As You Lay Sleeping
Katlyn Duncan
‘Gripping. Thrilling. On the edge of your seat exciting. I absolutely loved it.’ - Red’s Midnight ReadersI did it all for you…Cara’s boyfriend is dead.When fingers start pointing at her, she knows she’s in more trouble than she originally thought. Because Cara can see that something isn’t right.As her carefully constructed life begins to crumble, Cara isn’t sure who she is anymore.But maybe that’s exactly what someone wants her to think…What reviewers are saying about AS YOU LAY SLEEPING‘I was completely glued from page one and didn’t want to put it down’ – Artistic Bent‘If you want a book that will leave you guessing until almost the very end, this is the story for you… A mind-bending thriller’ – For the Love of Books
I did it all for you . . .
Cara’s boyfriend is dead.
When fingers start pointing at her, she knows she’s in more trouble than she originally thought. Because Cara can see that something isn’t right.
As her carefully constructed life begins to crumble, Cara isn’t sure who she is anymore.
But maybe that’s exactly what someone wants her to think . . .
Praise for KATLYN DUNCAN (#ulink_82a3b1a8-39e2-536e-bf10-b52649b572e0)
“The epitome of a summertime read.” Rather Be Reading on This Summer
“Fans of sweet romances and light reads will flock to cheer on Hadley and Will’s romance blossom.” Pretty Little Pages on This Summer
“I definitely recommend This Summer if you are looking for a great romance but that’s not completely light and fuzzy. The writing is fantastic and the romance PERFECT <3” Lose Time Reading
“I really loved this book from the beginning to the very end. It was a book that you couldn’t put down because you wanted to see if this couple would ever get together and fall in love.” 4.5 stars from Once Upon a Twilight on This Summer
“This Summer really reminded me of Colleen Hoover’s Hopeless that I loved and even though it wasn’t as intense, the writing itself was incredible.” Spiced Latte Reads
“This Summer was a sweet best-friends romance with a large dose of drama. It is an ideal summer read.” Rampant Readers
“Katlyn Duncan’s YA debut, Soul Taken, is a thrilling ride that will leave you breathless for the next page, and curious to find the true soul we nurture within.” Jennifer Murgia, author of the Angel Star series and Between These Lines
“Wow! Talk about a completely unique concept with tons of new ideas, roles, and characters that took me on an exhilarating adventure.” 4.5 stars from I ♥ Bookie Nookie Reviews on Soul Taken
“Soul Taken is a BRILLIANT read! . . . This is one of those books to look out for.”5 stars from A Diary of a Book Addict
Also by Katlyn Duncan (#ulink_00d0bc96-fa8d-5445-81a5-8a3c068cd75a)
The Life After Trilogy:
Soul Taken
Soul Possessed
Soul Betrayed
This Summer
This Christmas
Darkest Dawn
As You Lay Sleeping
Katlyn Duncan
KATLYN DUNCAN
grew up in a small town in New England, but her head was always in the clouds. She wanted to travel and see the world but was happy enough to write her own characters and live through them. Katlyn started writing at a young age and never really stopped. Even if she wasn’t writing a novel or a movie script, she was jotting down ideas in her journal or on Post-it notes. She never thought (even though she dreamed) they would lead to her actually becoming published someday. One of her proudest moments was winning $50 for a writing contest in sixth grade. And Katlyn bought her very own television with it. In that same grade, one of her most influential teachers taught her that reading was an escape and she hopes she can bring that to her readers as well.
Katlyn currently lives in lower New England, a quick train ride to New York City, with her husband and adorable wheaten terrier in a Victorian fixer-upper.
Contents
Cover (#u5bd56677-7bc4-5154-944b-d101cb6055f1)
Blurb (#u3518b474-76e3-560b-bc83-c6d531804026)
Praise (#ulink_16b3b420-ea7d-52b2-b0ba-5209b1ec66f2)
Book List (#ulink_0cd3a0bc-f706-553f-9654-d6c161336ca0)
Title Page (#u5cc31563-d612-5832-a7b3-431805798617)
Author Bio (#ue886a748-8625-51e7-80ad-4bfc5b5fe4a1)
Acknowledgments (#u1e665a4b-9516-5334-9e3b-f4b2015b8aeb)
Dedication (#u2b9e34d2-7c84-528e-8fa6-2998c80153fd)
E (#ulink_28563a68-a9c8-5e3b-ac5b-2c9fe274011a)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_ec90fb3c-08d3-5c88-a3e2-c7acd718adb9)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_dbf28175-a616-5d3a-b744-9d3416fed3de)
Chapter 3 (#ulink_20c07fd8-b326-5d9c-8135-54b98af25d43)
Chapter 4 (#ulink_e2c15b3c-024b-5d45-8372-83f858b3ae0e)
Chapter 5 (#ulink_765fe73a-b02d-59c6-ada6-41ff59a15fd5)
E (#ulink_cbcbb3a4-8c50-583e-a758-e4df7193e9ce)
Chapter 6 (#ulink_2c315d3e-4ed0-56f8-8f76-f61f882bf0af)
Chapter 7 (#ulink_505514df-c714-5df1-a951-8319daaffcf3)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
E (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
E (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
E (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
To Jeff
Acknowledgments (#u24cd3bec-6089-5f5f-a021-8dcb2ad58440)
To me, the hardest part of writing a book is the acknowledgments. There are so many people that assist and inspire a book throughout each step of the process that I fear I will forget them when the time comes to write this.
It’s a good thing I kept a list this time around (took me only seven books to think of that).
I’ve never written a contemporary thriller before so the task was quite daunting. I want to thank K.R. Conway (The Undertow Series) for her enlightening theory of writing and how the “threads” really came together after thinking of the book in a new way. Lisa Hall, for helping out with a certain role in the novel. K. Meyers for forever changing the way I write my drafts and for your daily encouragement in the process.
A big shout-out to the SCAG for being there daily for me during the happy and frustrating moments, and every emotion in between. I don’t know how I would have gotten this far without you all!
I want to thank my fabulous critique group for being encouraging and helpful with every single one of my books and I’m so grateful for each and every one of you.
A special thanks to family: Aunty for helping me out with authenticity. Mom for stepping into your new role of critique partner. Your feedback and love for this book has inspired me more than you will ever know. And to my darling husband, who still hasn’t read any of my books yet actively listens to my crazy theories for my characters.
To all of those at HQ Digital who helped shape this book into something I’m proud to show the world, thank you for your time and talent!
And lastly, Victoria, my lovely editor. We’ve been through so much together and I am eternally grateful for your taking me on as a new author all those years ago, and here we are, seven books later! How time flies! I hope we can meet in person in the near future!
E (#ulink_484f3412-f4ce-5954-81e2-2c69f0c30173)
“For the last time, tell me what family she was assigned to and I will untie you.”
The portly, balding man in the chair had nearly sweated through his shirt. My request had been simple enough. Yes, the adoption had been closed. The caseworker wanted to protect the girl from knowing about her past and the lowlifes who’d created her. Calling them parents would have been too kind. But that was fourteen years ago and it was about time I found her.
“I’m being reasonable here,” I said, lifting the knife from inside my jacket. It had the sheath on, but the threat achieved the desired effect.
He mumbled something.
“What was that?”
“All of the files from that year were scanned into our server.” He indicated the computer on the desk next to him.
“I assume it is password-protected?”
“Yes.”
I placed the knife on the desk, but his eyes never left my face. “Benjamin, was it? Make this easier on yourself and give me the information I need and I will leave you unharmed.” My patience was waning, and I didn’t want to be in the presence of his rank body odor for an extended period.
He rattled off his username and password, and I entered them into the prompts. I searched the database for her birth name. There were two girls with that name, but only one of them was born in Tennessee. There was little information about the girl. The fire that killed the mother would have destroyed any important documents, but I knew they didn’t hold onto anything of importance regardless.
“There’s a reason these cases are closed,” Benjamin said. “They are to protect the child.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “That is your job, isn’t it? To protect children. What about those who needed protection and were denied?”
He blinked rapidly, tracks of sweat dripping from his brow and into his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please let me go.”
“Once I get what I need I will.” I looked away. His relief would accompany him in death. I printed the information I needed and closed out of the file and signed out. If the system was monitored, I didn’t want anyone finding him before I was long gone. I crossed the room to the water bubbler and took the powder-filled packet from my pocket and dumped the contents into the paper cup. I filled the cup with water; the powder dissolving quickly.
I went to Benjamin, placed the cup on the desk and untied him. “You’re sweating like a pig. Here.”
“Thank you,” he said staring at me.
I was used to the stares; they didn’t bother me as much as they used to. I handed him the cup. He chugged the liquid greedily. It wasn’t his fault he was going to die. It was an unfortunate circumstance that he had been working late when I arrived. I couldn’t risk his identifying me to anyone. His death would be swift, merciful.
