by Jill Cooper
“Is this a picnic?” I tuck my hair behind my ears and can feel my cheeks flushing hot.
Cameron shrugs. “I wouldn’t call it a picnic. Just some subs I picked up, drinks, and a blanket. Huh, I guess it is a picnic.”
“It’s sweet. Thank you.” We sit down on the blanket across from each other. I unwrap the foil around my cold cut sub. Salivating already from the smell of spicy ham and cheese, slathered in mustard. “You know, I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until this very moment.”
“Be my guest,” Cameron says as he unwraps his own submarine sandwich, and then he pops the top off his root beer soda.
I try to be delicate, but there’s no way not to tear into that sub. I dab away the mustard on the corner of my mouth. “It’s really good. Thank you.” I cover my mouth so he doesn’t see the inside of my mouth while I chew.
“My pleasure. I figure maybe you might need it after last night. You okay?”
I nod. “Mostly. Sleeping was rough, but I’m better. I might not have been if you hadn’t been there.” Of course, I have to wonder why he was there. He didn’t seem to be working there, and he was in no rush to get back to whoever he was there with. “Do you go to the drive-in often?”
“Sunday nights. The tickets are discounted, and it gives me a chance to get out of the house. My mom is what you might call highly motivated. She’s always on my case.”
I could understand that. “My mom can be uptight, too, but I kind of deserve it. I got in trouble back home for…borrowing cars without permission.”
Cameron sits back a bit. “Damn, that does sound major league. At least for me.”
He didn’t go running for the hills, so that was something. “I learned my lesson—trust me. Now I’m here and starting over.”
“Meanwhile, you’re still looking into the homecoming queen’s murder, eh? That has to be making some impressions.”
“I do the best I can.”
“If you need someone to do any leg work, call on me. I don’t have a tie to anyone here really, and I’d love to help out. See what’s laying beneath the surface of this town.”
“You feel it, too, huh?”
Cameron nods. “Since the second I got here. I feel like outsiders aren’t really welcomed into the fold.”
“Agreed, this town is filled with people who have lived here their whole lives. There are unspoken rules everywhere.” I drop my voice as the door downstairs opens.
“Shit,” Cameron whispers, and we both scamper behind some black chests, like the type that stagehands use for storing equipment. I peer over the top as Mr. Davis enters, and there’s a tall shadow following beside him.
“I told you,” the headmaster says, “it’s not safe to drop by now.”
“She’ll drop the case soon,” a male voice says, but I’m not able to see who it is. Could it be Martin?
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’ll take care of it. Soon, she’ll be too scared to keep going.”
I glance at Cameron, and I shiver involuntarily. He clutches my hand for support.
“No more violence.” Mr. Davis’ voice is stern and adamant. “I can’t keep the police off my back if anyone gets hurt.”
“I won’t hurt her. Trust me. I won’t have to. Her imagination will do the rest. Just give me some time. Meanwhile, tell the mayor you’ll write her another check.”
The mayor? Rebecca Hale. No wonder she had me escorted off the premises of the fundraiser. She’s keeping things quiet for Gregory Academy. I can’t say it’s a shock. Mr. Davis probably brings in a lot of money for the town, but if the mayor knows what they’re covering up, she’s just as guilty as he is.
The door opens again, and they both walk out. Cameron has his eyebrows raised. “Whatever it is you’ve stumbled into , I doubt there’s any way out now.”
The only way out was through. I had to solve this thing before Mr. Davis put me out of business—permanently.
After lunch, I return to Ms. Marvel’s classroom and peer inside. She can’t see me yet, but she’s sitting at her desk, grading papers, and eating apple slices with peanut butter. She pushes her hair from her face and glances up. I duck back behind the door frame and stay there until I think the coast is clear. When I peek again, she’s staring at me with her hands folded on the desk.
“Jessica?” She raises an eyebrow with interest. “Is everything okay?”
