Despite Mr. Van Auken’s confidence, Archer did not appear to be placated. “And where’s the proof?”
“Archer,” Regina said admonishingly. “You shouldn’t—”
“Because,” Mr. Van Auken said. “The evidence against your father was airtight. Fingerprints on the murder weapon. Copy of the house key in his pocket. Bloodstains on his clothing matching Christopher Morales’s. If there was somehow a discrepancy in the case that would cause the courts to grant your father an appeal, he’d have to have an extremely good lawyer on his side. But there’s not. He’s going to be denied.”
He turned to Regina before Archer had the chance to respond and said, “You have my card. You know how to reach me if you have any questions or concerns, al right?”
“Right.” Regina gave a nod, a tight smile. “Thank you, Mr. Van Auken.”
“Call me Rick, please. I’ll keep you updated as much as I can, but I’m confident this will have a positive outcome.”
Mr. Van Auken shook Regina’s hand, gave me another smile and a curt nod in Archer’s direction, and left the coffee shop, out into the still-falling snow.
The three of us looked at each other as the door swung shut.
“So, um . . .” Regina took a deep breath, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She was pale and her face had this pinched look, but she seemed . . . okay. Okay was the best word I could come up with. “Well, that wasn’t too pleasant of a conversation, but it wasn’t awful. Things might be fine.”
“Well, that’s just fantastic,” Archer said sarcastically. “But, hey, did you know that Van Auken is Hadley’s father’s firm partner?”
“What?” Regina looked at me in shock. “Really?”
I couldn’t keep back an aggravated sigh, shooting an annoyed look at Archer. “Yes, but they made partner years after St. Pierre’s trial.”
“That’s . . . quite unusual,” Regina said, frowning. “But rather convenient, I suppose.”
“Exactly,” I said, giving Archer a pointed look. “I could help, if you needed me. Find out more about what’s going on, maybe.”
“He’s not taking this very well, is he?” I said, looking over to Regina as Archer walked back into the kitchen. I heard dishes being dumped into the sink louder than necessary.
She shook her head, taking a sip of her tea. “No. Anything to do with his biological father sends him over the edge. It makes him . . . very angry.”
That much was obvious. But I could hardly blame him for that. He had every right in the world to be angry at St. Pierre.
“And as much as I despise even thinking about my ex,” Regina began with a sigh, “Mr. Van Auken brought up valid points. It’s going to be hard to convince myself of it, believe me, but . . . I think the chances of him getting out really are slim to none.”
“Good,” I said, forcing myself to smile. “I’m glad.”
Regina’s face took on a wary expression as she set her mug of tea on the counter, turning to the cash register. “Well. We should probably get to closing, then.”
It was clear Regina had no desire to continue the conversation, so we got down to closing, working in silence.
This time I didn’t feel the need to break the silence with a never-ending flow of questions. I could only hope that tomorrow would be a better day and everything having to do with St. Pierre’s trial would be all but forgotten. Mr. Van Auken was one of the city’s most prestigious lawyers. He knew his stuff. He wouldn’t have come all this way just to dash Regina’s hopes. The evidence was all stacked against St. Pierre. Even Havoc couldn’t mess with something as firm and unshakeable as the truth.
CHAPTER 25
A Sudden Test—5 Days Until
Archer was quiet most of the next day. He barely talked at lunch, keeping his head buried in a book. He didn’t even eat any of my fries. I couldn’t blame him for being so distant. I suspected his thoughts still remained with his family and the fact that his father was trying to get out of prison.
I was actually looking forward to discussing The Great Gatsby—which I still hadn’t finished—in sixth-period English, if only to get my mind off everything else. But when I got to class, the room surprisingly was empty. I checked the time on the clock above the door and saw that there were still five minutes to go before class started. But shouldn’t at least one person be here by now? Like perhaps my teacher, Miss Graham?
I pulled my copy of The Great Gatsby and my notebook out of my bag, wondering why I was the first one here. That never happened. Usually I beat the tardy bell by seconds. I flipped to a clean page in my notebook and started doodling with my favorite purple pen.
Surely only a minute or two had passed, but I found myself growing tired, like I was being dragged beneath the surface of some thick blanket of fog the more I covered the page in doodles. The nights I spent tossing and turning were finally catching up to me. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and rest my head on my desk and sleep for a very long time. I felt my head begin to droop, my eyes were sliding shut, and then I was abruptly yanked back to the present when a hand descended on my shoulder, a quiet, silken voice murmuring, “Well, hello, my dear Hadley.”
I let out a yelp at Havoc’s proximity, and I tried to scramble up out of my seat to get away from him, but his grip on my shoulder was impossibly tight. I looked around, wondering why no one seemed to notice Havoc hovering over me, but the desks were still empty, as if my classmates had never showed up. Nobody else was in the room but the two of us.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped, my voice trembling despite how hard I was trying to appear calm. “Let me go!”
Havoc ignored me, making his way around to lean across the desk, still tightly gripping my shoulder. “I came to offer you a chance to reconsider your deal with Death,” he said in polite tones. “Because you’ve had an eventful week, haven’t you?”