I picked up the rope and coiled it around my arm, then shoved it in my bag and lifted the strap over my shoulder. “Goodbye, Benjamin.”
He opened his mouth to say something but, instead of words, a wet gurgle filled his throat.
I watched him clutch his chest and seize for a few moments before he went still. I pushed his rolling chair so he was situated under his desk. They would say he had a heart attack. No one would be the wiser.
I slid the papers from the printer into a large envelope, giving them the care they needed for my travel to Chester Bay, Connecticut.
Chapter 1 (#ulink_7dabc18d-2794-53a2-b5d3-c1ee6b1a48fa)
It was the first time in hours that my phone didn’t ring. To any other average sixteen-year-old girl that would have caused an aneurysm, or at least twitchy fingers and a headache. I rolled over; the bright-purple-and-pink-striped beach towel under me stuck to my leg from the heat of the early afternoon. I sat up and lifted the towel from under me. I wiped my sweaty face and dropped my sunglasses down from my head. Like hell was I going to get raccoon-eyes tan lines! The girls wouldn’t forgive such a summer faux pas. The lounge chair was warmer than it was when I sat down to sunbathe two hours ago and the backs of my legs immediately stuck to the plastic surface.
I grabbed my phone from under the chair so it didn’t take the brunt of the New England late-June heat, and I pressed the round button on the bottom of the screen. Several photo texts littered the screen. Earlier, I’d turned off the text notifications, leaving the ringer on in case Mom or Dad called. Dad would be okay with leaving a message, but Mom would have been frantic if I didn’t pick up before voicemail.
I scrolled through to find the latest from Kat. My best friend, and my boyfriend’s sister, posed on the deck of her parents’ sailboat in the matching bikini we both bought last week. Well, she bought mine as an early birthday present. I kept my relief to myself since I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to explain that expense on Mom’s credit card. The suit cost more than several items of my clothing combined.
I looked down at the pink and gray bandeau top with matching bottom. Mine looked dull in the Connecticut sun while hers appeared more vibrant against the clear blue ocean of the Caribbean. I flipped through the photos and commented on each one as she would be expecting. Then I took a picture of myself in my suit and sent it along.
It was around one. I wouldn’t be expecting anything from Rachael or Brittany for another hour. They were night owls and the main reason my parents forced me to turn my phone on silent at night. Rachael’s and Brittany’s late-night barrages of texts over the past week had disturbed the entire Daniels household. And, after two sleepless nights before the new cellphone rule, I was happy to comply.
After checking my text log, I let out a whoosh of breath. There weren’t any texts from Joe yet. I’d woken up this morning with twelve missed calls from him and one cryptic voicemail.
“Call me back, Cara” was all he said, though I sensed the “or else” in the silence following his voice. I wished he would have gone on the family trip with Kat, though he insisted on staying home as his own graduation present. Two weeks of freedom to do whatever he wanted.
Even in the stifling heat, I shivered. Joe and I had been on some seriously thin ice since his graduation out of Chester Bay High two weeks ago. Our relationship seemed solid to everyone else. It had started like a fairytale, with a junior jock plucking a sophomore nobody from the masses of high school social hell. But it had a happy ending for only about a year. I could have ended it at any point after getting to know the real Joe, but, at the same time, I couldn’t. There was no going back after getting a taste of the high life. Besides, I’d burned enough bridges clawing to the top of the food chain, I would be ground meat if I ever attempted to climb back down.
The sliding door opened and my sister, Madison, stepped onto the deck. She squinted in the sunlight as if it would burn her pale skin the second she came into its light. Or it might have been the glare from her Coke-bottle glasses. She twisted her blonde ponytail around her finger. Hair color was the only trait we shared. I thanked the genetic gods for my ability to sustain a tan, unlike my sister.
“What is it?” I asked. Madison had rarely left her room so far this summer.
She pushed the bridge of her glasses further up her nose. “Joe’s on the phone.”
I ground my teeth together and glared at the phone in her hand. Why didn’t I think about the landline?
She held the phone in her outstretched hand as it continued to ring. “He’s been calling all morning. I saw his name on the caller ID.”
I stood up and crossed the deck, my bare feet pounding on the wood. I grabbed the phone from her hand and pressed the end button.
“Why did you do that?” Madison asked, squinting up at me.
I held the phone out to her. “I’m not in the mood to talk to him.”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t want to talk to your boyfriend? Since when?”
“Since, I said so,” I snapped. I wasn’t going to explain the intricacies of high school relationships to a fourteen-year-old.
Madison stepped back and scowled. “Why are you so mean all the time? Your stupid friends have turned you into a jerk, you know that?”
“I’m not mean,” I said. “You need to stay out of my business.”
She rolled her eyes. “Devin is right. You’re always mean.”
My breath caught in my throat. Devin was my best friend since fifth grade. In fact, she’d been my only friend. Then I started dating Joe and all of that changed. She got weird and suddenly stopped hanging out and talking to me. Sometimes, Madison hung out with her little sister, Sabine. It was Devin’s fault that she didn’t stay friends with me; now, apparently, she had only her little sister to talk to. Pathetic.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not my fault Devin was jealous that I had a boyfriend.”
Madison shook her head. “Whatever. I’m going inside.”
“Take the phone with you,” I said, holding it out.
“Take it in yourself.”
She closed the sliding door, and I groaned, tightening my grip on the plastic phone. I would deal with Joe later.
I grabbed my cell, opened the door and entered the kitchen. Madison was already gone, probably in her room reading one of her fantasy books. She was obsessed with whatever new series was ripping money from tweens’ hands.
I placed the phone back on the cradle. It was one of Mom’s rules of cleanliness. Admittedly, there had been a few instances of low battery, enough for her to create the rule based on my phone habits before I had my own phone. Now it was ingrained in my head, as were many of her other rules around the house.
The relaxation from sunbathing had been ruined by Madison’s interruption, and I didn’t feel like going back outside. Besides, I didn’t want to burn this early in the summer. I wanted to be a deep brown goddess, not a lobster.
I opened the refrigerator and pulled out leftover homemade pizza from the night before. I ate a slice while I headed to my room. I sent a dirty look to Madison’s door. I hadn’t been that annoying when I was fourteen. Her dour moods had brought down the entire family at times. I wished she would get over herself.
I went into my room and closed the door. My shoulders relaxed upon entering my sanctuary. I tossed my phone on my bed, still not made from that morning, my faded pink comforter a heap on the floor.
I headed to my desk and adjusted the photo of Kat, Rachael, Brittany, and me at senior prom back into place on my corkboard. We were the only juniors in attendance this year. Next to that were our tickets and several other candid photos. I smiled at the memories of the fabulous time we had that night. I couldn’t wait until my own senior prom next year.
I sat at my computer desk and opened my laptop. It was nearly five years old, yet refurbished. It took a while to boot up, but it was my baby. The keys were perfectly worn to the shape of my fingers, and it had been my first big purchase last year after working as a grunt at the Chester Bay Inn. It helped that Dad managed the inn, though he didn’t portray any nepotism. I smiled and nodded at every task given to me, even though I cringed on the inside. I never looked at a toilet the same way after that summer. I negotiated to help out during school breaks as long as cleaning toilets was out of the picture. I was checking my email when the phone rang from the kitchen; the shrill brrring-brrring grated against my temples every few seconds. Joe wouldn’t give up.
I glanced at the prom picture; Kat’s eyes bored into mine. The combination of that and the echo of Joe’s voicemail filled my head. I inhaled sharply. I couldn’t believe I’d been so reckless. What if he told Kat I was ignoring his calls? Then all of this would have been for nothing.
I flung the door open and ran for the phone. “Keep ringing,” I mumbled to myself.
I heard Madison’s door open. “Can you—”
“I got it!” I huffed, entering the kitchen. I flung myself over the counter and reached for the phone and pressed the talk button on the last ring.
“Joe?” I said into the receiver.
“Wow, finally,” he said.
I scratched my forehead. “I was outside.”
“I heard Madison talking to you,” he said.
I bit my lip and tried to find some legitimate excuse. “She accidentally hung up?” I couldn’t help the statement coming out as a question. I was never quick on my feet.
A female voice said something in the background.
“Is someone there?” I asked.
“If you bothered to call me back, then you’d know.”
“Be serious.” Joe had been into many things, but I never thought he would cheat on me. At this point, I knew too much for him to do that without serious repercussions. We had been at a stalemate for a while now because of it.
“It’s the TV. Relax, babe.”
I cringed at the endearment. Joe took a long inhale, then exhaled, filling my ear with the sound of his satisfied breathing. I glanced at the clock. It didn’t matter to Joe what time it was. Any time was a good time to get high. He could be just as childish as Madison, though in more reckless ways.
