, leaving large shoe prints in the carpet.

Koda leaped from the foot of the bed as the agent bent to look through the luggage. Agent Locke jolted as the cat darted from the room, giving me a wide berth as well.

“Jesus,” he said, hand to heart. Then, peering closer, “Is all of this new?”

“Yes,” I said. “She showed up without anything.”

He sighed, hands on his knees, pushing himself back to standing. He took one last glance around the room. “Looks like she wasn’t planning to stay long.”

I watched as he stepped to the side, peering into the bathroom. And I held my breath, willing him not to look up. The money, tucked out of sight.

“She didn’t tell me what she was planning,” I said as he exited her room. And that, at least, was the truth.

Back downstairs, he handed me his card before leaving, in case I thought of anything else. I closed the door behind him and retreated from the window just as he turned around to look back. I watched him from the laptop on my couch as he opened his car door with one long glance in each direction, up and down the street. As if calculating something. And then I watched him sit in his car, unmoving, for five minutes. Then ten. Until I thought my video feed had frozen. I was on my way back to the front window to check when I finally heard the sound of the engine pulling away.

And then I grabbed my keys, locking up behind me. I knew what they were doing from the last time. They were making a time line. Sliding us all into place. They wanted to know what Ruby had been up to since her release, wanted to piece together her movements—and so did I. They must’ve been wondering—like all of us in the neighborhood of Hollow’s Edge—why she’d come here at all. Why she’d come to me.

I knew why no one was going to say anything about the fight, and it wasn’t just because they were protecting me. It was because of what Ruby had implied with her thinly veiled accusations. A crime I didn’t commit, she’d said.

It had sounded like a defense at first, like she’d said to the police when they’d come to my door: Tell them, Harper, tell them I didn’t do it—

I’d thought she had come here for revenge, and maybe that was true. But twisted inside that motive was something else at the heart, fueling it.

She’d come here to prove her innocence.

That’s what she was implying as her eyes skated over all of us last night.

She’d come back to prove that someone else was guilty.