That was an understatement. This had been the most confusing, frightening week of my life.
“It’s been . . . okay,” I said.
“Okay? That’s not the word I would use. You know what my favorite part was?” Havoc said, his lips pulling up into an eerie smile. “Watching you trip and hit that pretty little head of yours when you fell down those stairs. Seeing the look on Archer’s face when he thought you were seriously injured. Did you like my little note I left for you?”
“Loved it,” I said, forcing myself to be calm.
“What’s it going to take to change your mind, hmm? Perhaps a little mishap the next time Victoria takes the train? Maybe a gentleman who just can’t help but think Regina is so pretty? Oh, and Rosie is such a sweet little girl, isn’t she? How well do you think Archer would take it if something happened to his sister?” He leaned even closer. “Because someone is going to die, Hadley. You can let that someone be Archer, or I can make it be someone else. Really, it makes no difference to me.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop to consider the consequences of what I was saying. “If you’re going to talk like that, I should be the one you’re coming after. Not Victoria. Not Regina. Definitely not Rosie.”
Havoc raised an eyebrow, looking pleasantly surprised at this. “Is that so?”
Since I’d already said it, and I couldn’t take the words back—I didn’t even want to. I nodded, gritting my teeth.
“Well, I do believe you’ve just given me permission to raise the stakes,” Havoc said pleasantly. “At first I didn’t understand why Death would offer a little girl like you a contract, but I’m beginning to see it now. You do put up a fight, don’t you?”
I tasted blood in my mouth, and I realized I’d been biting my lip. “I’ll never stop putting up a fight, either,” I said when I finally found my voice.
“Oh, I’m counting on that,” Havoc said, and there was a disturbing glint in his eyes. “That’s what’s going to make this so much fun.”
I didn’t get the chance to respond.
I blinked, and the next second I was watching Miss Graha
m scribbling out a plot diagram on the board, chattering away about the complex relationship between Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan. My classmates were seated around me, only one-third of them paying attention. It was just like any other class on any other day.
“Um. Miss Graham?” I tried raising my hand, but my arm felt too heavy to move.
Miss Graham stopped in the middle of her sentence, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Yes? Hadley?”
“Can I, ah, be excused please? I don’t feel very well.”
There must have been something in my face that showed I was about to puke, because Miss Graham immediately nodded, waving her book at the door. “Go ahead.”
I shoved my things into my bag and bolted for the door. There were a few girls hanging out in the girls’ bathroom down the hall, but I paid them no mind and raced for the nearest stall.
I didn’t throw up like I thought I would, and instead slipped to the floor when my legs gave out. I stuck my head between my knees, sucking in air, wishing my stomach would stop rolling.
“Hey, are you all right?” I heard knocking on the stall door I was still leaning up against. “You’ve, um, been in there awhile. We heard groaning.”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I called out weakly. “Just a little sick to my stomach.”
The stranger said a few words wishing me well, and then I heard the sound of footsteps and the bathroom door swinging shut.
My head spun as I pulled myself up to my knees, grabbing at the toilet paper dispenser for support. I gave myself a few moments to get my breathing steady again before grabbing my bag and leaving the stall.
I had no desire to return to Miss Graham’s class. I didn’t want to ever step foot in that room again. So I wandered down the empty hallway, thankful the period hadn’t let out yet. When I reached my locker, I wished I actually had decided to go back to class. I read the four lines written in black Sharpie on my locker door, my pulse racing.
Since you liked the first note so much,
I thought a second one would be just the touch.
Accidents often happen in a city like this,
And we both know there are people you’re going to miss.
Archer was snapping his fingers in front of my face, and I realized he’d been saying my name over and over for a good minute now. “Hadley, are you even listening to me?”
“What? Oh. Sorry.”
My voice sounded faraway, exactly where my thoughts were. I’d taken a short shift at Mama Rosa’s tonight, just about three hours, and it was turning out to be my worst one yet. I’d been unable to concentrate at all, still reliving my confrontation with Havoc at school. I even went as far as to go snooping around the coffeehouse just to make sure he wasn’t here.
I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from Archer. I watched his every move as he worked, repeatedly telling myself that he was alive, perfectly fine, going about his evening just like everybody else, and that it was going to stay that way.
When Victoria had shown up a while ago, I’d given Rosie a big hug and had been afraid to let her go for several moments. It’d been hard not to throw my arms around Regina when I first saw her too. Havoc’s warnings had burned themselves into my mind, impossible to remove. I couldn’t stand the thought of being the cause if something were to happen to a little girl as sweet as Rosie—and the same went for the rest of Archer’s family.
“I told you to take these muffins out of the oven ten minutes ago,” Archer was saying, wrenching open the oven door, using an oven mitt to pull out a tray of obviously ruined blueberry muffins. “What is with you tonight? I swear, you’re even worse than usual. And would you quit tugging at those things!”
He dropped the tray of muffins on the counter and snatched at my wrist. Before I could even protest, he was unraveling the ghost beads, revealing the twisted little number 5 on my wrist. There were electric little pinpricks dancing across my skin at his touch, making me squirm. Whatever he’d been about to say died in his throat as he looked at me in confusion.
