The sun burned through the blue morning as Ashley explained it all, from the first sighting to the cabin to the body at Pioneer Cemetery. She explained the way she had smelled Tristan in the woods, the way he’d told her where to find Nick’s body, the way he lingered with her, even now. She explained it while Bug and Fran listened and sipped their lemonades. She couldn’t look at either of them. Her heart raced up her throat and tasted like iron. “I thought I was just losing it at first. So I asked Logan for help. Because, I don’t know, she knows about this stuff.”
“Jesus,” Fran huffed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I don’t know.”
Fran sat up. “You told a stranger.”
Ashley covered her face.
Bug was quiet—even quieter than usual. After a moment, she said, “Do you think it’s really him?”
“Obviously not,” Fran cut in. She flipped honey-brown curls over her shoulder. “Logan’s whole thing is this ghost stuff. She’s trying to make you think you’re crazy, seeing ghosts and all that. It’s disgusting.”
Ashley narrowed her eyes. “I know what I saw.”
“Being sad about Tristan doesn’t make him a ghost.”
“I saw him.”
“Yeah, and if you told me that, I would’ve told you to see someone,” Fran said. “That’s what a good friend would do.”
“If I didn’t investigate it with Logan, I never would’ve seen all that other stuff.” Ashley sat up and put her sandwich down on the blanket. Suddenly, she didn’t have an appetite. “If Logan didn’t believe me, we never would’ve found Nick.”
“Finding a dead body isn’t a good thing,” Fran said. “None of this stuff is good. Do you know how messed up that is? You found a dead body. Of a person we knew. That’s, like, a serious problem.”
“Yeah. I found proof that someone is killing people,” Ashley hissed. “I knew both people that went missing. It could be one of us next. I can’t just … not do something.”
“Police catch killers,” Fran said.
“Paris gave up on Tristan. Everyone did.”
“Are you serious?” Fran snapped. “We spent hours out there every morning looking for him. Paris, too. No one gave up on him.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t think we’d find him.” Ashley swallowed the tears that barreled up her throat. She thought of the graffiti at the Bates. For months, everyone had assumed Tristan was dead. “What was I supposed to do?”
Fran’s eyes widened. Ashley had never seen her angry like this before. Her fists clenched at her sides, jaw tight with rage. “Ash, Tristan is gone.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“Guys—” Bug tried.
“You know what, I’m not hungry.” Fran stood and stormed over to her horse. “You guys have fun. I’ll take the horse back. Just … whatever.”
She ran the horse down the hillside toward Barton Ranch, leaving Bug and Ashley in silence. The warm wind blew between them, painfully quiet. Ashley lay back and waited for Bug to get up and leave her, too. She waited to be alone again.
But Bug stayed. She reached across the blanket and took Ashley’s hand gently. “That was … intense.”
“Yeah,” Ashley croaked. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I’m glad you did, though.” Bug lay on the blanket next to Ashley and laced their fingers together. “I was really scared for you. Fran’s just mad because she loves you a lot. We both do. You really think it’s Tristan?”