The Amateurs

by Sara Shepard

  Loren made a clucking sound with his tongue as he studied it. ‘Okay, yeah. She was a client. I delivered to her twice a week.’

  ‘Delivered what?’ Aerin asked, then held up a hand. ‘Actually, don’t answer. I don’t want to know.’

  Madison rubbed her jaw. ‘If you delivered to her twice a week, that would mean she’d have to have an address in the city, right?’

  Loren tossed his cigarette into the gutter. ‘I don’t deliver to street corners.’

  Seneca looked excited. ‘Do you remember Helena’s address?’

  Loren chuckled. The chuckle quickly turned into a hacking cough, which lasted several seconds. He wiped his eyes. ‘This may come as a surprise, but sometimes I sample my product. My memory’s for shit – I can’t remember last week.’

  ‘Well, do you keep a client list?’ Seneca asked.

  Loren started coughing again. ‘I’m not a doctor’s office, honey.’

  ‘You know, I’m not buying this,’ Brett muttered. ‘Can’t remember an address, no client records, and yet here’s a very personal phone call.’

  ‘She probably owed me money. That’s the only time I call clients, when they dodge their bills.’

  Maddox sidled closer to Loren. ‘Know what I think? You went to wherever Helena was staying and tried to shake her down. But maybe she didn’t have the cash. Maybe that made you even angrier. Maybe things got out of hand …’

  Loren puffed up his chest. ‘I could call the cops right now. This is private property.’

  ‘But you won’t.’ Brett smiled triumphantly. ‘Because then they’ll find out about you. And you wouldn’t like that.’

  There was a brief stare-off. Loren flicked ash. ‘Are you seriously trying to say I did something to this girl?’ He started to laugh. ‘Think about what you just said. Helene, Helena – whatever her name is – she disappeared in December five years ago, right? And we’re assuming she was killed around then, too? If you kids had done your research, you’d know I broken both my legs, one of them in four different places, that December – I was doing this awesome stunt that kinda went wrong at the end.’

  He pulled an iPhone out of his pocket, pressed the screen a few times, and showed the group a video. It was dated December 16, five years before. A tubby guy that looked just like Loren did a backflip off a soccer goal. He landed squarely in a large blue vat filled with Gatorade, and then the thing tipped over and rolled down an enormous hill straight to where a high-school marching band was practicing in a field. Loren and the barrel knocked over several trumpet players as easy as bowling pins. The cameraman cheered in the background. Loren crawled out of the barrel, screaming in agony.

  Madison gawked at him. ‘Were you on drugs?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Loren chuckled. ‘The post went viral. It was all over Facebook – even made the Today show! So I ask you, can a dude with a big freaking cast on both of his legs kill a fly – much less a girl?’ Then something else seemed to occur to him. ‘Also, if you think she was killed in December, why would I have called her in January?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘You people are total amateurs.’

  The wind howled in Aerin’s ears. Somewhere in the distance, a chorus of horns blew. Loren spun around and opened the gallery door. He walked through it, locked it, and gave them a lingering wave from behind the glass, his eyes mocking.

  Brett rushed to the door and knocked with a flat palm. ‘Wait! Do you know if she had a boyfriend, then? Who was she staying with in New York?’ Loren walked to the back of the gallery without answering.

  Brett spun back around and faced the group. ‘Damn. How’d we miss that? He said it was all over Facebook!’

  Seneca had her hands over her eyes. ‘Facebook.’

  ‘Why didn’t anyone look to see if he had a page?’ Aerin cried.

  Maddox pointed at Seneca. ‘Didn’t you find it last night? I thought you were checking it.’

  Seneca glared at him. ‘I was going to, but then you were all like, You don’t have to work all the time! Have a drink!’ She used a dopey, mocking voice, and her eyes bugged wide.

  Maddox pressed his hand to his chest. ‘So now it’s my fault?’

  ‘Okay, okay, let’s calm down.’ Brett started pacing. ‘So Loren isn’t our guy. But we did get something out of him. Helena had an address here. That’s huge!’

  ‘Or else she was just coming to New York City regularly because she couldn’t get drugs in Dexby,’ Maddox said.