“What’s so important about the number five?” Archer asked quietly.
Five days to make sure you don’t kill yourself come next Tuesday, I nearly said.
That’s all I had left. Five days to make sure Archer was still with me when my contract was up. And now with Havoc in the picture, I couldn’t bring myself to think of the future without wanting to burst into tears. But I also couldn’t see myself abandoning this now. It was impossible, not even an option. Come hell or high water, I was going to see this through. I had to.
“That’s how long I need to study each day for finals,” I blurted, snatching my arm back, quickly slipping the ghost beads back around my wrist so the number 5 was hidden.
“Oh, come on.” Archer snorted. “You really expect me to buy that? What is it really for?”
“Kids, up front!” Regina’s voice carried into the kitchen. “We have customers!”
“Try not to burn the place to the ground,” Archer threw out as he moved past me out of the kitchen.
“Let’s hope not,” I muttered.
CHAPTER 26
Potluck Smarts—4 Days Until
Archer was reading a dog-eared copy of Hamlet at lunch the next day and didn’t look up until I slapped my geometry test down on the table in front of him.
“Behold,” I said. “Observe my brilliance.”
Archer glanced away from Hamlet long enough to give my geometry test a cursory glance, and then did a double take. “You got an A?”
“Told you I could do it!” I exclaimed, feeling a little offended at the disbelieving look on his face.
A slow smile started to work its way over his face as he flipped through my test, checking over my answers. “And you even used the right formulas too. That’s my girl.”
I immediately felt my cheeks flood with heat as I sat down, unwrapping my roast beef sandwich. It took Archer only a second to figure out why my face was now the color of a brick, and he quickly tossed aside my test and pulled my tray of fries toward him. I was pretty sure Archer was incapable of blushing, but he did look slightly embarrassed.
He’d just called me his girl. I had the sudden, uncontrollable urge to start giggling.
“Think you could wait until I actually sit down next time before you steal my food?” I said, eager to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“Yeah, yeah,” Archer said distractedly as he picked up Hamlet again. “You never finish your fries anyway.”
“Because I leave them for you, you dope.”
He looked up from his book, a startled expression on his face. “What?” The way he seemed so surprised by this was odd.
“What do you mean, what?” I said, frowning. “Did you not forget that I pay you in fries in exchange for geometry tutoring? And, anyway, I’m trying to expand your diet. Gotta give the lunch meat and cherry Danishes a break, right?”
Archer kept silent as he ate a few more fries, his shocked look turning into an amused one. “Fries are bad for you.”
“Yeah, like cherry Danishes are so much better,” I said, taking a sip of my water.
“Obviously cherry Danishes are better.” Archer set aside Hamlet, snatching another bunch of fries. He chewed for a long moment before he spoke. “Hey. What are you doing tonight?”
“Nothing,” I answered slowly. “Why?”
“My family is apparently just dying to see you again,” Archer said, “so I was told to tell you that you should come to a potluck dinner at our parish tonight.”
He spoke in a rush, trying to get it over with as soon as possible, and it took me a moment to process what he said.
“You were told . . . Wait, what?” I pushed my sandwich to the side, my attention focused solely on Archer now. “You want me to come to a church dinner tonight?”
“You have no idea the impression you made on my relatives.”
What a golden opportunity. I hadn’t been scheduled to work tonight, so now I didn’t even have to coerce Archer i
nto hanging out after school.
“Archer, I would love to come to a church dinner with you,” I said, trying and failing to keep the grin off my face.
“Okay, yeah, you don’t need to look so smug about it,” Archer said, looking skeptical.
“What? I don’t look smug,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “I love church and I love dinner. And I’m just happy to see all of your cousins again, and I—”
“You somehow managed to squeeze a job out of my mom, and now you’re finally going to steal my family away from me, is that it? Was that your plan all along?”
“Hey! Sharing is caring!”
He took a handful of fries and grinned. “If you say so.”
I was excited to go to the potluck at Archer’s church. I really did want to spend more time with the Incitti family, and it sounded like fun. When I pestered Archer for more details, he told me the parish had this annual potluck in December to raise money for local charities during the Christmas season. Apparently, it was quite the event—Mama Rosa’s was closing early for the day, and there would even be a live band there.
Not wanting to look frumpy, I pulled on a simple red dress with black leggings and ballet flats, followed by my jacket. I appraised my reflection in the mirror for a few moments before I decided I looked okay enough, then snatched my bag off the desk and left.
“Having a night out on the town?” Hanson asked as I walked out of the apartment building.
“Potluck dinner with a friend,” I said.
“Is this the same friend you’ve been spending all your free time with?” he said with a wink.
“Yeah,” I said, grinning. “Turns out we have a lot in common.”
Maybe Archer and I didn’t have the same interests—I would never do math for fun—but there was one major thing we both shared: we were both willing to do anything for the ones we loved. It hadn’t taken me too long to figure that out.
Hanson flagged down a cab, and I quickly buckled myself in, giving the driver the church’s address. I was meeting Archer and his family there, in the church gym. The event wasn’t officially set to start until six, but with the way traffic was tonight, I doubted I would arrive on time.
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