But that meant Ethan and Garret knew each other, and after quickly asking my best friend, Amy, to go to prom with him, Ethan then persuaded Garrett to make it a double date, saying he would spring for a limo to drive the four of us to dinner and then to the dance.
Mom and Eli were more than okay with the plan. Ethan and I could look out for each other, and no one would be tempted to drink and drive, or do anything else stupid that kids did on prom night. But I was furious with Ethan. I wanted to be alone with Garrett. This was a big deal for me, the first time in high school that anyone I actually liked had ever asked me out.
I wore a red strapless dress that night. My dark hair was swept to the side with a sparkly clip holding it in place. Mom gave me a simple diamond necklace to wear; my father had given it to her on their first anniversary. Looking back on it now, I was ridiculously made-up that night, but at the time I felt prettier than I’d ever felt in my life.
I heard him gasp behind me. I lifted my head and spotted Ethan in my bedroom mirror. He was standing in the doorway.
“You look beautiful.”
I tensed, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. So I smiled and responded the way a sister should. “You look rather dapper yourself.” He was wearing a traditional black tuxedo with a purple bow tie and matching pocket handkerchief—probably chosen to match Amy’s dress. I approached him. “Here, let me straighten your tie.” He had rented a real bow tie; no clip-on for Ethan. “There.” I patted his chest. “Amy will have the most handsome date at prom.”
He grabbed my hand, prompting me to meet his hard stare. “Be careful tonight,” he said.
I narrowed my gaze. “Of course. But aren’t we still going together?” Why had he gotten so serious?
“Yes, but I can’t possibly be around you the entire night. If Garrett tries anything, I’ll cut off his pitching hand.”
I cocked my head, studying his expression. When he smiled, I relaxed. “Don’t be silly. We’re going to have so much fun.”
He started to say something further, but the doorbell rang.
My eyes widened with excitement. “That should be Garrett.” I grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”
Our prom theme was “A Night at the Oscars.” The gym had been transformed into a beautiful ballroom fit for Hollywood glamour. The entrance even had a long red carpet where a photographer took everyone’s pictures.
Since Ethan, Amy, Garrett, and I arrived together, we got a picture of the four of us, with Ethan and me standing in the middle. As Ethan stood beside me with his arm around Amy, he also slipped an arm around my back, clinching my waist and rubbing his thumb against my ribcage.
As soon as the photographer snapped the picture, Ethan leaned into me and whispered, “Remember what I said,” just before Garrett whisked me off in the direction of some friends.
Garrett and I had fun that night, dancing and hanging out with his friends. And when the night was over, I was sure Garrett would kiss me and ask me out again.
He didn’t.
The limo driver drove Garrett home first, then Amy. Ethan walked Amy to her door, ever the gentleman. He did not kiss her goodnight. Instead they hugged, and Amy waved at me again. They’d never been more than friends.
When Ethan climbed back in the car, he declared, “Well, that was fun. But you know that Garrett isn’t right for you, right?”
I stared at him. “What are you talking about? We were prom dates, not getting engaged to be married.”
“You could have fooled me. And him. You were hanging on him like a girl desperate for a boyfriend.”
“What?” I snapped. “You’re an asshole. And you’ve been drinking.”
“Well, so was Garrett. You know what he was saying about you in the bathroom tonight?”
I shook my head at Ethan in disbelief and turned toward the window.
“He told everyone that he couldn’t believe his luck. That he had planned on having his way with you after prom until your brother ruined his night by tagging along as your chaperone.”
“He did not,” I said. “You’re making that up just to make me not like him.”
“Faith…” Ethan said. He reached across the seat and scooped up my hand. “When are you going to understand? None of the losers at our school is worthy of you.”
I turned to face him. “I just wanted to have some fun, Ethan.”
“Didn’t you? Have fun, that is?”
“Yes, but…” I looked out the window again.
“But what?” He squeezed my hand. “Tell me. You used to tell me everything.”
“I wanted him to kiss me.”
Ethan’s face hardened, but he quickly recovered. “I’m not going to pretend that I’m sorry he didn’t. You deserve better than Garrett Jansen.”
“What’s wrong with Garrett?”
“He’s a typical jock. He’s not nice to girls. Have you ever seen him be friends with the girls he’s dated?”
I thought about it. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“Well, I’ve watched him. The girls he’s ‘dated’ hate him after it’s over. Just ask Martha Halloway. She made out with him two weekends in a row. When she demanded that he take her on a real date, they agreed to go to the movies. He stood her up.”
“Really?”
“Yep, and when she got to school on Monday, he was hanging all over Martha’s best friend. He’d hooked up with her over the weekend.”
“How have I not heard about this?”
“Because you never go to these parties. You’re always studying.”
“That’s not true. You and I hang out plenty.”
“And I will never treat you the way Garrett treats girls.”
“Of course you won’t,” I said. “But you have to treat me well. You’re my brother, which means you have to love me unconditionally.”
When the limo dropped us off at home, it was almost two a.m., and Mom was asleep on the sofa. Ethan put a blanket over her.
“That’s so cute that she tried to wait up for us,” I said.
“You hungry?” he asked me.