  ‘You can get drugs in Dexby, easy,’ Madison pointed out. ‘I mean, unless she was on some really crazy shit …’

  ‘She wasn’t coming into the city from Dexby.’ Aerin hated even saying it. ‘Even if she got pot from him, Loren said he delivered to her twice a week. Meaning she would’ve been in New York twice a week. I saw her every day that year, except when she did that summer program here. She couldn’t have cut school, either – her attendance record was perfect. I know because the freaking office sent her a posthumous award. It’s still on her bulletin board with all the rest of her crap because my mom is too sad to take any of it down.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Loren must have been thinking of someone else.’

  ‘Or …’ Seneca cleared her throat. ‘Maybe Loren’s on to something. Maybe Helena didn’t die the last day you saw her, in December. Maybe she came here, lived in the city for a while—into January. That’s when Loren delivered to her. I mean, maybe he delivered a few times before that December day, too, like when she was at the summer program – otherwise he wouldn’t have had her phone number. But the bulk of his deliveries, the two times a week, maybe they were in late December, early January.’

  The wind shifted, and the city smelled sharply of garbage. Aerin glared at Seneca. ‘What are you talking about? One minute, Helena was in the yard with me. The next minute, she was gone. Someone took her, murdered her.’ She blinked. ‘She didn’t run away.’

  Seneca didn’t look so sure. ‘That last day you saw her, she sent you back inside to get a purse. Why didn’t she go in herself?’

  Aerin blinked, confused by the question. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘She could have sent you inside because it gave her time to get away.’

  Aerin’s jaw dropped. ‘But she didn’t take her phone with her. Or any clothes.’

  ‘Maybe this New York guy had a stash for her.’

  There was a rushing sound in Aerin’s ears. ‘Okay, even if it is true, why did Helena want to go through the whole charade of building a snowman? Why didn’t she just find some other time when none of us were home and go then?’

  ‘Maybe they’d set a time beforehand. Maybe she didn’t anticipate you being around.’

  ‘Oh, so I was just an annoyance to do away with?’

  Seneca pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘I don’t know, Aerin. I didn’t know her. Maybe you didn’t, either.’

  Aerin gasped. It felt like Seneca had punched her. She looked at the others. ‘You guys think she’s wrong, right?’

  Madison shuffled her feet. Brett shoved his hands in his pockets.

  ‘Right? ’ Aerin screeched, her throat feeling tight.

  ‘She’s not necessarily wrong, but she shouldn’t have broken it to you like that,’ Maddox said.

  Seneca turned to him, eyebrows knitted. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘C’mon, Seneca,’ Maddox said gently. ‘Have some compassion.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Brett piped up.

  Seneca groaned. ‘Maybe Princess Aerin should just be a little less sensitive. I mean, we’re investigating a murder case. Did she expect it to be all puppies and rainbows?’ Aerin glared at her, opening her mouth for an angry reply.

  Maddox cut in. ‘Hey. Just because you’re angry that you spaced out about looking up Loren on Facebook doesn’t mean you need to take it out on Aerin.’

  Seneca looked like she was going to explode. ‘Why didn’t you look up his page, Maddox? Why does it always have to be me figuring shit out? Why am I the only one actually working here?’

  ‘Hey
.’ Brett’s voice cracked. ‘We’re all working.’

  ‘Yeah, Seneca,’ Madison cried.

  Seneca pointed at Brett. ‘Actually, you seem more interested in flirting with Aerin. And Madison? You’re cool – I don’t know why you’re here at all. To get closer to your brother? You shouldn’t waste your time.’

  ‘Seneca,’ Aerin said wearily. All the anger suddenly drained from her body, until all she could feel was exhaustion. ‘Be nice.’

  Seneca turned to her. ‘Why are you defending Maddox? He thinks you’re a bitch.’ Aerin blinked and, shocked at herself, felt tears coming on. She gulped rapidly.

  Maddox looked mortified. ‘No I don’t!’

  ‘Oh please,’ Seneca snapped. ‘You’ve said it several times.’

  Brett crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Let’s take a breath, people. Everyone calm down.’

  ‘Shut up, Brett!’ Seneca yelled.

  Brett’s brow furrowed. ‘Seneca.’ There was warning in his voice. ‘I mean it. Calm down.’

