“I didn’t know what else to do!” my mom cried.
A tense moment of silence echoed through the house as my father took in a sharp breath. He was trying to calm himself down, realizing that yelling wasn’t going to do much good. The affair happened years ago, Sophie was born, and then she came back to us to hide it. She was ashamed of it, and felt sorry, but she couldn’t change the past, so what was the point in making her feel worse? What good would that do?
My dad shook his head as if he were talking to himself, because my mother had started crying again. She could barely manage to say a word, let alone a complete sentence without her voice giving out. I was the same way when I cried. It was hard to speak, because my breathing was erratic from crying, and I wasn’t able to form a complete sentence that the other person could understand. Honestly, I was a hot mess when I cried.
After a long silence, he said, “You could have told me the truth, Andrea. You shouldn’t have hid it from me.” My father ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He paced momentarily, trying to think of something else to say, but he couldn’t. Every time he looked at my mother I saw disappointment, anger, and betrayal flash across his features. He was hurting, and so was she.
She had held the secret in for so long, and she had tried to move past it. I was the one who forced her to bring it back up because Mason found the birth certificate. While I wouldn’t change knowing Sophie was my half-sister, I hadn’t meant for this to happen. I didn’t want a family feud to break out, but it was clear from the moment Mom explained that she had never told my father that this wouldn’t pass over quietly. He should have known a long time ago, then maybe she wouldn’t be experiencing the heartbreak of losing a daughter, and the possibility of losing a husband.
“I’m not staying, Andrea,” my dad said as he grabbed his coat off the armchair. He must have just come home from work when Mom said she needed to talk because his briefcase was next to the chair as well. By tomorrow everyone would know he had spent the night somewhere else.
Not wanting to get caught spying, I hid in the darkness of the bathroom as he left. The door slammed shut, only causing my mother to let out a loud cry, unaware that I was even here. Guilt washed over me. I had pushed her to ruin the marriage she had tried so desperately to keep alive. I believed my father had a right to know, but it should have come before now, before Sophie was old enough to enter high school. My mom still didn’t deserve to suffer alone.
Stepping out of the darkness, I approached my mother and took a seat next to her. She didn’t even look up as the couch sunk down a little under my weight. Instead she continued to bawl, holding her head in her hands, her body trembling from the violent sobs.
I placed a hand on her shoulder and she shrugged away from it. I tried not to feel hurt by her reaction, but I was. I wanted to comfort her, but I realized that maybe she thought this was my fault. After all, I had been the one who forced her to finally come clean. She never would have considered telling my father, she would have kept Mason and me in the dark, and I never would have gotten to know Sophie as Mason remembered her. I knew it wasn’t my fault that she had to tell my father the truth, it was hers for cheating. I tried to remember that as I said, “Mom?”
She raised her head up and fixed her red-rimmed, blue eyes on me. She didn’t speak though, just stared at me with tears glistening and spilling down over her cheeks. My heart ached as I looked at her pain-stricken face, I wished it could be different, but she did the right thing.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, meeting her gaze. I was sorry that Dad had taken it so roughly, and screamed at her as he did, but what did she expect? She would act the same way if she was in his place. She wouldn’t like knowing her husband had an affair when she had stayed loyal, but it was hard to think like that when everything she worked hard to preserve was crashing down around her.
Mom wiped the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand, despite a new stream of tears that raced down her face. She stared me in the eye for a few more minutes before she patted my thigh gently with her hand then stood up slowly. She looked like she had aged ten years. Mom left the living room, and moments later I heard her going up the staircase, then the sound of her bedroom door closing loudly met my ears and the house was enveloped by an eerie silence.
The guilt hit me full force, and it was so quiet that all of my thoughts were swirling around in my head. Thoughts about what I had done, and if Mom and Dad were going to be able to pull themselves out of this one and salvage their relationship. I hoped they would be able to, but I kind of doubted it. Mom had hidden such a monstrous secret for such a long time, and the reason that it had finally come out was because the secret herself had been murdered. If Sophie was still alive, then Mom would have never told Dad. It would have probably been a secret she would have taken to her grave.
The sound of the stairs creaking brought me out of my thoughts. I looked to the entrance of the living room, expecting to see Mom coming back, but it wasn’t her. Instead, John entered the room with his blond hair sticking up in all directions, and an expression of pure worry on his face. His tall figure was hunched over as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but as he glanced back up the stairs toward the bedrooms I knew he was just worried about Mom.