“Why did you call?” I asked.
“Can’t a guy call his girlfriend? You’re still my girl, aren’t you?”
He was taunting me. I’d made it clear many times over the last year that I wanted it to be over. But he held my reputation over my head, like a piece of meat above a starving dog. I didn’t give in this time. He would be away at college soon, and a mutual breakup was imminent.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I want to see you. One last time.”
I paused. “What do you mean ‘one last time’?”
He inhaled slowly. I could imagine he was holding a joint or his pipe, blowing smoke rings into the air. An accomplishment he found as impressive as winning a gold medal at the Olympics. “I’ve decided I wanted to be free this summer.”
“Free?”
“Yeah, I’m going to Stanford in the fall. And I don’t want to be tied down to Chester Bay anymore.”
I could have done a backflip if I wasn’t afraid of breaking my neck in the process. “When and where?”
“I have something to handle this afternoon. How about tonight at my house around six?”
“Done, I’ll see—”
“And bring Thai food,” he added.
I sighed. “Sure. See you, then.”
“Bye, babe.”
I hung up, not bothering with the fake pleasantries. I jumped up and down, pumping my fists into the air. With Joe breaking up with me, I could stay on Kat’s good side since he was the one to supposedly break my heart. I could see the girls’ nights in with tubs of ice cream and boy bashing. The girls were serial daters, and I would be able to partake in the fun at the multiple planned parties over the next few months. This was really going to be the best summer, I could feel it.
Chapter 2 (#ulink_41e7732e-ff24-53d7-aea6-1d926295c8a1)
After dinner with my parents and Madison, I drove to Joe’s house with Thai food in tow. I had my windows down to keep the airflow going so the sharp curry scent wouldn’t cling to the inside of my car. Joe knew I hated Thai food. He never made things easy. I blasted the air conditioning to the maximum level, though it barely reached me in the vortex created by all four windows being open. With the savings from last summer, I wondered if I’d be able to get enough for a car manufactured in the last two decades instead of the clunker Mom and Dad had surprised me with after I got my license. It was reliable but not very pretty.
I blared the radio, clearing my head for what was to come. I sang along with the pop song that I heard at least five times a day on that station since its release several weeks ago. I was sure I’d hate it by the end of the summer. For now, I sang my heart out, distracting myself from the ball of nerves coiling in my stomach.
The fifteen-minute drive stretched on as I anticipated getting exactly what I’d wanted for such a long time: an end to our relationship. It would open my summer and the rest of my life up to do what I wanted. I wasn’t sure how Kat would take it at first, though her previous snotty comments about how Joe and I needed to “get a room” made me think she’d be okay with the new arrangement. Out of all the crap I had to deal with from Joe over the years, becoming friends with Kat was a definite upside. She could be challenging at times, but at least she kept it interesting.
The Blair estate overlooked the bay. I traveled down the windy road around the steep bank, the glare from the setting sun reflecting off the calm waters separated from my side of the road only by a slight decline and a wooden fence. The few homes that were on the level of the road were threatened with floods every year, but the view kept these houses in the multimillion-dollar ranges.
I turned the car up the driveway, the entrance visible only to those who knew where to find it. Behind the thick hedge was a wrought-iron fence. I leaned out of the window and typed the passcode into the numeric pad. Everyone had their own passcode, so Kat’s parents were aware of the comings and goings of people through their house. I was not given my own number until after a year of dating Joe. It was probably a request from Mrs. Blair, who wanted to know the whereabouts of his son’s girlfriend. I didn’t mind: it was better than waiting at the gate for someone to buzz me through.
I drove up the steep driveway. The familiar drive pinched at my heart a little. The next time I drove in, it wouldn’t be for Joe.
A text lit up my phone. I used the side of my hand to balance steering and reading the message. It was a group message from Rachael and Brittany about a meeting time for the movies tonight. I hadn’t decided yet how to tell them the news. I did want to get the story straight before Joe somehow twisted this entire ordeal into something that was my fault. I’d have to see how the meeting with him went before I could come up with a detailed story, though I already had some ideas.
The main house loomed in front of me. I followed the circular curve of the driveway. In the center was an ostentatious white-marble fountain with several half-naked cherubs continuously spewing water into the large basin. The piece was bigger than my car. And several times the cost.
Lightning lit up the sky, illuminating the massive Blair residence. The forecast didn’t mention rain, and I didn’t have a chance to go home and change before the movie, so I grabbed the umbrella from the back seat and hopped out of the car. I tucked the umbrella under my arm and grabbed the Thai food bags. I left my keys and purse in the car since I knew I wasn’t going to be here long.
I dashed around the side of the house, my flip-flops thwacking on the Belgian block walkway.
I slowed when I reach the multilevel stone patio in the back. At the far end of the grounds, the underground pool was lit, and the water calmly lapped against the sides.
A muffled thumping bass shook the windows of the pool house, which was closer to the size of my ranch-style home. I always hated being in there. It was a bachelor pad, even though Joe was in a relationship. Another reason added to the list of why he needed to be dumped.
Safe from the rain, I dropped my umbrella on one of the chairs and opened the glass doors.
Electric guitar and thundering drums blasted at me. Why did Joe always insist on having his music at ear-shattering levels? I went to the music system and turned it down. I rubbed my ears, adjusting to the lower volume. The members of Metallica stared accusingly at me from Joe’s favorite poster above the speakers.
“Joe?”
I looked around the dark space. The rain clouds had moved in quickly, cutting out the setting sun. And the blackout curtains that Joe insisted on having closed at all times didn’t help. Also, the stupid rotating strobe light made it impossible to see anything further than a foot in front of me.
“Hello?” I wrinkled my nose, smelling something putrid.
I found him in the center of the room on the sectional couch, sleeping. He lay on his side, his face buried in the cushions. I navigated around empty beer bottles on the floor to get to him. The smell was stronger now.
I poked him in the side. “Joe. Come on. Wake up.” It would be like him to pretend to be passed out, then jump up and scare me. It wouldn’t be the first time. His jokes were immature, yet he insisted they were hilarious.
I poked him again, but he didn’t move.
Two can play at that game.
I flipped the flashlight on my phone and pointed it at his face. I expected him to pop up with a goofy grin, then go into a tirade on how he “got me.”
Instead, Joe didn’t move. At all. Surprisingly, he was a light sleeper, yet he insisted on listening to music and television to fall asleep. The change in volume should have woken him, and the flashlight definitely would have.
What had he taken to keep him in such a deep slumber?
I slid the beam over the room. On the side table, there were several more empty beer bottles and other paraphernalia from the party he apparently had going on since I’d last seen him. I didn’t have time to dwell on his habits when something else caught my attention. A folded piece of paper sat on the table. I wouldn’t have cared otherwise, except my name was scrawled across the front in bold black letters.
I picked it up and unfolded it. Maybe Joe had brought me here as another joke and had no intention of setting me free from the toxic relationship. My throat constricted at the thought.
There was one line of writing, and I read the three words over and over, unable to make sense of them.
“All for you,” the note read.
“All for me what?” I asked aloud.
I folded the note and shoved it in my pocket. “Joe, come on,” I said louder. “Wake up!” I shook his shoulder.
He still didn’t wake. I’d never had to try this hard before. I reached my shaking hand to him, slower this time. I shook his shoulder. “Joe?”
My voice sounded far away in my ears. I shook harder. Still nothing. I touched his neck, feeling for a pulse. My own pulse throbbed in my fingertips, though no blood rushed through his veins.
I had to make sure he hadn’t done something stupid. I gripped his shoulder and turned him. His unmoving glossy eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
A shuddering breath escaped my lips. I screamed and clamped my hands over my mouth, backing away from him. I knocked over a couple of beer bottles; they clinked against the floor and rolled in different directions. I bolted from the pool house, escaping from the claustrophobic feeling welling in my chest. I leaned over and threw up my dinner all over the brick patio. I knelt on the ground next to my puke and took deep gulps of air. My hands trembled in my lap.
I looked at the door of the pool house, knowing Joe’s dead body was on the other side.
It took me a few seconds to snap out of it. I grabbed hold of my senses and stood up on shaky legs. I needed to call for help. I looked at my empty hands, and a feeling of dread swelled in my already sensitive stomach. In my terror of seeing Joe’s body, I must have dropped my phone.
Through the glass sliding doors, the beam of light from my phone’s flashlight acted like a beacon, taunting me from inside. My stomach lurched at the thought of going in there again. I didn’t have a key to the main house to call from the landline, so I had to go back in there.
As I stepped into the pool house, the scent of something unfamiliar burned my nose. Was that what a dead body smelled like? My stomach rolled, and I swallowed to keep whatever was left in it firmly in place.
