Chapter Ten
Last Words

SPRING 1986 — PRESENT

Betty woke to the sound of the phone ringing.

She groaned, rolled over and smushed her face into the pillow.

It was early. Too early.

Betty had only been home a few hours. She was still wearing her orange mini skirt from the night before. The matching jacket was strewn across the floor somewhere else. One of her heeled ankle boots was still attached to her foot. She did not know where the other was.

A throbbing ache had formed behind her left eye. The only relief came from closing them.

But just as Betty was starting to slowly drift back to sleep, three knocks sounded at her bedroom door.

She groaned again, curling up into a ball. The door clicked as it opened.

"Betty?" Donna whispered, tiptoeing inside.

It was dark; blinds shut, pink curtains fully drawn, blocking out the morning sun.

"What do you want?" Betty grumbled, peeling half her face from the pillow. There was foundation smudged against cotton. "This better be important."

Donna didn't respond for a while.

She moved further into the room, closing the door shut. The bed dipped when she sat down. "Sweetheart, I need to talk to you."

"Mom, I've barely slept and I feel like my skull's about to split open. Can't it wait?"

"No, sweetie," Donna replied, placing a hand on her leg. "It can't."

There was something about the way she spoke. It prompted Betty to sit up and listen.

She propped herself onto her elbows. "What's going on?" Betty asked, leaning back against the headboard.

Donna looked like she'd seen a ghost.

"Honey, you need to listen to me carefully," she began. Betty nodded along, rubbing her bleary eyes. "This is going to come as a shock."

"Mom," Betty prompted, watching her unsurely. "What's wrong?"

"I just spoke to Laura Bryant on the phone," Donna said. "Rich got called out to a murder case this morning."

"A murder?"

Donna drew in a deep breath, shifted uncomfortably. "Wayne Munson rang it in this morning."

No.

No, no, no.

Please God fucking no.

Betty's heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. Her gut twisted. She was going to be sick.

Her voice cracked. "Eddie?"

Donna shook her head. "No, no, sweetheart. Not Eddie."

Betty breathed. She squeezed her hands tight in her lap. It was okay. He was okay.

"I don't know how to tell you this..." Donna trailed.

The nerves settled back into Betty's stomach. Worsened when Donna's eyes brimmed with tears. She had a bad feeling. A terrible feeling. A god awful dread ebbing away at her.

"They found–" Donna hesitated. "Honey, the body they found, it was...it was Chrissy."

Betty went rigid. Any thought crossing her mind seemed to stop in its track.

For a while, there was nothing. Just numbness.

She stared ahead at the wall. Let the words sink in. Chrissy was dead.

No, that couldn't be right.

Not her Chrissy.

"That's–" Betty straightened up. Then she had the strange urge to laugh. "No, you're wron– No. There's been some kind of mistake. Mom?This is– this is a joke right?"

"No, sweetie," Donna said quietly. Betty started to tremble. Her mother reached to grasp her hand. "It's not a mistake. I'm so sorry."

Betty felt her entire world cave in.

Chrissy was dead.

And it didn't make sense. Not at all.

Fuck. Betty had seen her last night. Straight after the championship game. She was smiling. That gorgeous, golden girl smile. For the first time in a while, she'd even looked happy.

This couldn't be right. It wasn't right.

"How?" Betty choked out. "How did this happen? I don't...I don't understand. I don't–"

She broke down.

Donna wrapped her arms around her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

Betty clung to her, hot tears sticking to her face, whimpers escaping her mouth. She didn't care about holding them back. Nothing mattered anymore. Chrissy was gone.

Donna ran her fingers through Betty's tangled hair. Only when her cries started to quieten, did she prompt her again. "Betty. Honey, there's something else you need to know."

She shook her head. How could there be anything else? How could it possibly get any worse? Her best friend was dead.

"When they– when they found Chrissy..." Donna hesitated, swallowed the words, tried again. "She– she was in the Munson trailer."

What?

"Eddie's being treated as the main suspect," Donna continued. The hole carving into Betty's chest grew deeper. And deeper. "His van's gone. Nobody knows where he is."

Betty sucked in a gasp of air, attempting to gather her thoughts.

Eddie.

The main suspect.

For murder.

For her best friend's murder.