  ‘What, are you going to make me?’ Seneca sneered, placing her hands on her hips.

  ‘You need to chill, Seneca,’ Maddox ordered. ‘Take a break.’

  She whipped around and glared at him. ‘I’ll take a break, all right. Why not? I’m getting nowhere with you. You’re all nothing but a distraction for me. I’m better off alone.’

  She wheeled around and started walking toward the river. Madison started to go after her, but Maddox caught her arm and shook his head. ‘She won’t listen to you right now,’ he said, sadness in his voice. ‘Just let her go.’

  They were silent for a beat. Maddox looked at Aerin. ‘I really don’t think you’re a bitch,’ he blurted out.

  Aerin breathed deeply, still fighting back tears. The stress of the weird fight hit her all wrong, filling her with unexpected self-consciousness. It wasn’t that she really cared if Maddy Wright thought she was a bitch – or maybe she did. It wasn’t that she cared that Seneca had said that thing about her sister or had freaked out on all of them – or maybe she did. All she knew was that she felt even more lost than ever before. ‘Maybe Seneca’s onto something,’ she said quietly. ‘Maybe we should be done.’

  ‘What?’ Brett shot at her. ‘Aerin, no! We’re so close!’

  ‘No, we’re not.’ Aerin’s voice cracked. ‘We haven’t gotten anywhere. We know nothing.’

  Like Seneca, she started walking, though she chose the opposite direction, toward the middle of the city. Thankfully, none of the dwindling group chased after her. She hated how much they knew about her, how her family’s dirty laundry and insecurities and imperfections were front and center. She despised the idea of finding out even more awful stuff about her sister.

  Seneca’s revelation rushed back. Aerin hated to think it, but … could Seneca be right? Could Helena have lived … and been fine … for what, weeks? Months? She was here in New York City in late December. Here for Christmas, New Year’s. Did she ever think about their parents, about Aerin? Did she watch her search party on the nightly news? Laugh at their parents’ frantic pleas for whoever kidnapped her to return her safely? Like it was a joke?

  It was too hideous to consider.

  She marched across the street, passing right by a car with tinted windows. As she peered through the windshield, a blurred face stared back at her, stopping her short. It seemed like the person had been watching her.

  Aerin glanced over her shoulder. There wasn’t a soul on this block. Wind gusted around the corner. Metal grates over closed shops rattled. Empty candy wrappers blew into the gutter.

  A shadow moved inside the car to open the driver’s door. Aerin’s heart lurched and she stepped away from the curb and started to run, but her stride was halting and inefficient in her high wedges. She heard footsteps behind her and let out a helpless cry. Her ankle turned, and she stumbled, almost careening to the sidewalk. Scrambling for balance, she hurried around the corner to a busier avenue. People bustled to and fro. A shopkeeper hanging purses on an outside rack gave her a strange look.

  You’re being ridiculous, she told herself, breathing in and out. No one is after you. No one cares.

  And sure enough, when she peeked around the corner, the suspicious car had vanished from the parking spot. Maybe it had never been there at all.

  CHAPTER 23

  Back on the Metro-North, Seneca sat by herself, her feet on the back of the seat in front of her. Though she’d shown up at the train station separately from the others, they’d somehow all managed to board not only the same train but the same freaking car – well, all except for Aerin, but Seneca was pretty sure she’d gotten a taxi home. Typical. Maddox was two rows ahead, and Brett across the aisle from him by the window. Madison was at the back near the bathroom, headphones over her ears. It was like they were strangers. Maybe they were, again.

  She stared out of the window at the dinky houses whipping past, feeling cranky. It sucked that she was going back to Dexby. When she’d gotten to the ticket desk at Grand Central, she’d considered buying a ticket to Annapolis and just leaving her bags behind – but the stupid station only had trains going north. Well, whatever. She’d grab her stuff from Maddox’s and leave. She couldn’t imagine staying with him anymore.