A sob escaped my lips when I realized the phone was next to the couch. I would have to go near his body to get it.
I stepped closer to him, slowly as if the floor were made of cracked ice. I knelt down by the phone and clamped a hand over my mouth and nose, trying not to breathe in the stench of him. I avoided looking at Joe’s still body.
I whimpered as I grabbed the phone and bolted out of the pool house. Outside, I inhaled the sharp scent of chlorine coming from the pool. It was better than inside the confined space. My shaking fingers pressed 911.
“Chester Bay nine-one-one. What’s the address of the emergency?” a female voice said over the line.
I stumbled over Joe’s address, my voice shaking. The woman didn’t ask me to repeat myself, so I figured she understood through my sobbing. Or the GPS on my phone gave the location.
“I think he’s dead,” I said.
“Who’s dead?”
“My— Joe, Joseph Blair. Please hurry.”
“Don’t worry, miss. I’m sending someone now.”
I hung up the phone and closed my eyes, trying to forget the image of Joe’s dead face burned into my brain.
I turned and could see Joe’s body through the glass doors. My stomach shifted uneasily.
I took a breath and decided to wait for the police at the front of the house. It was better than staring at the place where my boyfriend had died. My chin trembled, and I dragged a breath through my chattering teeth before letting out a choked sob. Tears blurred my vision, and each step was harder than the next.
I took one last look behind me. I imagined Joe walking out of the pool house at any second, but he didn’t. He never would again. All of Joe’s drug and alcohol abuse had caught up with him. Why had I been the unlucky one to discover him?
Chapter 3 (#ulink_836670a4-ef17-56a3-9aa9-e1f28369f9f1)
The image of Joe’s blank face flashed in my eyes every time I blinked. The lights from the police cars painted the overlay of his face in red and blue. The police had been at the house for almost an hour already. Did they really need those lights on? I rubbed my temples with my fingertips. The nasty stench of death had settled in the back of my throat, making me want to gag again, though I doubted I had anything left in my stomach.
A pair of headlights pierced through the darkness further down the driveway. I stood up from the wide stairs at the entrance of the main house. I leaned my body against one of the large white columns, squinting to see who it was.
When I recognized the car, a breath whooshed out of me. I raced from the steps, weaving between the blue and white police cars to get to my dad’s Jeep.
A female officer stationed behind the other police cars waved for Dad to stop.
“That’s my dad,” I said breathlessly, fighting back another round of tears. I needed to get as far away from this nightmare as I could. I’d called Mom and Dad after the 911 call. They told me to wait for them. I had enough trouble controlling the violent trembling of my hands and the flashes of Joe’s face, so I knew I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to drive.
“This is still a crime scene,” the officer said, clasping her hands behind her back. “He can meet you on the other side of the tape.”
I lifted the yellow tape and stepped under. Raindrops peppered me in the face. Thankfully, the rain had let up until moments after the police arrived. Until my parents arrived, I’d huddled by the front entrance of the main house, not wanting to go inside any of the buildings on the estate, especially the main house. The huge empty house would definitely add to the creep factor of the entire night. And I wasn’t going back to the pool house to get my umbrella. I’d buy another one.
Mom and Dad came out of the idling Jeep, and I fell into Dad’s arms. The strength of his embrace melted the terror in my bones and opened the floodgates. I sobbed into his shirt.
“Sorry it took us so long. The streets were blocked with police,” Dad said, his voice a hearty rumble against my ear.
Mom rubbed a hand on my back. “Sweetheart, what happened?”
I rested my cheek against Dad’s chest. Mom stared at the house. “He’s dead.” The words were like a foreign language on my tongue, uncomfortable and shaky. “I thought he was sleeping…”
Dad squeezed my arm. “Carebear. I’m so sorry.” He shook his head absently. “His poor parents.”
Mom nodded, glancing at him. Unspoken words hung between them.
Joe’s parents wouldn’t have nightmares of his frozen, expressionless face for the rest of their lives. That was Joe’s parting gift to me.
Dad patted my back. “We should take you home. Let me speak to the person in charge and see if it’s okay for you to leave.”
“Dad.” I grabbed his arm, unwilling to take another step toward the house. I needed to be as far away as possible. For the rest of my life if I could help it.
My parents shared another look and Mom placed a hand on my shoulder, escorting me to the Jeep. My legs vibrated as if I’d run ten miles in the last two hours. I collapsed on the backseat. My damp shirt clung to my body, turning to ice when the air conditioning hit it. My teeth started to chatter. At this rate, I was going to have stubs for teeth.
Mom got into her seat, closed the door and turned off the air conditioning. She turned around. “There’s a blanket next to you.”
It was the huge blanket Mom always kept in the Jeep for impromptu beach trips. I wrapped it around me and tucked it around my legs. I pressed my lips together and imagined I was in the warmest place possible. I thought of the beach, but then remembered the many trips Joe and I took to the various coves in Chester Bay. The thought made me shiver. Not the desired effect.
Dad hadn’t returned when two paramedics pushed a stretcher carrying a sealed black bag to the ambulance. Bile rose in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and saw Joe’s face again. They sprang open and I stared at the back of headrest instead. Was I going to see him every time I closed my eyes? If so, I was never going to sleep well again.
Mom sighed, her voice full of emotion. “I can’t believe this.”
“Me neither,” I murmured. What if I had come over earlier? Would this still have happened? Could I have said or done something differently? I tucked the blanket closer to my body. I couldn’t believe Joe could be so reckless. Well, I could believe it: I’d seen him get close many times.
My stomach churned. I swallowed a few times, willing it to stop quivering.
Dad approached the car, and I sat up straighter. Finally, we were getting out of there.
He got into the Jeep and sat there, his expression slack. The vacant look he gave the windshield reminded me of the last image I would ever have of my boyfriend.
“What did they say, Tom?” Mom asked.
Dad cleared his throat. “Cara answered all their initial questions. If they have more, they’ll be in touch.” His hand reached over and squeezed Mom’s.
“What other questions could they have?” It was an accidental overdose, that’s all. I had nothing to do with it other than wanting to escape the toxic relationship I’d endured for the last two years. Sure, I was the one who didn’t have the guts to leave, but I didn’t kill him.
I removed the blanket, suddenly becoming too warm.
I caught Dad’s gaze in the rearview mirror. He shrugged. “Probably none.”
Probably none? That didn’t settle me one bit.
I kept my television on all night, fearful of the shadows that stretched across the room after I turned off the lights. Joe lingered in my mind the entire time. I recalled our whole relationship from start to finish on a memory loop in my mind. I tried to pick out the happier parts keeping the afterimages of his dead body on the periphery of my mind. At least for a little while. I wondered what had gone through his head. From speaking with Joe earlier that day it didn’t seem like he was upset. Accidents did happen, though.
My mind wandered to Kat. I could almost see her reaction when the police called her family. I hadn’t wanted to call or text her. I didn’t want to contribute to the situation more than I already had. And partly because I was a coward. My parents agreed that I shouldn’t call her, since it was the police’s job to release all information to the family. Knowing the devastation that was about to befall Kat’s family kept me up into the early hours of the morning.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep from pure exhaustion, because I woke when an explosion of music erupted from my phone. I sat up, disoriented for a moment after being catapulted from the edge of unconsciousness.
The ringing stopped, and I took a breath, leaning back against my headboard. Three text tones sounded from the ground in rapid succession, then the phone started ringing again. I knew it was Kat. If we didn’t pick up the first time, she would type 911 in three separate texts, then call again. Most of the time it was for fashion or gossip ‘emergency’; this time, I knew it wasn’t about clothes.
I scooted off my bed and headed toward the ringing sound. I shoved my clothes from last night out of the way and found my phone under the pile that I intended to wash at least a dozen times before wearing again, if ever. Even though my clothes didn’t touch Joe, I could swear they held onto the scent of him. The smell that made me want to throw up all over again.
A picture of me and Kat from the prom filled the screen. I took a steadying breath and picked up.
“I. Can’t. Believe. It,” Kat sobbed on the other end. Her words interrupted by sharp pulls of breath.
I lay back down on the bed, covering my eyes with my hand. Tears welled in my eyes and a few escaped before I wiped them away. “I’m so sorry, Kat.”
She sniffed, the sound thick and wet across the line. “The police said you found him.”
I made the mistake of closing my eyes and his face appeared. I tried to shake it off. “Yeah.”
“God! That must have been awful for you.”
“It was.” I sat up. I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep after this conversation. “When are you coming home?” I couldn’t do this alone.
She sniffed. “Dad scheduled our plane for this morning. God, I can’t believe this!” Another round of sobs sailed over the line. Flashes of Joe’s dead face punctured my vision and I couldn’t hold back my tears, either. “He had so much life to look forward to. Stanford in a few months. He didn’t deserve to die.”