"No," Betty dismissed. "No, that's– Eddie wouldn't. He would never–"

"Sweetie..."

"No, mom, no!"

Betty swung her legs over the side of the bed, stumbled unsteadily to her feet.

"Betty–" Donna warned as her daughter crouched down, pulling on the nearest sweater she could find strewn on the floor. "What are you doing?"

Betty snatched her car keys from the bedside table. "I have to go."

Donna stood. "Betty, no. You've had a terrible shock, you need to sit down."

Betty rushed out the door, hurrying down the stairs.

"Betty!" Donna called after her.

"Betty?" Her father emerged into the hall. Ignoring his presence, she skidded to a stop and bent down in front of the shoe cabinet. Betty rifled through, throwing out what she didn't need. She picked up the first pair of sneakers she came across, plonking them on the hardwood floor. "What are you doing?"

"Betty!" Donna hurried down the stairs. "Betty, you can't go out there–"

She flung open the front door.

"Betty!"

She sprinted down the porch steps and unlocked her car. Her parents shouts became drowned out as she climbed inside and slammed the door shut behind her.

Betty stopped for a moment, took a breather. Her hands clutched at the wheel. She sniffled, drawing in a shaky breath. Her eyes were stinging. Head pounding. Stomach churning.

Chrissy was dead.

Donna and George raced into the front yard. Betty quickly wiped her eyes. She turned the key in the ignition and shifted the gearstick into reverse. Looking over her right shoulder, Betty rested a hand against the back of the passenger seat. She pressed her foot on the accelerator and roared out the drive.

Her parents stopped at the edge of the garden, watching as she sped down the road.

Betty drove faster.

She could barely think.

She wracked her mind, went over her last interaction with Chrissy, scrutinised every word, every expression, every possible thing she could remember.

They'd been loitering in the school parking lot after the game, waiting for the rest of the cheer squad. Betty was slouched against the hood of her car. Marnie had an elbow leant against the roof. Chrissy was stood in front of them, hands buried in her jacket pockets, rocking back and forth on her feet.

"I'll be there eleven latest," Chrissy told them.

She spared a glance behind, gaze drifting over the students flooding out the building. Everyone was excited following the basketball championship win.

"Careful, there's supposed to be an eclipse this weekend," Marnie warned. "All the loonies will be out."

Chrissy's eyes shifted back to them. "I, uh, don't think it's politically correct to say loonies anymore."

Marnie just shrugged.

"Wait, what do eclipses do again?" Betty wondered.

"It's when the moon passes in front of the sun," Chrissy explained. "Blocks the light from reaching earth."

Betty frowned. "Surely the moon would melt if it was in front of the sun?"

Chrissy giggled. "Not quite, Betty." She glanced down at her watch. "Oh, I gotta go." She adjusted her beige handbag strap over her shoulder. "See you later, yeah?"

"Laters," Marnie called.

Betty waved, sliding off the hood and onto the gravel.

The two girls got in the vehicle, aimless conversation striking up about the game and upcoming party.

They watched as Chrissy disappeared down the footpath and around the corner...

For what they didn't know would be the last time.

Shit.

The last words Betty had said to her best friend were "surely the moon would melt if it was in front of the sun?"

Jesus fucking Christ.

She could have said literally anything. Anything. A goodbye. An I love you. Something fucking meaningful.

Betty clutched the steering wheel tighter. She was desperate to go back and change it all.

God, when was the last time she even told Chrissy she loved her?

When was the last time they'd hugged?

She should never have let her go on her own, out there, in the dark. What the hell were they thinking? They should have stopped her.

If they'd given her a ride, or convinced her to come back with them, Chrissy would be alive.

And now Betty would have to live with that.

–

The police presence around Forest Hills trailer park was heavy. And they had almost entirely blocked out the Munson trailer.

Throughout the car journey, Betty's thoughts had bounced between Chrissy and Eddie. There was one thing she was stuck on – how had he been involved?

As far as Betty was aware, the pair had only interacted a handful of times.

But they'd found her body at his trailer.

For a split second, the intrusive thought crossed Betty's mind. She hated that it did.

Had he killed her?

Betty dismissed it almost immediately. Of course he hadn't.

