A. Taylor - Innocent or Guilty?

Kat nodded, her face scrunched in concentration, cogs whirring inside. “Could you take us to see it? And maybe walk us through the route Ethan would have taken that night?”

Kevin shrugged, his eyes meeting mine for a second before flicking back to Kat, “Sure, why not?”

Kevin’s parents’ farm backed up right to the woods that surrounded the south-eastern corner of the city. Sitting on three acres of land, the Lawrence family had apple orchards I’d spent my childhood running through. Our mothers had been friends for years, bonding over green fingers and the desire to watch things grow, and up until the age of ten or eleven, I’d spent almost as much time here as Ethan. The farmhouse was weathered now, peeling yellow paint and lopsided porch railings, when all those years ago they’d looked sunshiny and new. I hadn’t been there in almost two decades and it forced the same sense of disjointed familiarity that being back in Twin Rivers did. An almost-there, but not-quite feeling; one I didn’t want to get too comfortable with.

“So, this is it,” Kevin said, eyes squinting in the thin sunshine.

“It’s a long way from the road,” Ray pointed out.

“Yeah, the driveway’s about a quarter mile long alone.”

“So, how long would it have taken Ethan to cycle back home from here?” Kat asked.

Kevin tilted his head to the side, “Well, he didn’t take the road. He never did. See, if you cycled back through the woods using the footpaths, it cut the journey time way down. I did it everyday to school too, and Ethan – and Olivia’s – house was just on the other side of the school.”

Kat looked to me and I nodded in confirmation. “Going on the roads, it would probably take at least 40 minutes, but the woods meant it only took about 20, 25 minutes,” Kevin clarified.

“Even in bad weather?” Ray asked, “with mud or whatever?”

Kevin just shrugged, “Yeah.”

Kat turned towards Ray and said in a low voice, “It would be great if we could get hold of a bike, do the trip ourselves …”

Ray nodded thoughtfully while Kevin let out a shot of laughter, “You want a bike, we’ve got about 20. Come on,” he said, striding off towards one of the farm’s outbuildings, beckoning us with a wave to follow him.

The red doors creaked open, stiff and in need of some WD40, letting out a puff of dusty air as they did so. Inside was dimly lit by daylight creeping in at the wooden slats and through the now-open doorway, dust motes newly lit by the afternoon sun swirling in our pathway. It was a treasure trove of broken down, barely used machinery. Not just push bikes but quad bikes, about five different types of lawn mower, several tractors, and somewhere right at the back, I knew there was an ancient decommissioned fire truck. Kevin didn’t have any siblings to share this bounty with, but his dad had inherited the farm years ago, and with it this barn full of semi-useful objects.

“Take your pick,” Kevin said expansively, extending his arms out beside him to take in the entirety of the barn.

Ray let out a low whistle and Kat said, “Well, someone could be on an episode of hoarders.”

Kevin laughed, pulling one of the bikes towards him as he did so.

There wasn’t an official path leading into the woods from the Lawrence farm, but one had been formed there over the years, well-worn and walked over, tire tracks marking the way. The day darkened as soon as we were under the cover of the trees, light filtering through in patches and golden-hued columns. It took just two minutes to reach the public foot and cycle path that Ethan would have turned left on that night, and many nights before.

“He seriously rode this way at night?” Ray called a little breathlessly to Kevin who was leading the way.

“Yeah. He did it all the time.”

“It would be pitch black, though right?” Ray asked.

“He had good lights on his bike, and a headlamp,” Kevin clarified. “Plus, he knew it like the back of his hand. Could’ve done it in his sleep.”

“What about Tyler?” Kat asked, “Would this path lead to his house, too?”

There was a short pause that was filled with the heavy sound of our breathing, the crunch of the path under our bike tires, and thick rustle of leaves in the wind, animals in the undergrowth, birds in the trees. “He lived on the other side of town,” I said, explaining how 10 thstreet bisected the town, with Tyler’s house on one side, and my family’s and Kevin’s on the other.

“So, there’s no reason he would’ve been in the woods?” Kat asked.

“Not really,” Kevin said.

“In the trial, they said he was taking a shortcut home though,” Kat said, breath catching, “like Ethan.”

“Yeah, but that never really made sense to me,” Kevin explained. “I’ve never been able to figure out why Tyler would’ve been in those parts of the woods that night, to be honest.”

There was silence again as we approached the road, and Kevin pulled up to a stop. “So, this is the short cut Ethan probably took. You leave the woods here, and cycle straight up Hillier Street, past Jessica Heng’s house, where the party was, and then into the woods again, right by the high school,” he said, pointing ahead of him. “If you stay in the woods for this bit it takes twice as long navigating the trails, so he always cut through here.”

“And so, this is where Cole Sampson would have witnessed Tyler going into the woods, shortly followed by Ethan?” Kat asked.

“At the other end, yeah,” Kevin said, getting ready to take off on his bike again. We followed the route right past Jessica’s old house, where I spent that last night before Tyler died. Someone else lived there now, different cars in the driveway, the outside painted a different color. I stared up at the windows of the first floor while we rode by, as if the ghost of my teenage past might be there, but all I saw was the fluttering of pale pink drapes. Jessica had lived just a few blocks from the high school, and it took us mere minutes to get there, Kevin up ahead, flying past the entrance and going right to the back where the street trailed off into the woods. This had been my route to and from school every day, walking past stoners and slackers, loners and young lovers who sought out the coverage and seclusion the woods easily provided.

“Will you show us where Tyler was found?” Kat called, her voice echoing in the chamber of cedar trees.

It didn’t take too long before Kevin slowed to a stop once again, scanning the area with a searching look on his face. “He was found somewhere round here, I think,” he said by way of explanation. “I couldn’t tell you for sure.”

“Olivia?” Kat said, “Do you know?”

There were trees as far as the eye could see, trunks thick, leaves an everlasting green. It was hard to believe we were just a few minutes from busy streets, a bustling high school. If you listened hard enough you could hear the gentle rush of Cedar Creek, and then, further away, the growing roar of Hood River. It seemed darker than it should have been, a temporary twilight falling over the footpath, and I looked up; through the canopy of leaves the sky had started to turn grey, and with my face upturned I felt a drop of rain land on my cheek. “Olivia?” Kat said again, bringing me back.

I looked around us, and shook my head, “I don’t know the exact spot, either. But it was probably around here. We’re still a few minutes from my old house.”

By the time we reached the house, the 20 or 25-minute bike ride Kevin had predicted had taken much longer due to all our stopping, and Kat and Ray were saying they wanted to try it again with no stops this time. Maybe even under the cover of darkness, just to be sure. “And we need to go back to Jessica Heng’s old house,” Kat said, “I want to see if you could actually identify anyone going into the woods from that far away. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to –” Ray started to say something and Kat held up her hand, as if she knew exactly what was coming, “ With my glasses on I mean.”