“I know . . .” I trailed off.
She was right. He did have a lot to look forward to.
Someone knocked on my door, allowing me to briefly escape my haunting thoughts and reliving with Kat the horrific night I’d just endured. I was sure to do that again when she came home. At least I could compose my thoughts in the hours it took her to get home.
Mom poked her head into the room. “Sweetheart?”
I pointed to the phone and mouthed the word, “Kat.”
Mom nodded and said softly, “Breakfast is ready.” She left the room.
“Hang in there, Kat. Call me as soon as you land.” I slid off my bed and shoved my feet into my worn slippers.
“I will.” Someone spoke in the background on the other line. “I have to go,” she said after a moment of silence.
We said our goodbyes and I hung up first. I stood still, staring at the carpet, trying to build enough strength to make my legs move forward. I pushed my fingers through my tangled mess of hair. I didn’t have the energy to move, never mind care how I looked.
I walked around my bed and kicked something. A folded piece of paper flipped over, revealing my name. I sucked in a breath. The note Joe had written me. I’d forgotten all about it after I found him. I lifted it from the ground, pinched between my fingers like a broken shard of glass. I didn’t need to read it again to see the words in my mind’s eye. The words “All for you” repeated in my head.
I placed the note in my desk drawer and closed it. I wasn’t sure what to make of the message but it wasn’t as if Joe were alive to ask. Then, I took several steadying breaths before heading to the kitchen.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_fbd31bf1-21ae-5189-b4bb-b53ff025d3fe)
Dad and Madison were sitting at the table when I arrived. I was surprised he wasn’t already at work.
“Hey, Carebear,” he said, turning in his chair. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Not really.”
Mom and Dad shared a look; something between pity and sadness.
For some reason, it annoyed me. I sat in my chair and tried to ignore whatever psychic conversation they were having.
Madison sniffed and I took a moment to look at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she stared at her hands. She hadn’t touched her food.
Mom placed a spoonful of scrambled eggs and a slice of toast on my plate. “Were you talking to Katherine?”
I pushed the eggs around my plate with the fork. “Yeah. She and her parents are coming home later today.”
“Well don’t worry about coming into the inn today,” Dad said. “I’m going into work late. Mom took the day off.”
I had no thought of going into the inn for work. “Thanks.”
“Deb,” Dad said to Mom, “I can take the day off, too.”
“You don’t have to,” I said quickly. It was enough that Mom was going to stalk me all day. I didn’t need the both of them on my case. I started to wish I’d never got out of bed. Even in death, Joe was still screwing with me. I immediately regretted the thought. And karma had a quick response, filling my mind with his face again. My stomach churned, even though it was empty.
I managed to swallow a few bites of toast before it settled.
“Cara,” Mom said. “We told Madison about what happened.” She gave me a look that seemed to add, “. . . sparing your delicate fourteen-year-old sister the gory details.”
“Why would he do that himself?” Madison asked. “Is it because you were ignoring his phone calls?”
Three sets of eyes trained on me.
My cheeks burned.
Mom put her coffee cup down on the table. “Cara, is this true? Why were you ignoring his phone calls?”
I blinked. “I wasn’t.”
“Why did Madison say you were?” Dad interjected.
I couldn’t tell them I planned on breaking up with Joe. Why did Madison have to be such a brat? It didn’t help that she blamed me. His death wasn’t my fault but that didn’t stop the guilt from coiling around my stomach and squeezing, unsettling it once again.
I stared down at my plate. “I don’t know. Maybe she should mind her own business.”
“Cara!” Mom warned.
Why were they ganging up on me? I slammed my fork down on the table. “What, Mom? I find my dead boyfriend and you all are accusing me of having something to do with it?”
Dad reached a hand out to me. “We weren’t—”
“You were,” I said pointedly to Madison. “I don’t need to talk to you about this. What do you know about anything?”
She shrank into her chair and tears flowed down her face.
My throat tightened. I could have put it all out there. I could have told them everything about Joe’s and my relationship. About his recreational-drug use and underage drinking. Speaking ill of the dead would only make me feel better. And I was sure another lecture would follow about the possibility of my taking part in those activities. I didn’t, but I wasn’t prepared for that headache.
“I’m going to my room,” I said, shoving the chair away from the table. I didn’t look at either of my parents or my traitorous sister. Tears hovered in the corners of my eyes, making my vision blur.
I entered my room, kicked the door closed, and went over to my desk. I crossed my arms and studied my photographs. The happy, grinning Cara from only a few weeks ago had no idea what turn her life would take. I unpinned the traditional prom photo of me and Joe. To everyone else, we seemed perfect. It was the picture I took two years to paint for the world to see. I briefly wondered if it had been worth all of it.
While I was in the shower later that morning, the doorbell rang. Twice in quick succession. Kat was still on her way home. Maybe it was Rachael and Brittany. I quickly finished up and wrapped a towel around my body. While I didn’t want to talk to my parents about what happened with Joe, I wanted to talk to someone. More specifically, my best friends. I was surprised they came over. Unlike Joe, the girls rarely came over. My house was the smallest out of the group and we found it easier to gossip without Madison and my parents in the next room. Most of the time we met at Kat’s. Her room was the farthest down one of the wings with a view of the pool house, giving us the privacy we needed.
I met Mom in the hallway. Her hands were clasped in front of her as if she were praying.
“Is it Rachael and Brittany? Give me a second to change—”
“It’s not,” she interrupted and lowered her voice. “There’s a detective here to speak with you.”
My heart leaped. “W-why is there a detective here?”
“To ask you questions about last night.”
“I already told the other policemen what happened.” What else could I possibly say?
“He promised it wouldn’t take long. I guess this is normal since you were the one to find Joe.” Mom’s voice hitched. I couldn’t bear more people crying in front of me. “You should speak to him so we can all move on.”
“Alright,” I said, wanting to be done with all of this. “Give me a minute.”
I threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top, then pulled my hair back into an elastic. I didn’t waste any more time getting decent. I wanted this over and done with. I paused by my door and took a breath before heading out to the hallway. I wasn’t sure why I was nervous. I had nothing to hide.
The detective stuck out like a sore thumb in our living room. With his dark suit and military-style buzzed hair, he looked as if he had stepped out of a television drama. It was the summer—he must have been sweltering. He was speaking to Mom when I entered the room. He turned around and I was struck by his serious expression. His sharp nose pointed accusingly at me.
He gave me a close-lipped smile sand shook my hand. “Cara, I’m Detective Devereaux.”
I shook back. “Hi.”
The room closed in around me and my head lightened. I fought to keep it together when my brain kicked in.
“Have a seat,” Mom said.
I knew she was talking to the detective but I slowly sank down the couch.
He sat on the loveseat and Mom stood behind me. I assumed Madison was still locked in her room, playing the part of the sullen teen that I should have been.
Detective Devereaux opened a small notebook and held it in front of him. “I know this is a difficult situation, Cara. And the sooner we get your statement, the sooner everything can get back to normal.”
“What about everything I told the other officers?” I asked.
The corner of his lips twitched. “Officers on the scene will take the initial information. And the statement they took wasn’t official, since you didn’t have a guardian present and you are under eighteen. It’s my job to record a more in-depth reporting of what happened.”
“I found his—him in the pool house. Dead.”
He poised his pen over the notebook. “What time did you arrive at the pool house?”
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t like I was looking at the clock.
“You don’t know?”
“It was after dinner,” I said, glancing at Mom.
“She left around five thirty,” Mom said.
He wrote that down.
“Oh, wait,” I said.
Rachael and Brittany’s text had come in as I arrived. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through the texts.
“Cara,” Mom scolded under her breath. “This isn’t the time.”
“A text came in when I arrived at Joe’s,” I explained. I found the text and read the time stamp. “Around five fifty-five.”
His eyes narrowed briefly. “Did you normally go to the Blair house unannounced?”
I fisted my damp hands in my lap. “He was my boyfriend.”
“Answer the question, please,” he said.
My shoulders tensed. “It wasn’t unannounced. We made plans earlier in the day. I told him I was coming by after dinner.”
“What else did you discuss?” Detective Devereaux asked.
I swallowed. Why did he need to know what we talked about? I tried to recall everything Joe and I said to each other that would have anything to do with his death.
“Let me rephrase,” the detective said. “What was his state of mind?”
I shrugged. “He seemed normal.” I had a feeling I knew where the detective was going with his questioning. I waited for him to ask me outright.
“Was he using at that time?”
“Using?”
“Drugs.”
“I don’t know,” I said quickly. I had an idea he was but I wasn’t looking at him with a joint in his hand. “Maybe.” My neck flushed and I could feel Mom’s stare directed at the back of my head.