But she had no conceivable explanation as to why they were linked. Why Chrissy was found dead in his home. Why Eddie was missing. All Betty knew was that he hadn't done it. She couldn't explain how she knew. She just did.

Eddie wasn't a killer. He was far too much of a wimp for that. Christ, she had watched him refuse to squash a spider before.

This wasn't him.

Which meant the real killer was still roaming out there.

Betty applied the brakes. The yellow crime tape surrounding the Munson trailer flapped in the breeze. Around six officers were stationed in front of it, patrolling the line, answering barrels of questions from concerned residents.

Betty shut off the engine, yanked out her keys and pushed open the door.

The moment she stepped foot outside, the reality of the situation seemed to hit all at once. Her breath caught, fingers clutching tightly around the doorframe.

There was so much fucking noise.

Loud chatter, rumours swirling, nasty accusations; "Chrissy Cunningham," "She was such a good girl," "Eddie Munson," "Probably lured her there," "Freak," "His father's in prison," "Runs in the family."

Betty marched across the green. She barged through a group of chatty middle aged women, elbowing her way to the front.

"I need to get through."

Before she quite reached the tape, a female officer raised a hand to halt her. Betty had never seen her before.

"Sorry ma'am we can't let anybody–"

Okay. Betty hated pulling this card. But she was desperate.

"Look, I assume you're new here, so I'm gonna give you a free pass. But I'm the daughter of Mayor Angel, so let me fucking through."

The woman shook her head. "I'm sorry, Miss Angel–"

"Betty." Rich Bryant's cautioning voice came from amidst the crowd. He surged through, hand gently wrapping around her upper arm. "Betty, stop. You can't be here."

She shrugged him off. "I need to see her."

"You can't he here."

"Betty?" That was Marnie.

She caught sight of her friend. And like, Betty had thought she was the one who looked rough, still dressed in last nights clothes, hair a mess, any remnants of makeup smudged. And, she also realised, wearing her little brother's two sizes too big sneakers.

But holy fucking shit, Marnie looked like she hadn't slept in over a week. She was dressed in grey joggers and an oversized black t-shirt, wearing odd socks (under normal circumstances, Marnie would never put herself through the shame of that) and absolutely no makeup. Her eyes were bloodshot, skin blotchy and stained with tear streaks.

The dishevelled sight of her seemed to make everything hit home again. Betty all but collapsed into Marnie, bursting into sobs. "What happened?"

Marnie's arms tightened around her back. Betty's shoulders heaved as the cries wracked viciously through her body.

She knew she was in public. She knew she was making a scene.

But the grief. It felt like it was splitting her open. Betty had never been in so much pain.

"I don't know what happened," Marnie responded. "They called this morning and I just–" she cut off. "It was Munson. He did this."

"No, no," Betty pulled back, shaking her head. "It wasn't him."

Marnie stared at her in disbelief. "Have you gone totally insane? Of course it was him. Why else would they have found her here?"

"It wasn't, Marnie. It wasn't–"

"They won't even let me see her," Marnie seethed. "That's how bad it is. I don't want to imagine what he did–"

"I– I want to see her," Betty abruptly decided. She didn't know why. If the sight was as gruesome as Marnie suggested...Fuck, she didn't wanna remember her best friend in that way. But still, she looked up at Rich pleadingly.
"Please. We need to say goodbye."

"She's our best friend," Marnie added. "Can't we hold her hand and say goodbye?"

"I already told you–"

"Please," Marnie begged. She had never begged for anything in her life. "We have to see her."

Rich spared an unsure glance at the female officer who had stopped Betty. The woman eyed the yellow tape and then him.

Rich let out a defeated sigh. "Come with me."

He snatched the tape and held it in the air, allowing the girls to duck underneath. They scurried after him towards the Munson trailer, at which point Rich told them to wait.

He continued on, disappearing inside for about thirty seconds before returning.

"You've got one minute," he instructed. "Don't touch anything, don't–" Marnie instantly started forwards. Rich side stepped into her path. "Listen to me, this is important. You two need to prepare yourselves, alright? She's covered up but this is...this is gonna be hard to take. Are you sure it's what you want?"

"I have to see her," Marnie said.

Rich exhaled, his eyes shifting over to Betty. She nodded meekly in response.

Truthfully, Betty didn't know what she wanted. And now that she was stood there, the doubts had started to creep in.