“Sorry.” I cringe. “I don’t mean to stare. Or stalk you. I just…I have a question.” I enter the room and fuss with the bottom of my skirt. I don’t know why I feel the need to be extra presentable with her; maybe I’m just nervous.
“Anything. What is it?” She nods to a chair as if she wants me to sit, but I choose to stand.
“You’re…Jennifer Hornsby. I mean, aren’t you? Or you were?” I sound like such a weeny, and I tug on my fingers.
She stares up at me in shock, and a slow realization spreads across her face. “I am,” she says softly. “You’ve been looking into Amber, haven’t you? There have been whispers through the school from Mr. Davis. Nothing concrete, but the staff has begun to…talk.”
I nod. “I’m new to town, and I look so much like her, I can’t help it.” Adding and now, I think my life might be in danger, seemed too melodramatic, so instead, I say, “Someone has been trying to scare me off the case.”
Jennifer nods and looks tragically sad. “Amber was my best friend. I know I was hers, too, but I wasn’t able to help her.”
“Will you tell me more about her?” Ms. Marvel was there. She had seen things firsthand that I needed to know, and if she’ll actually talk to me about them…
“I’ve been waiting to talk to you since the moment I saw you.” She glances toward the door to her classroom. “Not here. After school, if you’ll come to my house, there’s something I need to show you.”
My heart skips a beat. “I’d love that. Thanks, Ms. Marvel.”
She writes her address on a piece of scrap paper and hands it to me. “Keep this to yourself. Don’t trust anyone.”
Seems like a common theme, and it’s one I can’t seem to avoid. “I promise.”
“Not because your friends can’t be trusted, but anyone can be listening. Things are different here in Bay Harbor.”
“I know. This place likes its secrets.”
She leans forward and whispers, “It breeds secrets.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I skip across town after school. The first thing I do is tell Winnie I’m going to be late showing up to her place. I head toward the pizza shop where Ms. Marvel wants to meet. My phone rings as I enter the pizza shop, and the divine smell of dough and tomato sauce brings my senses to life. Hello?”
“I think I’m on the right track with the cell.” Maxx talks fast as the excitement bubbles out of her. “I might get it tonight.”
“That would be amazing. If you do, call me. I’ll head right over.” Investigating a murder sure did keep a person busy. My social calendar had never been so full.
I slide the phone back into my pocket and scan the pizza place. It’s full here after school, and the warm smells of tomato sauce and basil awaken my hunger. Finally, my eyes fall to Ms. Marvel, sitting at a table toward the back of the restaurant. Her eyes brighten when she spots me, and I hurry over to her.
“Sorry you had to wait.” I sit down in front of her.
“It’s no trouble at all.” She keeps her hands under the table, and it’s clear from her expression that she has something she wants to tell me. “I’ve been watching you the last few days, and it’s remarkable how much you look like her. You even move like her sometimes.”
I nearly laugh from my nerves, but I do my best to keep it all in check. “I feel connected to Amber. I want to do what is right by her. What happened… She didn’t deserve it.”
“I’m not sure any do.” She takes a sip of her coffee, and from how she wets her lips, I think she’s nervous. “I knew Amber for a long time. We were like sisters. She
stayed with me when her parents were…how much do you know?”
“Enough. I know there was a baby who died. And Amber’s real name was Tessie.”
Ms. Marvel cringes. “It still sounds weird to hear her real name, but you’re not wrong. Anyway, she stayed with us until homecoming. Amber grew more and more distant. I wasn’t even sure if she’d attend the homecoming dance. She had a lot on her mind, but Jackson made sure she did. When she won, I thought everything would blow over.”
“But, it didn’t?”
Ms. Marvel shakes her head. “Jackson and Martin got into a big fight. Martin thought Jackson wasn’t doing enough to show his support. He thought his family could protect Amber. Everyone saw their fistfight break out, and at first, it was kind of cool, but the way Jackson wailed on him, it scared me.”
“Did it scare Amber?”