“So he may or may not have been using around noon when you spoke with him.”
I let out a noncommittal sound. Why did I feel like I was on trial?
“Did he seem depressed?”
“No,” I said quickly.
The detective’s eyebrows lifted. “You seem sure about that.”
I really wished Mom weren’t in the room. But would that mean they would have to hire a lawyer? Would that make me seem guilty somehow? And I didn’t want Mom to know for sure that I was lying to her about Joe’s extracurricular activities. I decided to come out with it, expecting my parents to question me about it later.
“We were going to break up. Officially. That’s what Joe called me about. He wanted to do it in person, I guess.”
“Who initiated the breakup?”
“Both of us?” I wasn’t sure that was an option in most relationships, but it had been for us.
“So he wasn’t upset about you wanting to break it off with him?”
The detective kept coming back to how Joe was feeling. Did he think the overdose was a suicide? If there was one thing I knew about Joe, it was that he would never willingly end his life. He had too much fun flaunting his wealth and getting away with anything he wanted.
“No, not at all. He wanted to be single for his freshman year of college. And I wanted to be single for my senior year.”
“You didn’t get any idea that he was upset.”
“No.”
The detective scribbled in his notebook again and the silence of the room weighed on my shoulders. I wasn’t ready to look at Mom yet, so, instead, I stared at the scuffed tips of his shoes.
He looked up at me again, his pen poised on the paper. “What time did you speak with Joseph Blair yesterday?”
“Around noon,” I replied.
“The ME puts the time of death between two and four yesterday afternoon,” he said as if he were lining up my story with his.
My mouth dried up like the desert. The question popped into my head again. Could I have saved him if I’d gone over earlier?
A small sound escaped Mom. I couldn’t bear to turn around and see her face. I knew I’d break down if I did.
“When you were in the pool house, did you touch anything?” he asked.
I rubbed my hands against the cushions, thinking of the note burning a hole in my desk drawer. Would I get in trouble for taking it? I didn’t see how it would be relevant to the case. I took a second, pretending to think about it. “No.”
“No?”
“No.”
He licked his lips. “So you didn’t touch the body?”
My mouth popped open and I stuttered through my response. “Yes, I touched him to see if he was sleeping.”
“So you did touch something at the scene.”
I cleared my throat. “Joe. I touched Joe. That’s it.”
He nodded and scribbled something in his notebook. Probably the word “LIAR” in big, bold letters.
The rest of his questions were similar to the ones I’d answered the night before. I stumbled over some of them as I remembered the feel of Joe’s stiff body under my fingertips and seeing his blank expression. I knew without a fact that I’d never forget last night. Every single detail was branded in my memory. My hands fidgeted in my lap.
Mom must have noticed my discomfort. “How many more questions do you have, Detective? My daughter is clearly distraught.”
While Mom spoke, the detective didn’t take his eyes off me. It was as if he were waiting for me to tell him something he didn’t already know.
He licked his lips and flipped his notebook closed. “That would be all for today.” He gave us a curt nod and stood. “I thank you for your time. I will be in touch. I can show myself out.”
I got up too, keeping my gaze on his. I hoped my expression was calm, even though my heart banged in my chest in time with each step he took.
When the door closed behind him, I sat on the edge of the couch, replaying the answers I gave in my mind. Mom sat next to me and wrapped her arm around my shoulder, pulling me to her. Joe’s death was an accident. So why did I have a suspicion that the detective thought I had something to do with it?
Chapter 5 (#ulink_ad924b81-e3e9-580f-b3c7-bb364db450c3)
Turns out that wasn’t the last I heard from Detective Devereaux. The next day, a phone call from the police station came bright and early asking me and my parents to come downtown to answer more questions.
“I don’t know what else to tell them,” I’d said after Mom told me about the phone call.
“I’m sure they’ll let us know when we get there” was all she’d said.
Kat sent me and the girls a text when she arrived home but her parents weren’t allowing visitors to the house. I assumed they were keeping curious eyes away from the scene of Joe’s death while grieving. I understood completely, while Rachael and Brittany bombarded my phone with texts trying to persuade me to sneak over to the house with them to see Kat. I didn’t think they wanted to appear uncaring; in fact, I think they wanted to support our best friend, but they were going about it the wrong way.
I decided to keep quiet to everyone about going to the police station. I thought Detective Devereaux was going overboard for an overdose, but I didn’t want that comment to get back to Kat and somehow make her more upset. I knew how quickly a comment or story could turn into something else when others decided to put their own spin on it. I’d been the victim of that a few times since the beginning of our friendship.
When we arrived that morning at the station, I expected to see the detective right away. Instead, I was taken down a hallway and told to stop in front of a random table. The gruff officer instructed me to stand there while he opened a few drawers and pulled out a sheet of paper and an ink pad.
“Excuse me,” Dad said. “Are you going to fingerprint my daughter?”
The officer cleared his throat, there was enough mucous rattling around in there to choke a horse.
I swallowed, unable to hide my grimace.
“I’m following orders, Mr. Daniels. You can take it up with Detective Devereaux if you’d like, but I can guarantee she won’t get out of it. Might as well let it happen.”
Mom looked from Dad to the officer. “Is she being charged with something?”
“Not as far as I know. Since she is closely affiliated with the victim, her prints will help differentiate the others at the scene,” the officer said. “Place your thumb here, miss.”
My eyes snapped to his, then slid over to my parents. Dad let out a deep exhale and nodded.
Mom still glared at the officer.
I did as he asked, wanting this humiliation to be over as soon as possible. The girls would never let this go if they saw me being fingerprinted. I had no intention of taking up a life of crime but I didn’t like having my fingerprints in whatever records they kept.
Afterward, we were told to go into a waiting area. We sat there for about fifteen minutes. Mom grumbled to Dad about the detective not being transparent about the visit while she was on the phone with him. Dad tried to calm her down.
My nerve endings fired all at once when I saw Detective Devereaux coming down the hall toward us.
He shook hands with my parents, then me. For the briefest moment, he looked at my hand. I suspected he wanted to make sure I had been fingerprinted, adding more fuel to the fire burning inside of me. The ink hadn’t successfully come off even after I scrubbed them, so I hoped he’d be satisfied with the amount of humiliation I suffered.
“I’d like to have a word with you, Mr. and Mrs. Daniels,” Detective Devereaux said, then turned to me. “We won’t be long.”
He turned around and walked away.
Mom squeezed my hand and then took Dad’s before walking away.
I slumped into the uncomfortable plastic chair and waited. I flipped through my phone. There weren’t any unread texts. I suspected Kat had more things to worry about, while Rachael and Brittany were waiting for her to initiate the conversation. Good. I didn’t want to make up any excuses on my location. I sat there for another thirty minutes, waiting for my parents to come back.
A door behind me opened and I glanced over my shoulder. I expected a hardened criminal to appear, struggling against officers. A stark contrast to me, furthering the point that I didn’t belong in a police station.
Instead, a familiar strawberry blonde entered the waiting room and sat in one of the chairs across the room.
Her blue eyes met mine and widened immediately. Kat hugged her purse against her body and launched from the bench and headed over to me. I looked around for her parents but I didn’t see them. Were they being interrogated like my parents were?
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She tugged at the ends of her hair. She was nervous.
For some reason, that relaxed me a little bit. “They called me in here to do fingerprinting.” I showed her my hands for effect.
She turned hers over too, the pads of her fingers gray like mine. “I can’t get this crap off. I feel like a criminal!” she moaned.
“The officer said they were excluding our fingerprints from others at the scene. Do they really think someone else did this to Joe?”
She scoffed. “Well, duh. That’s why we’re doing all of this and why they’re holding his body for another day.”
I frowned. “Holding his body where?”
“At the morgue.” She sniffed and pulled a tissue from her purse, dabbing her eyes. She was making her mascara smudge more but I didn’t dare tell her. “Did you say something to them?”
“About what?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there. They seem to think his death wasn’t accidental. Which is ridiculous. Everyone loved Joe.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“So what did you say to make them think otherwise?” Her eyes narrowed.
“N-nothing,” I stammered. “Maybe they’re looking into all possibilities.” I recalled Detective Devereaux’s icy glare from yesterday’s questioning. He had suspected something from the beginning. I wondered how long it would take him to figure out he was wrong.
“Maybe,” Kat said wistfully. “Mom is freakin’ out over the arrangements. She wanted to have the wake and funeral as soon as possible. So the news that they were holding the body longer made her flip.”
“I can imagine.”
“Can you?” Kat said, looking through me.
I swallowed. “Not actually, but I—”
Her chin dropped to her chest. “I’m taking my frustration out on you. Sorry. This really sucks.”
I patted her shoulder, unsure of what else to say. I didn’t want to get on her bad side again.