Marnie brushed past her brother. Betty's gaze lingered on him a moment longer. Then she lowered her head and trailed after Marnie.

Her stomach twisted itself into knots. Bile threatened to rise in her throat. She hadn't imagined what seeing Chrissy's body would be like. Didn't want to consider the horrific state she had been found in. The grim expressions on each of those officer's faces, the shocked whispers from neighbours, the way Marnie and Rich had spoken about it...

Betty wasn't prepared.

Neither was Marnie.

Her friend stopped at the top of the stairs. She pressed a hand against the doorframe and leaned over.

Legs threatening to wobble underneath her, Betty took cautious steps, hand clutched around the railing. "You ok?"

Marnie exhaled slowly. It took her a few seconds to lift her head. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Marnie waited there until Betty had reached her side. She cast a glance over and held out her hand. Betty grasped it tightly. The two girls shared a long look, sucked a deep breath of air into their lungs, and then stepped inside.

A black body bag was in the main room.

Betty's stomach lurched.

Her limbs seemed to stop working for a moment. She slipped her sweaty hand out of Marnie's grasp and turned away, covering her mouth to stifle the rising sob.

Marnie ventured further inside, dropping to her knees beside Chrissy. Her hand shook as it came to rest against the body bag. She hunched over, whispering rushed and mumbled variations of "I'm sorry."

Betty's stomach flipped upside down. Despite Chrissy being completely covered, she could tell from the protruding lumps that her limbs had been bent at horribly awkward angles.

Betty had imagined Chrissy's hand perhaps splayed out of the bag, easy for them to reach, to hold as they said their goodbyes. But she couldn't even work out where it was.

Fuck.

And Eddie was supposed to have done this?

Betty felt nauseated.

Before her body could give way completely, she stumbled a few steps forwards before completely collapsing to the ground. She crawled closer, stretching out to place her hand over Chrissy.

She was cold.

Betty squeezed her eyes shut.

Her best friend was dead. Hidden beneath the body bag. That she was touching.

Somehow, it felt too real and not real enough.

Betty's bottom lip quivered. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry Chrissy."

"Now do you see." Marnie's jaw clenched. "Look at her. This is what he did."

Betty had to turn away. She bit down on her bottom lip. Her muscles started to tremble. She felt an icy chill spread through every bone in her body. But her skin – fuck, her skin felt like it was on fire.

Betty's grief and hangover seemed to ram into her all at once.

Vaguely recalling what Rich had said about not fucking up the crime scene, she frantically clambered from the floor and rushed outside.

Pressing her lips together, and holding both hands over her mouth, Betty just about teetered down the steps and rounded the corner before she threw up whatever contents were left in her stomach.

Her throat burned. Her eyes stung. Betty peeled off her sweater and tied the arms around her waist. The fresh air felt soothing against her hot skin.

Betty's gut twisted again. She doubled over and heaved. But nothing else came out.

Wiping the back of her mouth, she straightened back up.

That was when she saw him.

Wayne Munson was sat on the abandoned, rickety porch swing – the one that made an annoying squeak every time the occupier moved.

It was the same place Eddie had stolen a late night kiss from Betty several months back, underneath the glow of the stars, a tattered blanket and a shared blunt.

"Wayne?"

The older man was hunched over, elbows against his thighs, head in his hands.

"Wayne?" She prompted again.

Betty approached closer tentatively. She wasn't entirely sure how he was going to react to her presence.

Wayne slowly raised his head. His eyelids were heavy. The wrinkles creased across his forehead seemed more present than ever.

He itched the scruff of his beard. "Hey, kiddo."

Taking the fact he still called her Kiddo as a good sign, Betty shuffled closer. She curled her hand around the rotting chain that held the swing up. "Hey. You doing okay?"

Wayne scoffed at the question. "Should be askin' you that. 'S your friend in there, right?"

Betty scratched at her arm. "Yeah."

It didn't seem to matter how many times people said it, she was still struggling to fully comprehend that Chrissy was gone.

"Sorry, kid. Awful. Just awful."

Wayne sounded...tormented almost. Betty remembered he'd been the one to call the body in. He'd found her dead, and his nephew gone.

