Chapter Sixty Seven - Lies Keep Us Close

The muffled hum of voices and soft sobs filled the room, a heavy silence lurking beneath the polite condolences and quiet murmurs. The wake had drawn family and friends into tight clusters, all sharing grief in their own ways. Near the back corner of the dimly lit room, away from the main crowd, Harriet and Cody found a small space beside a wooden table scattered with half-empty glasses and bottles of lukewarm drinks.

As soon as the service was over, she went back. She didn't want to deal with anything else.

Harriet reached for a glass of water, her fingers trembling slightly as she took a slow sip. She glanced sideways at Cody, who was leaning against the wall, his expression shadowed and unreadable beneath the dim amber lighting.

"Cody..." Harriet began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, "Have the police questioned you yet?" Her gaze flicked to his eyes, searching for any hint of how he was holding up.

He shook his head slowly, running a hand through his messy hair. "Not yet. I'm scheduled for tomorrow morning. You?" His voice was low, weighed down by the gravity of their situation.

Harriet exhaled sharply, biting her lip before replying. "I already did. Told them I was at home with you, Jackson, Harper and Aura... watching a movie that night." She avoided his gaze, fiddling nervously with the rim of her glass.

Cody's eyes narrowed in surprise, a flicker of something sharper in his expression. "Wait— you said you were with us? But I wasn't home that night." His tone was quiet but edged with suspicion.

She swallowed hard, voice faltering. "No, you weren't. I... I told them that because I panicked." Harriet's words came out rushed, thick with guilt. "I was scared they'd pin something on me. Maybe even attempted murder." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I just didn't know what else to say."

Cody's brow furrowed deeper. "Why would you think that? You don't honestly believe you did it?" His question hung heavy in the air.

Harriet shook her head emphatically, tears threatening to spill over. "No, no. It's not that. I just—everything's been a mess. I felt like the walls were closing in. Saying I was with you all gave me some kind of protection. A story that just made sense."

Cody's expression softened, but a hint of frustration lingered. He took a slow breath, then nodded decisively. "Alright. If you're going to lie, I'll lie too."

Harriet's eyes widened, a mix of relief and disbelief flashing across her face. "You will?"

"Yeah. I kinda have to now.." he said firmly, resting a hand briefly on her shoulder for reassurance. "We stick to the story. I'll tell them I was home with you, Harper, Jackson, and Aura. We have to protect each other, no matter what."

The room felt colder suddenly, the weight of their choice settling over them. Harriet bit her lip, a faint, grateful smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Cody. More than you know."

He gave her a small, tight smile in return, eyes flickering with determination. "We're in this together. Always."

The wake was a quiet hum of mourners drifting in and out of conversations, some clutching tissues, others nursing drinks in trembling hands. The air was thick with grief and whispered condolences, heavy enough to press on the chest. Amid the sea of black-clad faces, Cody and Harriet slipped away from the crowd, the clinking of glasses and soft piano notes fading behind them.

They found Aura and Jackson huddled near the tall windows, the pale light outside casting long shadows across their tense faces. Aura's arms were crossed tightly, a shield against the overwhelming swirl of emotions. Jackson stood close beside her, jaw clenched, eyes darting anxiously around the room as if expecting trouble to leap out at any moment.

Harriet swallowed, the lump in her throat tightening. "Guys, we need to talk." she said quietly, but with a firmness that left no room for argument.

Aura glanced up sharply, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "About what?" she asked cautiously.

Cody stepped forward, his voice low, steady, but urgent. "About that night. Where were you, really?"

Jackson's eyes narrowed. "Why? What are you getting at?"

Harriet met his gaze, trying to keep her voice calm despite the storm inside her. "The police are starting to ask questions. I told them we were all home together, watching a movie."

Aura's face twisted in disbelief. "You lied? You told them that? I wasn't even home."

Harriet's hands clenched into fists. "I panicked. I was scared. I thought if I told the truth, they'd pin it on me. Maybe even try to charge me with something worse—attempted murder, or worse."

Cody nodded grimly. "We can't afford to be honest with them. Not yet. Not when everything's so raw."

Jackson crossed his arms, his posture defensive but conflicted. "So now you want us to lie too? Tell them we were all home? Together?"

Harriet's eyes pleaded. "Yes. Because if we all tell the same story, it looks like we're united. It looks like no one had a reason to do anything bad."

Aura's voice was quiet, but the edge in it was unmistakable. "That's risky. If they find out we're lying..."

Cody stepped closer, lowering his voice even further. "If they find out, we're screwed anyway. But if we tell different stories, that's even worse. It looks like we're hiding something. We have to protect each other."

Jackson exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright. We say we were home. Together. Even if it's not true."

Aura looked between the four of them, the weight of the decision settling over her like a heavy cloak. Finally, with a resigned nod, she said, "Okay. For now. We do this."

Harriet reached out, briefly squeezing Aura's shoulder. "Thank you."

Cody glanced around the room, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "We have to stay strong. No slip-ups. No second guessing. If anyone asks, that's our story."

So they stood together in that small circle by the window, an uneasy alliance forged in grief, fear, and the desperate need to protect one another. Outside, the world moved on, unaware of the fragile truth being rewritten behind closed doors.