“Where are your parents?” I asked.
“They’ll be up here shortly. I couldn’t stand being downstairs any longer.”
“Downstairs?”
She sighed dramatically. “At the morgue. God! Are you even listening?”
“Yeah, sorry,” I said, mentally chastising myself. Kat was obviously grieving and I didn’t want to continually upset her delicate state.
“Anyway,” she said, turning in her seat. “How long are they going to be down there?”
I had a sneaking suspicion that she wanted to be anywhere but there. It was understandable but a niggling sensation made me think it had more to do with me instead of her state of mind. It was the same sensation that lived with me for many years until I found my place in our group.
My parents came around the corner. It was only the two of them, no Detective Devereaux in sight. I stood up and went to them.
“What did he want?” I asked.
Mom looked to Dad, then back to me. “He asked us some questions.”
“About what?”
“Let’s talk about this later,” Dad said and walked past me.
I turned to see him talking to Kat. She offered him a brave smile and my heart broke for her. As much as the detective annoyed me, I could imagine whatever suspicion he had about Joe’s death putting a bigger strain on her family.
Mom offered her condolences, too, and asked Kat if she wanted us to sit with her until her parents arrived.
“No, thanks,” Kat said. “I’ll be fine.”
Dad hesitated but with a nudge from me he gave in to her wishes.
My parents headed toward the exit.
“Call me if you need to talk,” I said. “Any time, day or night.”
The polite smile she offered to my parents had faded. Her gaze wandered the room, pausing everywhere except for me. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” she said in a flat voice.
I hesitated, wanting to decipher what her change in attitude meant. I didn’t have a chance, since she turned on her heel, leaving me standing alone watching her walk away. I knew Kat did this; she always pushed people away when something negatively affected her. And this situation was no different. She needed my support as much as I needed hers. Even if at the moment she didn’t want it.
E (#ulink_12af4230-0ba4-54f5-a2df-4fd2ac63c4f9)
With each sharp inhale, the scent of the seawater filled my nose; my chest ached with the need to return home to my sanctuary. The air in Chester Bay, especially by the water, helped ease my nerves. A pair of joggers came toward me from the distance. I flipped my hood and cinched the strings tight, masking my face. Under the cover of early morning and later evenings I was able to rid myself of the plastic prison that concealed my identity.
The need to run had been ingrained in my body for years. Anger and frustration that appeared out of thin air at a moment’s notice were pushed aside. My mind was clear and that was exactly what I needed to formulate the next steps of my plan.
The man and woman passed, both of them nodding a hello. I dipped my chin lower, ignoring them. I doubted they would be so kind if they saw my face.
After picking up my pace to distance myself, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure they were gone. Their bodies were far in the distance.
I’d already done several laps, enough for now, even though I still had no idea where I was going to live for my stay in town. I packed light, my backpack had all the supplies I needed and currently resided in a paid locker by the bathrooms on the beach. I had a few things to pick up and didn’t find it necessary to lug them around before I needed them. I had enough money to cover the expenses when the time came.
I took a break, finding a bench to sit on. I scanned the area and it was clear of any people. I dropped the hood and traced the thick lines across the top of my head. The bench faced a playground. I could almost hear the laughter of the children from the swing sets and their glee as they glided down the plastic slides. The tinkling chains on the clatter bridge filled my ears like the echo of children running across it.
Had Sylvia played here when she was little? I imagined her face and how it had morphed over the years to a beautiful, ethereal teenager. Something inside me stirred.
A loud horn blasted in the distance and I turned around to see a large boat floating over the water further out to sea. I smiled. Fate had once again steered in my direction.
It was the fastest way to get her home, avoiding any chance of being followed. I shook my head. Why didn’t I think of it before? It was perfect. In my isolation over the years, Father taught me how to run a boat and with access to the ocean; my plan started to formulate.
I took a deep breath, embracing the sea air, allowing it to flow through me, to inspire and invigorate me.
My muscles buzzed with repressed energy and I stood from the bench and continued my jog back down the boardwalk. I steadied my breathing while picking up my pace.
Further down the way, someone stood outside one of the storefronts. I moved to the other side of the boardwalk and flipped my hood over my head once more. The closer I got, the more I could make out the person. He carried a bundle of newspapers and stacked them on the stand outside of the store. Something inside made me slow down. I pretended to stretch my quadriceps while watching him. Another man came from the store and handed the delivery man an envelope.
The store owner lifted the top paper and clicked his tongue. “What a tragedy.”
“Tell me about it,” the delivery guy said, peering into the envelope. He seemed satisfied and tucked it into his back pocket.
“His parents own most of the places on this strip and a few other big complexes in town. Just goes to show that money doesn’t mean immortality.”
I glanced over my shoulder and saw the color photo on the front page. It was a picture of the boy I killed.
Chapter 6 (#ulink_d3fd64ba-8aa2-5840-9797-1f3d0fbd01fb)
The services for Joe took place later that week. My parents and I stayed for most of the wake. The funeral home was packed with people in support of the Blair family. Joe’s family members, whom I’d got to know over the years at holidays and other celebrations, approached me and hugged me. I offered condolences, while they did the same.
My parents were only children, so we didn’t have a big family. Ever since I entered the inner circle of the Blair family, I always looked forward to these events that I’d never be able to experience in my own family. Mom, Dad, and Madison seemed content with this, but I never did. They were happy enough to be small while I always had the yearning for more. It was a distinct divide in our family but there was nothing I could do.
It had already been raining for some time when I woke up the morning of the funeral. The sky was gray and thick clouds blocked any sun from peeking through. The leaves on the trees were slick with rain and twitched as the rain picked up again.
At the church, I sat with my parents and Madison. Rachael and Brittany had managed to get seats together and with their parents. Mom had insisted we show up early to get a seat together. As she suspected, the church filled quickly and soon enough there were people standing behind the last pew.
It didn’t matter that I was separated from my friends, it wasn’t as if we could socialize during the service. We’d meet up at the reception later.
At the cemetery, my parents, Madison, and I squeezed under one umbrella. I had a consistent trail of rain assaulting my head the entire time. And, by the time I got into Dad’s Jeep, I was soaked and sweaty from the heat. I shoved back my damp hair, which had been wild and frizzy that morning. I didn’t prefer either look. I worked my fingers through my hair and started to braid it.
The gentle patter of the raindrops against the plastic window accelerated as a loud boom of thunder rumbled in the distance.
Mom and Dad got into the car and Mom’s perfume filled the small space. She opened the glove compartment to retrieve a travel-sized pouch of tissues. She blotted the damp bags under her eyes and sniffled. She offered the tissues to Madison and me.
Most of the black-clad mourners were already in their cars and off to the reception. Streaks of water distorted the view through the window. One person was left at the service even after the priest had gone. He or she wore a long, dark trench coat and had a small, cheap-looking umbrella that bowed under the weight of the rain. A gloved hand placed the final rose atop the coffin.
I shivered as the cool air from the air conditioner struck me, turning my attention away from the coffin, and I said my final goodbye to Joe.
The reception was held in the ballroom of a country club that the Blairs belonged to, a place I’d been to only a handful of times. The exclusivity for members was lifted only for certain events.
Cream-colored gathered fabric billowed from the ceiling. The edges cascaded down to the spaces between the large French doors open to the stone patio and golf course. The rain pattering against the stone brought a more somber tone to the normally breathtaking view. Plush leather chairs outlined the dozen or so tables filling the room.
In the minutes from the cemetery to the reception, Rachael and Brittany had changed into black frilly party dresses instead of their more church-appropriate attire. I noticed their hairstyles were different, too. I assumed the humidity and rain had done the same tricks to their hair as they had mine. Rachael’s thick black hair was braided in a fishtail, while Brittany had a caramel-colored bun at the top of her head. I suddenly felt overdressed and plain compared with them, a feeling I hadn’t had in quite some time.
Rachael looped her arm with mine and we went in search of Kat. I tried to walk off the wetness in my shoes, which made an embarrassing squeaking sound as I walked. Thankfully neither of the girls commented on it. Last year, I’d found the shoes on an online bargain store. They were almost identical to a pair that Kat had that were almost triple the price.
Kat leaned against the bar, the string of diamond earrings pulling at her earlobes. They were a gift from her mother a few Christmases ago. She pulled them out only for special occasions. If they were mine, I would have locked them in a safe for fear of losing such an expensive present.
She sipped from a martini glass and placed it on the bar, signaling the bartender for another round. He eyed her suspiciously but said nothing when she glared at him.
From working parties at the inn, I knew that look. He wondered if being fired over carding her would be worth her wrath. He made the better choice.
She saw us coming and tossed back the drink and handed the glass to her cousin. I think his name was Brad. I’d met him only once before. His leering expression, aimed at us, made me want to gag.
