Free The Weight of Blood by Laura McHugh

him.
    â€œBack to something more interesting,” Bess said, digging around in the console for a lighter. “Are you coming down to the river on Friday?” She’d been bugging me all night about a party I knew my dad wouldn’t want me to go to. A bunch of guys we barely knew from school would be there, some of them now graduated or dropped out.
    â€œIf I can,” I said.
    â€œTell your dad you’re staying the night with me.”
    â€œAnd your mom’s letting you go?”
    â€œTexas blackout bingo down in Mountain Home. She’ll be out late.”
    â€œFine,” I said. I didn’t have anything better to do. It might at least take my mind off Cheri.
    â€œYou’ll have fun, I swear,” Bess said. “So where do you think we should ditch the car?” We were on the dirt road approaching the turnoff to the homestead.
    â€œMight as well drive right on up to the trailer,” I said. “It’s hidden from the road.”
    The moon cast the ruins in silhouette, featureless shadows hunched on the sloping hill. We drove around the dark outline of the barn and parked. This was where the trailer had been. But it was gone. In its place was a rectangle of bare earth edged with weeds, like the imprint of a grave. My heart seized and I scrambled out of the car, Bess behind me. When I got closer, I could see tracks where the trailer had been hauled out. Uncle Crete hadn’t wasted any time.
    â€œWell, where is it?” Bess asked, waving her flashlight in my face. “Let’s hurry it up. This place is creepy.”
    â€œWe’re too late,” I said, gesturing to the void. “It’s gone.” I took the flashlight and kicked through the weeds along the perimeter, looking for anything that might’ve been left behind. Barred owls called to each other in the trees, a conversation of unanswered questions. Who-cooks-for-you? Who-cooks-for-you-all?
    â€œSorry, Luce,” Bess said, catching up to me. “We better get out of here.”
    She took my hand and pulled me back to the car, away from the trailer’s footprint. I wondered how long it would take before saplings and briars and weeds filled it in. Another piece of Cheri swallowed up and gone. Disappointment rooted in my stomach.
    Bess peeled out and didn’t slow down until we were back on my road, creeping past Birdie’s house before turning on the headlights and lighting a cigarette. “Hey,” she said, glancing over at me. “You should look happier that nobody caught us. And you still have the necklace, right? That’s something.”
    â€œIt doesn’t prove anything,” I mumbled.
    â€œWell, what exactly did you think we’d find? Some body part the killer left behind?”
    â€œYou think she was killed there?” I said.
    Bess sucked so hard on her cigarette that I could hear it crackling in the dark. “I dunno, maybe. She had to get chopped up somewhere.” She shrugged and dropped her cigarette butt into an empty Mountain Dew can.
    She was right. Cheri wasn’t killed where her body was found, and it had to have happened somewhere. I just didn’t want to think it had happened on my uncle’s land.
    We slept in my bed with the fan blowing on us, Bess murmuring incomprehensible words whenever she changed position. I didn’t sleep well. My brain was churning. I was thinking about the stains on the floor of the empty bedroom, trying to remember exactly what they’d looked like. I wondered if Daniel had been there when the trailer was hauled away. Maybe he knew where it went.
    I was making breakfast when Bess came downstairs the next morning. “Can I just move in with you?” she asked, pulling a pitcher of apple juice out of the fridge. “I love waking up and not smelling cat piss.”
    â€œI wish,” I said, grinning. “But I’m pretty sure our parents wouldn’t go for it.” I handed