  She had no reason to be in Dexby anymore, either: at the train station, Brett had mumbled to her that Aerin had called off the investigation. Seneca couldn’t believe it. The thing they’d figured out about Helena living past that day in December cracked the case wide open. They had a whole new timeline now: Helena could have been killed between the time she went missing and Loren’s phone call in late January, explaining why she hadn’t paid up for her weed or drugs or whatever. Or, she might have lived past that phone call and skipped town again, leaving her debts behind, pulling the same disappearing act twice. The alibis for the weekend she disappeared no longer applied; anyone could be a suspect again. Kevin. Greg Fine. Okay, maybe not Loren with his broken legs, but definitely the mystery boyfriend who lived somewhere in the city.

  So why would Aerin want to stop now? Wasn’t she dying to know the truth? If this was Seneca’s mom’s case and they’d made a breakthrough this big, Seneca would be going full steam ahead, no matter what.

  An older woman wobbled past, holding a cup of coffee. She shot Seneca a small, gentle smile, but Seneca couldn’t smile back. She was far too upset. Not just about looking like a fool in front of Loren and the group. Not just about being totally off her game and forgetting about Loren’s Facebook. About last night, too.

  The worst part was that Maddox hadn’t even tried to apologize. Last night, she’d waited up for him, but almost an hour had passed, and he was still missing from the party. Her fury had just burned hotter and hotter as time went on. Way to avoid the situation, idiot. And who was his complication? It probably was Tara. They probably hooked up all the time. Why wouldn’t he want to hook up with her? And Tara probably thought he was a boyfriend, but Maddox just saw her as a booty call. That’s why he wanted to avoid her at the fair, not because he didn’t like her. And like an idiot, she’d helped him!

  And okay, okay, then he’d shown up with the police and said he’d been mugged – which was scary. But somehow her rational brain couldn’t conquer her rage. Besides, if he’d been a grown-up about this, if he’d tried to smooth things over with Seneca, he wouldn’t have needed to take that walk, and his wallet wouldn’t be gone now.

  Of course, she never should have kissed him, either. It wasn’t like she’d planned it. It had sort of just … happened. She’d felt close to him after telling that dark secret about her mom. Kissing him had felt so right … until it had felt so tragically wrong.

  The conductor screeched that they were pulling into Dexby, and Seneca looked up. The other members of the group stood in the aisles, preparing to exit. She felt a pang as she stared at Brett’s squared shoulders and Madison’s perky ponytail, even the half-disintegrated Calvin tattoo on Maddox’s bicep. She took a deep breath. She should apologize
, even to him. She’d been angry at her stupid choices and for making herself so vulnerable. She was pissed that she’d spaced out on looking up Loren’s history; altogether, it felt like she was slipping in a major way. She so wouldn’t have done this if she was on her own. She would have stayed sober, not let her past cloud her thoughts, and definitely not let a guy come between her and finding out the truth. But because she couldn’t actually say all that, she’d lashed out at the group to hide her insecurities. Maybe if she apologized, if she begged Aerin to reconsider, they could start over again. Right?

  Everyone disembarked from the train and started into the parking lot. Seneca drifted behind the group, composing her apology in her head. As she passed the first line of vehicles, a voice called out, ‘Seneca!’

  She wheeled around and saw a figure, but it was someone so incongruous to Dexby that she did a double take. She took in the white Ford Explorer behind him with its familiar dent on the back fender and Maryland license plate, then peeked again. A sour taste welled in her mouth.

  ‘D-Dad,’ Seneca said in a wobbly voice. ‘Hi.’

  Mr. Frazier eyed Seneca coldly over his glasses. His mouth was drawn. His shoulders were tensed. Seneca felt huge in the middle of the parking lot. She wished she could melt into a puddle and drip down a manhole.

  ‘How did you find me?’ she finally asked, when her dad hadn’t spoken.

  Mr. Frazier let out a caustic laugh. ‘It’s a funny story.’ The words came out like little fireballs. Seneca wasn’t sure she’d seen him this angry. ‘You see, it all started this morning, when I got a charge from the U of M library saying you had some fines. I paid them – you’re welcome – but then I logged on to your credit-card account to make sure you were paying your other bills.’

  Seneca blinked. ‘You have access to my card?’

  ‘I co-signed for you, Seneca. Of course I have access. I find a charge at an ATM at the Restful Inn in Dexby, Connecticut. And I think, Uh-oh, Seneca’s card has been stolen. I’d better call her. So I do, several times, but you don’t answer.’