Taylor had a couple joints, but Rachel didn’t want to smoke in her apartment. So we walked through the woods outside her complex. We climbed up a hill for the view and quiet. Everyone took a couple drags, except me. I have asthma and didn’t want to smoke anything.
But something was wrong. I think—everyone thought, after the fact—that a hallucinogen was mixed in with the marijuana. Taylor never told us where she got it.
Adele flipped out. She ran, terrified of something. No one moved to help her. Everyone was acting…off. I tried to follow Adele because we were in the middle of the woods and it was dark. She pushed me down and ran. I couldn’t see much, and I was drunk and not really thinking all that straight, and then I heard her scream.
Then silence.
By the time I could get everyone else with it enough to help me look for her, it was an hour later. We used our cell phones to guide our way.
When we found Adele, she was dead. She’d fallen down a cliff and hit her head on a boulder. It was awful.
Because of the drugs and drinking or maybe because we were all just awful people, we left her there. No one called the police or an ambulance.
The next morning, I woke up on the couch in Rachel’s apartment. Only Alexa was there. I called everyone, trying to figure out what happened. That’s when Taylor told me, over the phone, that they were “taking care of it.”
Alexa didn’t remember anything about the night before and kept asking where Adele was. I didn’t know what to tell her.
Two hours later, they all returned. Taylor, Kim, Rachel. I realized then that they hadn’t slept at all. They had gone back to find Adele’s body almost immediately. Kim made it clear to everyone that no one could say a word. That we would all be kicked out of school, Rachel would lose her job and be prosecuted, we could go to jail. Our futures would be over. Alexa asked, “But where is Adele?”
That’s when the story changed. Alexa really didn’t remember, and Rachel used that. She said, “She went home last night, don’t you remember?”
And Alexa didn’t remember anything, but she trusted us.
Rachel took me outside. She told me that Adele’s death was an accident and our lives would be ruined if anyone found out the truth.
“It’s better this way,” she told me. I believed her. I am so sorry, but I believed her.
Rachel and Kim came up with a story that was partly true. That Taylor, Adele, and I had lunch with Adele, and she told us she was leaving that evening for home. We were to all go home and if anyone asked us, we didn’t see her after lunch.
Taylor, who’d spent all night with them, had already bought into the story. She had been my best friend, she was scared about getting in trouble, she believed everything Rachel told her—that she would lose her scholarship, her future, her freedom. I was the only one who objected. And…I ended up going along with it.
I let them convince me. For three long years, I let them convince me that we had done the only thing we could have done.
I was wrong. I regret not coming forward three years ago. I hate myself for hurting you, because you didn’t know the truth about your daughter. And if Lucas Vega hadn’t told me how you were suffering, I might never have said a word.
I didn’t know until later that they staged the car accident in New Mexico, or that they had left her body in a mine in Payson. That doesn’t justify anything that we did, but I’m hoping you can find her and give her a proper burial.
I am sorry. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I hope that now you can have some peace.
Candace Swain
Forty-Eight
Tuesday
Regan met Jessie for breakfast Tuesday morning. Regan filled her in on everything that had happened. “But listen to the podcast tonight.”
“You going on it again?”
“No, I’m going to listen with my dad. Lucas is going solo, and I think he has several interviews lined up. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that this is over and Lucas is okay.”
“And the girl? The one in the hospital? Don’t tell me to wait until tonight.”
“She’ll be fine. I heard she’s being released this morning. Everything else? You’ll have to listen.”
“You’re a bitch,” Jessie said with a grin. “Now, important things. Next Saturday, no canceling on me. We hike, rain or shine.”
“Next week we might be able to tackle Humphreys,” Regan said.
“You’re so fucking out of shape I don’t think you can get halfway up the mountain.”