She nods. “How could it not? She was crying when she ran off. Everyone was concerned she shouldn’t be driving in such an emotional state. Carolyn and I went after her.”
Carolyn, well, that piques my interest. “And that’s when she…disappeared?”
Ms. Marvel nods. “Yeah.” The way she says the word is higher pitched, and as she sips her coffee, I realize she’s covering.
“Did you see her again? Before she died?”
“I didn’t see her, but…” she drops her voice and looks around. “What I know, I’ve hidden a long time. A long time. If the police found out I lied to them all those years ago, I could get in a lot of trouble.”
“If they found out what?” I lean across the table. “What is it you know that they don’t?”
“Amber, Carolyn and I….” Ms. Marvel sighs, and a cry escapes her lips. “We helped Amber disappear that night. She was never supposed to turn up dead.”
I’m frozen into place as the realization hits me. “She was running away.” I think back to the letter I found in Amber’s old room. “She was running away to go live with Cathy—her real mother.”
Ms. Marvel clenches her napkin, and tears glisten in her eyes. “We said goodbye to Amber and sent her on a bus. Once she was gone, Carolyn and I set the car up to wreck on the cliffs. We wanted to make it look like no one could’ve survived. Amber was really insistent that no one find her. She was afraid the Chetwoods and Jackson would never give up looking. She needed space. I didn’t agree with what she was doing, but I know how tired she was. How scared. She just wanted to get away for a little while.”
“What was she afraid of?”
Ms. Marvel looks around. “Jackson’s mother. Penelope had offered Amber money to leave town and threatened her with what would happen if she wouldn’t leave Jackson alone. I think if Amber could’ve taken Jackson with her, she would’ve. But something shifted in her the last month leading up to homecoming. Her priorities were different. I never saw her that scared before. I think something happened that I don’t know about.”
“But no idea what?”
Ms. Marvel shakes her head. “Sorry. As far as I know, neither Jackson nor his mom ever figured out what we had done. When Carolyn’s wedding engagement to Jackson was announced, well, I was livid. I knew she hadn’t told Jackson but instead used his heartbreak against him. I wanted to tell him, but a few days later, Amber’s body was found. She really was dead this time.” Her lips tremble, and she presses a napkin to them.
I purse my lips together. “I’m sorry.”
But Ms. Marvel wasn’t done with her story yet. “The police tried to sell the story that Amber had been dead all along. But I knew that wasn’t true. I saw her get on that bus. Plus…I had these.” She opens her big blue purse and pulls out a short stack of envelopes. They are tied together with blue and white twine.
I sit up straighter. “What are those?”
“Letters from Amber. I received one a month or so for eight months. Then they stopped. It was a few months later the police found Amber’s body floating in the harbor. I knew these letters were proof something else happened to her. For some reason, she had come back to Bay Harbor, but no one ever saw her again. She never got in touch with me or Jackson.” Ms. Marvel blinks tears from her eyes and slides the letters over toward me.
I stare down at them. “You’re giving them to me?”
She nods. “Amber said I would know when the time was right to pass them on. And I do. You look like her. You act like her. You have to be the one she meant.”
I scowl, and my eyebrows pinch together. I don’t know how that can be true. “What do you mean?”
Ms. Marvel licks her lips. Suddenly she looks unsure of herself. “Read the letters. Then I think you’ll know.” She pushes the letters toward me again. “Once you’ve read them, let’s talk. I think you’ll be ready.”
She stands up and marches out of the pizzeria. I spin in my seat to watch her go. I have more questions than answers at this point. I snatch up the letters and put them into my purse. I want to read them, but I can’t, not here. I need to be home and in private if they’re as explosive as I think.
As I’m leaving, I scroll through my messages and see Maxx had sent two text messages while I was talking to Jenny Marvel.
The phone powered up. You’re not going to believe what I found.
When can you come over? 262 Broadway Lane. Hurry.
I quickly text back, I’m leaving now. I’ll be there soon as I can!