“I need to get out of here,” Kat said, brushing past us.
We followed her into the hallway. Several people offered her condolences on the way out and she politely greeted them. Kat’s pace picked up, her heels clacking against the marble floor. The three of us struggled to keep up with her.
She turned the corner onto a carpeted floor—my feet silently thanked her—and pushed her way into another room.
Inside was a sitting room with gaudy floral wallpaper. I assumed we were in an older part of the country club. Kat plopped down on a settee and draped her arm over her forehead.
I sat next to her and Rachael and Brittany sat on a smaller loveseat across the room.
“How’re you doing?” I asked.
“How do you think I’m doing?” Kat snapped. She sighed and dropped her arm. “This whole situation is a freakin’ drag. I wish this part would be over.”
“I know,” I said, and gave a look to the other girls to say something to Kat. If a situation didn’t involve heavy partying, they needed to be nudged.
“We should do something fun!” Brittany said. “To take your mind off everything.”
I cringed.
Kat’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “My brother is dead, Britt. This isn’t supposed to be fun.”
“I meant—”
“Just stop,” Kat said.
I touched Kat’s shoulder and she jumped up to standing. She crossed the room to the bank of mirrors on the wall. She dug into her clutch and pulled out a small pink tube, then smeared a new coat of gloss over her lips.
I gave the girls a look and both of them stood at the same time and rushed over to Kat. I quickly fell into step.
“I know I’m being a brat.” Kat placed her hands on the counter and looked at us through the mirror. “It’s just tough, you know? Joe may have been an annoying big brother but he was mine.”
“We understand,” Rachael said.
Kat rolled her eyes. “You don’t understand: you’re an only child.”
I sensed another freak-out. Kat always pushed us away when she was upset. It was one of her consistent traits, heightened this time by Joe’s death.
“I have to pee,” I blurted. “Kat?”
Kat grabbed my arm and pulled me into the attached bathroom and closed the door behind us.
I was surprised Rachael and Brittany picked up on the hint and stayed away.
I went into the first stall and sat.
Kat remained outside the stall facing the mirror behind the bank of sinks. “Only children don’t understand.”
A choked sob from Kat made me finish up more quickly.
I came out of the stall and washed my hands and gauged my friend—the ticking time bomb. Kat wasn’t the touchy-feely type, so I didn’t offer a hug. She needed emotional support and I would be there for her. A tiny thrill came over me that she hadn’t snapped at me yet. Having a sister put me on a higher pedestal in Kat’s current state of mind.
“I still don’t get it,” Kat said.
I grabbed several paper towels and dried my hands. “What do you mean?”
She turned to face me. “Joe going over the edge like that. I don’t get it.” I turned to the trash basket, avoiding her eyes. “Why didn’t you do more to stop him?”
I dropped the towels into the trash and slowly turned to face her. “What?”
“Everyone except my clueless parents knew he liked to party. But he’d have no reason to if you were a better girlfriend.”
I blinked a few times. This had to be some sort of joke.
Kat wasn’t smiling. Her eyes were clearer than I’d seen in days. Realization flooded me and a sick feeling pooled in my stomach.
She planned this conversation and I’d given her the perfect opportunity.
“Joe did what he wanted,” I said. “That’s not my fault.”
“You could have stopped him. He listened to you. You might as well have killed him yourself.”
“Kat, that’s—”
“Don’t act so surprised. He told me you’ve been avoiding him while I was away.”
I took a breath. “I needed a break.”
Her lips quirked. “And the truth comes out.”
“What truth?”
“I had a feeling you were only with him to get in good with us.”
“That’s ridiculous I—” I swallowed, unable to finish my sentence. For a second, I felt the same as Brittany and Rachael did several minutes ago with Kat’s cutting glare slicing me at the knees. I wanted to crawl under the sink until the reception was over.
Kat had a similar thought. “I think you should go.”
I didn’t have a response. It wasn’t until she left the room and I heard the door close that I knew I was no longer wanted.
Chapter 7 (#ulink_25deda74-3fcf-58b8-b9ac-264381fd5b8b)
It had been almost a week since I’d heard from Kat or the other girls. The fireworks had come and gone. I doubted Kat or the girls had attended. It was too soon for any type of celebration after Joe’s untimely death. I hadn’t been contacted by the detective, though I had nightmares that he lived in my house and continued his interrogation of me. I wasn’t sure why I was so freaked out by him. There was something off that I couldn’t put my finger on, though each day without hearing from him made me a little more able to move on from the horrific scene that replayed over and over in my head. Joe had been laid to rest and I’d find some way to repair the friendship with Kat and the girls.
It wasn’t the first time Kat had shut any of us out and encouraged the other two to do the same. Last fall, we closed out Rachael for several days after she spilled her chai latte on Kat’s shoes. Kat got over it, but I suspected this situation was so much worse. She managed to see right through me and I wondered how long she had been waiting to turn the tables on me like that. Taking extra hours at the inn filled my time while I waited for Kat to stop being mad at me.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” some guy drawled from Table 5.
“I’ll be right with you,” I said with a forced smile. I was helping the busboys turn over the tables for the guests while serving coffee refills. The portly customer had already had three refills in the last forty minutes, and the line for tables grew exponentially in that time.
I hoped for a big tip, but I doubted he even noticed his rudeness.
I offered the carafe of coffee to the man. “More coffee?”
“Yes, please.” His thick, white eyebrows rose as his eyes settled on my chest.
I poured his refill and scooted away, hoping he burned his tongue. I normally didn’t mind sharing my time with the serving staff at the inn but I preferred the more solitary tasks where the tourists didn’t stare down my shirt.
I scanned the room and no one needed coffee for the moment. I hid behind the partition where the coffee and other drinks were prepared and buttoned my white shirt all the way to the top before checking my phone. All of my texts to Kat, Brittany and Rachael were unanswered. Even the group conversation I started with them.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket just as Dad entered the dining room. I busied myself with making another pot of coffee. He never played favorites, especially with me, and being on the phone at work was discouraged.
“How’s it going, Carebear?” he asked in a chipper voice. It was his “work” voice. He was a nice man outside of work but he was extra peppy to the employees, and apparently that meant me, too.
I cringed at the nickname. “Dad,” I mumbled. “Not here, okay?”
His smile didn’t falter. “Sorry.”
“What’s up?” I asked. Dad rarely left the front of the inn, oscillating between the check-in desk and his office.
“I spoke with Trudy this morning.”
“Mrs. Talbot? How is she?” Trudy Talbot—a four-time widow—had bought the inn five years ago with the money all of her rich husbands left. She had the building renovated and expanded the blueprint to include more rooms, a full bar and restaurant, and banquet hall. The inn now resembled a five-star hotel, but she kept the “inn” as part of the name for those who were long-time customers. She had a knack for details and insisted on a personal relationship with upper management, especially my dad.
“She’s in France this summer.” The relief on his face shone through. “I told her how well you were doing in this ‘floater’ position and, with the summer being our busiest season, she insisted that I hire at least one other person to help out.”
I slid him a glance. “As long as you don’t cut my hours.”
His eyebrows rose. “I’d never dream of it.”
“Good.” I had my eye set on a few used cars and I couldn’t afford the pay cut.
“Would any of your friends be interested?”
My finger paused over the brew button on the coffee maker. “In working?”
“Yes.”
Other than the fact they weren’t speaking to me, the idea of working at all, never mind during the summer, would be another nail in my coffin. “No.”
“Oh. Okay, then. I’ll put an ad out.”
He stood there for a moment and I looked up at him.
“Is there anything else?” I asked.
He took a breath before speaking. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Dad.” My parents had asked me that question numerous times a day since the funeral. I alternated between “fine” and “okay,” wishing they would get the hint.
“You haven’t been hanging out with your friends lately.”
He was observant. One of Dad’s best qualities was his ability to ignore the social obligations of his daughter. I knew Mom had something to do with this. Sometimes her obsession with my life bordered on stalking. She meant well, but I never understood why she didn’t obsess over Madison’s life like she did mine.
“Kat’s grieving,” I said, shrugging off his line of questioning. “I need to get back to work.”
He nodded and said goodbye.
When he was out of sight, I checked my phone again and stared at the empty screen for a few moments before shoving it and all thoughts of Kat out of my head.
That afternoon, I walked down the boardwalk that stretched the length of the beach. Innumerable tourists with their vibrantly colored blankets and giant umbrellas peppered the sand.
I avoided a near-collision with a fast-moving volleyball that someone spiked a little too hard. Two shirtless guys came bounding by, their bare feet stomping across the wood.
Skinny seagulls cried as they nose-dived for dropped food near the vendors. In a few weeks, they would be waddling across the beach, picking up scraps to fill their newly rotund stomachs.
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