He reached into his jeans pocket, pulled out a cigarette and lighter. Typical Munson response.

"Do you..." Betty hesitated, sparing a glance at their surroundings. They were fairly secluded, a decent distance away from all the commotion. A few officers stood close by, but remained out of earshot. Betty lowered her voice anyway. "Do you know where he is?"

Wayne's tired eyes met hers. He took a long drag from his cigarette. "Eddie didn't do this. I know she was your friend, and I how this looks, but–"

"I know," Betty assured.

Wayne stared up at her unsurely. The man didn't often give much away, aside from his usual gruff expression, but every emotion visible on his face today seemed particularly raw.

"You do?"

"I know he didn't do this. I just...I don't understand what happened," Betty said. "If I could talk to him–"

"I'd tell you if I knew," Wayne said, blowing out a trail of smoke. Betty's lips itched with the urge for nicotine. "You're probably the only person he wants to see right now. Only one he'll listen to."

Betty wasn't entirely convinced about that.

"Do you have any idea where he might be?" She asked. "Is there a friend? Or a bandmate or somebody?"

"You and I both know there aren't many people round here Eddie trusts."

"A place then." Betty was desperately clutching at straws. "Somewhere he'd go?"

She mentally skimmed through a list of areas. School would be off bounds. Work was unlikely. The Hideout was too public.

The woods? Eddie liked familiarity. Perhaps somewhere near the picnic table where he did his drug deals.

No. Too close to the school. He wouldn't risk it.

Or would he?

Surely not. Eddie wasn't that stupid.

"Startin' to think I don't know my nephew as well as I thought."

Betty's expression softened. "Wayne, no, that's not tru–"

"Hey!"

She swore under her breath. Betty didn't have to turn around to know that Marnie marching towards them. This was it going to be good.

"Where the fuck is he?!"

Betty straightened up, holding out her hands as she silently pleaded with her to stop. "Marns, don't do this–"

Marnie barged straight past, shoulder knocking into hers.

"You know where he is, don't you?" She stopped in front of Wayne, staring him down furiously. He continued to look past her without response. Marnie took a confrontational step forwards. "You protecting him?"

"Marnie, stop," Betty warned, attempting to intervene. Somehow. She wasn't the best with confrontation. The whole situation terrified her slightly. "This isn't his fault."

"She was found dead in his trailer!" Marnie pointed out. "He knows something!"

"He doesn't know anything."

"Fucking look at me!" Marnie demanded. She grabbed the cigarette that hung limply from Wayne's teeth and threw it on the ground, stomping it out with her foot. "You tell me where that sick fuck is or–"

"Enough!" Betty snapped, stepping in front of Wayne. "This isn't helping."

"Why are you protecting them?!"

"I'm not, I just–"

"Spare me the bullshit, Betty!" Marnie snapped. Her glare returned to Wayne. "Truth'll come out you know."

His stare trailed up to meet hers. "Yeah? And what truth is that?"

Marnie's expression hardened. She lurched forwards. Betty reacted quickly, positioning herself firmly between them.

"Please, Marns." She placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "He has nothing to do with this, okay? Nothing."

Marnie batted her hand off, focus remaining on Wayne. "We'll find him," she warned. "And then we'll make him fucking pay."

"Marnie!" Rich bellowed.

She took a step back, refusing to look away from the older Munson.

"Marnie," Betty pleaded softly.

"Marns, you gotta go home," Rich ordered as he reached them. He motioned his head towards Betty. "And you. This has gone way too far. Neither of you should be here."

Without another word. Marnie stormed past Betty, making sure to bump into her shoulder in the process. She said nothing to Rich either, stomping towards the car.

Rich's eyes became a little less firm as they landed on Betty. "Come on." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

"I just...I need one more minute."

His stare darted between her and Wayne. Reluctantly, Rich nodded. "Okay."

He moved away to give her a moment. Once Rich was out of earshot, she turned back to face Wayne, almost ready to burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry," she apologised. "She's just upset and–"

He held up a hand, silencing her. Betty nodded in compliance. She pressed her lips together and sniffed. Her eyes watered, but she could still see his brows pull together in thought.

"I think I know where he might be."

A/N

Chrissy :(((

The way Betty did not hesitate for half a second, my girl is #1 Eddie is innocent truther.