I bring up my GPS and see the address is pretty far. So, I summon an Uber driver. Who knew this small town even had them? I guess everyone needs a side gig.
Once I’m sitting comfortably in the back of the Uber, I call Maxx to check-in. She picks up but doesn’t say anything. “I’m on my way.” I pause and wait for her to respond. “Maxx? Are you there?”
Then I hear it. A gurgling gasp for breath. My heart races, and I lean forward, the phone tightly pressed against my ear. “Maxx?”
The sound of her breathing cuts out, and I know the call has ended. When I call back, there’s no answer, and it goes straight to voicemail. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.
I tap my driver on the shoulder. “Hurry already. Step on it!”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I pop the door open before my driver has finished pulling over to the curb. We’re in a residential cul-de-sac, and Maxx’s family home is up twenty stone steps. There’s an orange glow coming from the windows on the bottom floor. Maybe I’m freaking out for no reason, and I’m making a big deal over nothing, but I race up the stairs, two at a time. “Maxx?” I call out and ring the doorbell.
I knock on the glass window, just in case. I can’t see inside thanks to the shade being drawn down. If I bend down, all I can see is a tiny sliver of the floor and a pair of black work boots stepping around an area rug. The pant leg looks too big to be Maxx, but it could be her father.
But why wouldn’t he answer the door?
I hold my purse strap close to my body and knock again. There’s no movement inside now that the man has stepped out of view. I try the handle, and the wooden door pops open. There’s damage along the doorjamb like a screwdriver was used to jimmy the door open.
“Maxx?” I call out as I step into the living room and gaze around. It’s contemporary with soft lighting and a mix of old and new furniture. I don’t see anything out of place as I give it a once over. Turning around, I stare into the kitchen—the lights above the farmhouse sink and the kitchen island light the way.
My eyes are drawn to the phone on the hardwood floors. Beside it, a hand. Maxx is on the floor behind the island.
“Maxx!” I shriek as I run over to her. I crouch beside her fallen body and touch her forehead. There’s so much blood, a puddle spreads out from beneath her neck, and the smell of it hits me like a semi-truck. Her throat is slashed wide open, and her eyes stare up at the ceiling.
I’m too late. I’m already too late.
I whimper as I touch my finger to her wrist, just to make sure, but there’s nothing. I bite my lip, and my mind reels. What do I do? What the hell am I suppo
sed to do? Maxx is dead, and there’s nothing I can do.
My fingers are shaking as I rustle through my purse until I find my phone. I dial 911, and I word vomit all over the woman who answers the phone. She tells me to calm down, and I’m shrieking, “How can I calm down? My friend is dead!” It’s when I start to cry and blubber like an idiot that I hear a noise.
Creaking.
It’s coming from upstairs.
“He’s still in the house,” I whisper. “He’s still here.”
“Miss, if you’re in danger, I’m going to need you to step outside. Get somewhere safe while the police arrive. It’ll be five minutes or less. Do not go looking for this person, understood?”
“Yes.” I swallow hard and rise to my feet. I realize I’ve been kneeling in Maxx’s blood. My stomach does somersaults, and I fight the urge to vomit all over the kitchen floor.
“Stay on the line, okay? Tell me when you’re outside.”
“I just…” Upstairs the footsteps draw closer to the stairway. “Sure.” I turn the phone off and place it in my purse. Meanwhile, I scan for something I can use to defend myself. I grab a knife from the butcher block as a cat runs down the stairs. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Lead paws,” I mutter to myself and shake my head.
I turn toward the back door and stare out at the back yard. Off in the distance, the police sirens wail, and blue flashing lights race down the street. I’m pretty sure I know where they’re going—and I’m waiting for them.
Suddenly, I’m not alone. Someone grabs my arms from behind. I take a knee to my back and grunt as I’m thrown forward into the kitchen island. I push back against the assailant, the man who killed Maxx, but he’s strong. His hand grips the back of my head and forces my face into the marble countertop.