“I would love some ice cream.”
“I think I saw Blue Bell Cookie Dough in there earlier.”
“You’re on.”
Ethan and I shared a huge bowl of ice cream while I talked about all the girls’ dresses, and we gossiped about prom couples we were most surprised about.
“Did you see Tabitha?” Ethan asked.
“Yes! I was shocked when Travis walked in with her.”
“Why? She’s always going to parties in Paynes Creek in the summers. She obviously still knows people over here.”
“Yeah, but she transferred to a school in Lexington like three years ago.” I shrugged, then dipped my spoon for another bite of ice cream. “I thought she looked fat.”
He smiled. And then I laughed and nearly snorted ice cream out my nose. Tabitha looked like a supermodel, and everyone at prom noticed.
“You always did hate her.”
“Hate’s a strong word,” I said.
Ethan walked over to the radio Mom kept in the kitchen and turned it to some soft music. “I never got to dance with you tonight.” He held out a hand.
Part of me thought I should refuse, but another part wanted to finish the night with him. So we danced there in the middle of our farmhouse kitchen. Two best friends—siblings—thrown together by marriage.
When the song ended, Ethan touched a finger to my chin and lifted my face so that our eyes could meet. The look in his eye was one I had seen many times. He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips, then hugged me to him.
Seconds later, I heard footsteps behind me, so I backed away from Ethan just as Mom entered the kitchen. “Did you two have fun? I didn’t even hear you come in.”
“We did,” Ethan said, his voice upbeat.
My mind raced as I searched for something to say, but I came up empty.
“And you’re having ice cream without me?” Mom said. “I bet you already talk
ed about everybody’s dresses.”
“Not you, too,” Ethan said with a dramatic roll of the eyes. “Well—Faith was the belle of the ball. Of course.” He winked at me. “And I’m sure she’ll give you the rundown on everyone else.”
“Faith, honey, did you have fun? Was Garrett a gentleman?”
I cleared my throat, barely recovered from the moment Ethan and I had just shared. “Yeah, he was, Mom. We had a great time. But I’m kind of tired. Can I tell you everything tomorrow?”
“Sure, honey.” She tried, and failed, to not look disappointed.
I gave her a hug and, with a quick glance at Ethan, said, “Good night.”
Ethan smiled. “Good night, Faith.”
Ethan didn’t mention the kiss the next day. Just like the kissing on my sixteenth birthday, we kept it private, never talking about it, not even to each other.
And when neither of us ended up going out with our dates again after prom, Mom cut our dates out of the photo we’d had taken that night. She framed the picture of Ethan and me and set it on the living room mantel, where it stayed.
Twenty
Media swarmed the front of the police station the next morning. Despite the overcast weather, I wore oversized sunglasses—my head was about to explode from too much bourbon the night before—but they didn’t prevent Marla from recognizing me as I approached.
She tapped her cameraman’s arm, and he immediately turned his camera on me. Marla took several quick steps in my direction. Not even three-inch heels slowed her down.
“Miss Day,” she said in her news-reporting voice. “Can you tell us why the FBI is looking into the deaths of Eli Gentry and your mother, Scarlett Day? Did you know they were reopening the case?”
I stopped and faced her, irritated at how the motion caused even more pain in the area behind my right eye. “Just in case you are not aware, I don’t work for the FBI. I have no idea whether or not they are looking into that decade-old case, Marla. Move on.”
Other reporters began to show interest and walk toward me.
“Are you aware that the FBI has found a link between the recent arson cases and the fire that killed your mother and stepfather? How have you come to grips with the fact that your brother was wrongly incarcerated after your mother’s death?”
I shoved past Marla and the other reporters firing questions at me, and I didn’t slow until I was through the double doors.
I thought back to the three missed calls from Luke that I’d found on my phone when I awoke. I hadn’t bothered to call him back, but now I wondered if I should have. Had he wanted to warn me about this?
“They’re vultures, aren’t they?” Penelope said. Her hair was curled to perfection, and she was wearing a bright orange and hot pink sweater set and a colorful jeweled necklace.
I lifted my glasses and squinted at her bright, cheery face. “Why do you look like that and I look like this?” I gestured to my gray down jacket, black crew-neck sweater underneath, blue jeans, and black boots. My long, straight hair was pulled into a simple ponytail that hung down my back like the short mane of a thoroughbred racehorse.
“Must be the green smoothie I had this morning. Want me to make you one?”
“No, I don’t.” I turned and looked out the front doors. “Marla was speaking some nonsense about the FBI reopening my mother’s case.”
Penelope didn’t say anything.
I rotated my head slowly in her direction. “Tell me Marla has no idea what she’s talking about.”
Penelope looked down at her shoes—rose-colored suede flats—then back at me. She let out a sigh. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I thought someone would have told you.”
Yelling sounded from the chief’s office. Through the open blinds of the window that separated the chief from his station house, I saw Uncle Henry lean across the chief’s desk, lift a hand, and point it in Chief Reid’s face. “You told me they weren’t digging up old skeletons!”
“Henry, I need you to calm down,” Chief Reid said. He leaned away from Uncle Henry’s wagging finger. He appeared calm but spoke in a loud voice. “I wasn’t given much of a choice. And it didn’t help that Ethan was released.”
