"Mom. That's just it. It's my choice, right?"
Her mother's silence meant she had no words of objection.
"Then let it be my choice." Hailey walked to the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas. "I planned on waiting until marriage. Maybe I still will. But not because you and Dad expect me to."
Hailey's phone signaled a text.
"Is that Conner?"
"No. I'm chatting with Jasmine."
"Oh."
"Everything's fine, Mom. Go to bed. And tell Dad to relax. Okay?"
Turning to leave, her mother paused. "Don't be afraid to talk to me. I'll always listen when you want me to listen."
"Thanks, Mom."
"Do you really like Conner?"
"Yes, I like him. But I doubt he's going to be the man I marry."
"But you did . . . stuff with him."
"Mom!"
Her mother's blue-gray eyes seemed to study Hailey. "Are you dating him?"
"I don't think so. We haven't talked about it. Right now, I'm more concerned with helping him."
"Helping him how?"
"Helping him with the death of Jared. Plus, Adam and Trevor as well. They're my friends, Mom. And a friend of ours died."
"But the circumstances of Jared's death are—"
"I'm a Catholic girl who goes to church at least once every week. Wouldn't you agree that I'm the best qualified person to help my friends deal with the circumstances of Jared's death?"
"Well, yes but—"
"Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God."
Her mother seemed satisfied by Hailey's quote and added, "One who is righteous is a guide to his neighbor."
Hailey smiled. "Precisely."
Once her mother left, Hailey returned to Jasmine's texts. There had been a frenzy of activity after the reporters had accosted the patrons of Saint Ann's Church. Then the thrill-seeking journalists had swooped into the neighborhood, filming the Smiths' house and interviewing every neighbor who agreed to talk.
The kids at school no longer considered the story about Jared to be a rumor. Now all her classmates accepted the story as fact, so the narrative had shifted. The intriguing gossip had transitioned into an addictive account of the supernatural. It seemed to be the only thing that everyone wanted to talk about.
* * *
Conner had called Trevor, but he didn't answer. So Conner sent a text: dude r u okay? Yet hours later, Trevor still hadn't responded, which was unusual because he normally replied within minutes. Obviously, Trevor was still upset about the conversation earlier that afternoon.
Since first learning of Jared's death, Conner had avoided allowing all the thoughts in his head to unfurl. Doing so would have forced him to acknowledge all the details that for months he'd tried to convince himself couldn't possibly be true. Even an in-depth conversation with Adam and Trevor had seemed foolish, as if ignoring Jared's full story would somehow lessen the role Conner and his friends had possibly played in the whole affair. Because the more Jared started acting more peculiar, the more Conner, Adam, and Trevor couldn't deny that something beyond their understanding had happened to Jared at Lake Bantam.
What if they had walked away from the man when Trevor had suggested it? Maybe the creep would have called the cops like he'd threatened. Then what? The man had no proof that they'd stolen the animal. It was missing. Conner and the guys might have been fined for setting the goat free and perhaps warned not to return to Lake Bantam. Big deal.
What if they had agreed to search for the goat, rather than letting Jared assume the task on his own? Maybe they would have found Billy. Or more importantly, they would have been united against the man. What could he have done to all four of them? Likely, nothing. Then Jared wouldn't have suffered whatever cruelty the man had subjected him to.
And what if they had encouraged Jared to talk to them? Dude, talk to us. Tell us what happened. What's the problem? Maybe we can fix it. Those are the words Conner wished they had said to Jared. But they hadn't. And the sting of not reaching out to their friend burned deep within him, and he didn't know how to extinguish the fire.
* * *
"I'm sorry," Trevor said the moment that Adam and Conner got into his car. "I know I should have texted or called you. Sorry."
"Why didn't you?" Conner asked.
"I was pissed about the interview. Not just because of the whole Levi thing and telling Lou about smoking weed." He looked at Adam in the back seat. "Sorry." Then he turned his gaze to the windshield as he scratched a fingernail along the steering wheel. "The trip to the lake bothered me all over again. Something bad happened to Jared. And when it started going downhill, we just let it. You know? We avoided him. And I avoided you guys last night. So, I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Conner said. "I understand."
"Me too, bro." Adam slapped his hand onto Trevor's shoulder. "It's all right. We still love you, man."
The hum of the engine and the draft of heat from the vent replaced spoken words. The three sat, as though each pondered their own deep thoughts about everything that had transpired since June.
Conner said, "We were scared."
The statement lingered in the air until he continued speaking.
"Scared of what happened to Jared. What happened at the lake. Scared of admitting that we turned our backs on our friend. And now he's dead."
Adam settled against the back seat. "I had a nightmare about that damn goat, last night."
Trevor stopped scratching at the steering wheel. "What happened?"
"I don't remember the whole thing. But I went outside to check out a noise in my backyard. It was dark. Like, the middle of the night or something. And just before I was gonna go back inside the house, the goat crawled out of a hole in the ground. And that's when I woke up."
Conner muttered, "Effing Billy."
"As time goes by," Trevor said, "the nightmares will stop."
Adam leaned toward the front seat. "You had a nightmare too?"
Trevor's hesitation to
