Island of Lost Girls - Jennifer McMahon [72]
Peter was sawing at the two-by-four frame of the wall that held the backdrops. Its over, he said, more to himself than anyone in particular. Lizzy dropped the hammer and started to cry.
Lizzy? Rhonda said, walking over to her friend, putting a hand on her shoulder. What happened, Lizzy?
Let her be, Tock warned, coming toward them with the crowbar in her hand. Rhonda backed away.
Ronnie, I need you over here, Peter called. He was pushing on the left side of the backdrop frame, making it sway. Grab the other end.
Rhonda went over and wrapped her hands around the two-by-four, imagining it was Tocks neck.
No one ever has to know, Tock whispered to Lizzy.
Know what?Rhonda screamed inside her head.What did you do to my best friend?
Pull! Peter shouted.
The back wall didnt budge. Rhonda jumped up, grabbed hold of the board that ran across the top of the frame, and swung there, the Neverland landscape behind her: blue water, even bluer sky, the shoreline of their island.
I sometimes wonder if I ever did really fly
She thought of Lizzy hanging from the closet, trying to stretch herself, to grow taller. She could just hear the music pumping out of the speakers back in the bright chaos of her yard: Brown-eyed Girl. Van Morrison crooned,Do you remember when we used to sing
There was a cracking sound and the wall broke free, tipping, sending Peter and Rhonda down, a pile of boards and the tangled sheet with the painted island on top of them, a searing pain in Rhondas forehead, like everything in thereall her memories of Lizzy and Peter, and all the random things shed learned, like lines from their plays and the shape of buttons on the uniform of a Confederate soldierwas trying to find a way back out. She closed her eyes. Let the shoreline of Neverland cover her, hold her, threaten to never let her go.
JUNE 17, 2006
PAT HEFTED THEcrowbar and rested it on her shoulder casually. He was just supposed to take her to the woods. Leave her there. She wouldve stayed put and we wouldve found her in a few hours.
Rhonda nodded, took a step back, bumping up against the large metal desk. Who? she asked.
Little Ernie, of course. I was going to find her. It was all arranged.
It made sense in a horrible sort of way. Pats guilt over what happened to her sister. An opportunity, years later, to redeem herself. To be the hero. Even if it meant staging a kidnapping. Shed have her fifteen minutes of fame. Be redeemed. The whole town would benefit, really. It would be Ella Starkee all over again.
But if it wasnt Pat in the rabbit suit that day, who was it? Had she talked Peter into taking the little girl? Blackmailed him somehow?
It was you who visited Ernie all along, right? You wanted to be the one to develop the relationship. To build trust.
Pat stared, stone-faced.
You picked her up in Laura Lees car. I bet she liked it. It must have made her so happy, to see the rabbit waiting for her, ready to take her to the cemetery.
Pat gave a wistful little smile. Rabbit Island, she whispered, relaxing her grip on the crowbar.
Right, Rabbit Island. I saw one of Ernies drawings, Rhonda said. She made it look like paradise.
Yes. She loved it there. She lovedme .
Rhonda nodded. Who did you get to wear the suit that last day, Pat? Who took her? Where is she now?
Youre a smart girl. Pats eyes blazed now as she spoke. I thought youd have it figured out by now.
Rhonda shook her head. She put her hand back on the desk and felt around. Her desperate fingers found only papers. Magazines. A pen.
Warren, Pat said, the name an angry hum through her clenched teeth. It was Warren. Warren killed her.
No, Rhonda almost laughed. He wasnt even here. He was in Pennsylvania.
I offered him money. Five hundred dollars. An easy job for a college kid. Just pick her up, drive a few miles, and drop her off. I drew him agoddamn map .
Youre lying! Rhonda said. Where is he? What did you do to him?
Pat continued: Then hed