A sweat broke out across the back of my neck. Without taking my eyes off of the two men, I asked Penelope, “Where’s Special Agent Justice?”
“I’m told he gathered up several boxes of evidence and relocated.”
I swiveled my head toward Penelope. “Relocated? What does that mean? He left town?” It pissed me off that this stirred up emotions inside me.
She shrugged. “I don’t think so. He’s staying out your way, at Cooper Adams’s place. Coop remodeled the barn, turned it into an apartment. In case you didn’t already know. I think that’s where Luke is living while he’s here.” There was a mischievous look in her eye, but she refrained from voicing the question I knew was on her mind.
Uncle Henry’s raised voice made itself heard once more. “If this turns out badly, Sam, I’m holding you personally responsible!” Then he spun around and jerked open the chief’s office door.
Immediately, he spotted me across the room—and froze. Everyone in the station turned and stared at me, and I was sure they could all feel the tension that hung between Uncle Henry and me.
“Faith,” he said.
As much as I wanted to discuss this latest development with both him and Chief Reid, I wanted to hear Luke’s version even more. So I spun on my heel, opened the doors, and darted right back out into the vultures.
The skies began spitting a mixture of sleet and freezing rain as I drove the country roads toward Cooper’s place. At first I barreled through it, but when my tires slid on a patch of ice—luckily I recovered quickly—I decided to slow way down. A good idea, as the storm only grew in intensity from there.
At Coop’s, I pulled up next to the barn, shrugged into my coat, gloves, and winter toboggan, and stepped out of the car. Pellets of ice smacked against my face.
I knew this area well. For many years, Mr. Kuster hosted Fourth of July parties here, complete with hayrides and bonfires, and winter sleigh-riding parties, which also included bonfires, but with the added warmth of hot chocolate. Mom took Finch and me to those parties when we were young, and later—after Finch was gone—Ethan and I continued the tradition on our own. But now the area looked empty—no cars or trucks, no sign that anyone was here.
I approached the normal-sized door to the right of the large barn doors. I knocked on it and listened.
Nothing.
I knocked again, then yelled out. “Luke! Coop!”
I tried the doorknob; it was unlocked. I shouldn’t just walk in, though. A reasonable person would call Luke on his cell phone, not trespass into his residence. But then again, it was a barn—it didn’t feel like stepping into someone’s house. And technically I was already trespassing, and had been from the minute I drove onto the property.
Inside, I yelled again. “Luke? Coop? Anyone home?”
This part of the barn was still a barn, complete with rafters above, several stalls for horses—though I saw no animals—farm equipment, and the familiar tractor that pulled the trailer during hayrides. But on the opposite side of the barn, new wood had been put up to section off a smaller area. This must be the renovated apartment Penelope had mentioned.
I knocked on the door to the apartment and still got no response. Once again I let myself in.
Coop had done an amazing job. I stepped into a charming, rustic living room decorated with a masculine but comfortable decor in plaids, soft browns, and grays, with occasional splashes of red and black. All the fabrics chosen with the hopes that they would hide dirt, most likely. If I had to guess, Coop had not done all this decorating alone.
To one side was a kitchenette with a microwave and coffee pot, but no oven. Enough for a bachelor to survive on, though not nearly enough to fill up the farm table, which seated six. I touched the coffee pot—still warm.
A spiral staircase led upward. I walked over and
called up the dark wooden stairs. “Luke!”
He clearly wasn’t here, and at this point I was just being nosy. But I’d come this far…
I climbed the stairs to a loft bedroom that housed an unmade king-sized bed, two bedside tables, and a couple of chairs. Black-framed windows stretched along the outside wall, overlooking the woods that separated Coop’s land from mine. On the other side of the room was another distressed farm table, covered in paper and books, clearly being used as a desk. An equally distressed wrought-iron chandelier hung above it, and had been left on. Between the light being left on and the warm coffee pot, I knew Luke hadn’t been gone long, and might return soon. I should go.
I started to head back down the spiral steps, but I couldn’t when I noticed what was hanging on the wall on the other side of the table.
An evidence board.
It hung on the wall behind the table, stretching its length. More than a dozen photos hung in a zigzag pattern. Twine stretched from photos to newspaper articles to Post-It notes. I stepped closer, and my attention was immediately drawn to two photos placed side by side near the top of the board, just to the left of the center.
Both were pictures of me.
One was from when I was seventeen; the other was from just last year, my official identification photo taken when I became an associate of the Paynes Creek PD.
Just to the left of my photos was a mug shot of Ethan taken after his arrest. Twine stretched from our pictures to a newspaper article about Ethan’s trial. The headline read: Stepsister Testifies Against Stepbrother in Paynes Creek Murder Case. An artist’s sketch showed me with one hand on the Bible and the other held in the air, obviously swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
Nearby I spotted photos of Uncle Henry, Aunt Leah, and even Finch.
Why were these photos on Luke’s evidence board? Ethan’s photo… that much I understood. But me? And so recent? What exactly was Luke investigating, anyway?
Twenty-One
Death is in the Details Page 12