When he entered I was kind of surprised that he was home. He would normally be out with friends. He hardly ever got in before I did at night, and when he did it was because he valued sleep more than an all-nighter with friends. “How bad was it?” I asked, looking him directly in the eye as he came over and took a seat in the spot Mom had just vacated. From the look on his face I could tell that he’d heard everything.
John nodded his head. “Really bad,” he answered. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and messing it up even more than it already was. “I don’t even know what happened. Dad got home, and he and Mom were talking for a few minutes before Mom started to cry and Dad sounded as if he was in shock. I came down to see what was going on when I heard Dad start yelling.”
I looked down at my feet. “Poor Dad,” I said, then added, “poor Mom.”
John nodded his head. “Poor Dad,” he repeated. “I heard everything Mom said, and I still can’t believe it. I mean, how could she do something like that to him? To us?” He looked betrayed, then he looked up at me with realization dawning on his face. “You won’t even believe what she told him.” He didn’t know that I already knew. I guess Mom had left out that little detail, thankfully. I didn’t want Dad to be mad at me as well.
I bit my lip for a second, hesitating to tell him that I knew and hadn’t told him. “I knew,” I finally said. John looked dumbfounded.
“How?”
“Mason, Sophie’s brother from her dad,” I clarified, “found her birth certificate and a letter from Mom. She was listed as Sophie’s birth mother.”
John shook his head slowly, as if he didn’t believe it. Then he furrowed his eyebrows and frowned at me. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know, considering it involves me too?”
I shrugged. It hadn’t really occurred to me to tell him. I was so busy worrying about how I was never going to know Sophie, when John had probably never even had a chance to speak to her. It was selfish not to tell him. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he responded, looking down. “It’s just weird that I had a sister I didn’t even know existed, and now that I know about her she’s gone.”
“I know how you feel,” I said as he leaned down to hug me. For the first time I felt a little love between us, normally we just fought and ignored each other. It was a nice change of pace, but he quickly pulled away and stalked off to his room to be alone again.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he could end up with two sisters dead if Mason and I weren’t careful.
Chapter 24
Straight Arrow
The sound of my shoes clicking on the floor echoed through the empty halls. I was making my way toward Mr. Miller’s classroom to get inform
ation for the investigation. I had decided that the best plan of action was to first set up a meeting with Mr. Miller to get some extra help in math, and then wait for him to leave the room to go through his desk in search of the picture of his wife. I was convinced that the tattooed arrow on her arm was identical to the one that had been sliced into Sophie’s skin, but I needed to be a hundred percent sure before I pointed the finger at him.
It wasn’t going to be hard to wait for Mr. Miller to leave the room. He was one of those teachers who trusted his students, and would periodically leave to print papers, scan answer sheets, buy sodas from the teacher’s lounge vending machine, and more. The only hang up that I had about this plan was that I was going to actually do some math to make it seem like I had really set up the meeting because I wanted to raise my grade. I hated math, and I hope I never had to use calculus in real life, otherwise I’d be screwed.
Before I entered the classroom I took a deep breath to prepare myself. I was nervous for three reasons. The first being that I might get caught, the second being that Mr. Miller was Sophie’s murderer, and the third being a combination of the two. In case Mr. Miller was the one who had killed Sophie, I had told Mason, John, and my parents that I was going to be staying after with him. I had even made sure that I stopped and said hello to the ladies in the main office and casually let it slip that I was going to Mr. Miller’s classroom to study for an upcoming test. I wasn’t taking any chances. I was going to be safe, whether Mr. Miller turned out to be the killer and attacked me in his classroom or not. This way, everyone knew where I was so that if I ended up like Sophie, Mr. Miller couldn’t say I never arrived. I smiled to myself. I had thought of everything, even if I was being paranoid.
Once I entered the classroom, I glanced at Mr. Miller, who was sitting at his desk with his glasses pushed up on the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his desk. He hadn’t looked up from what he was doing when I entered the room, so I said, “Thank you for staying after with me, Mr. Miller,” as I made my way to a desk near the front of the room.
After I made my presence known, Mr. Miller looked up and made eye contact. “You are very welcome, Miss Hale. Did you bring all of your past tests and assignments?”
I nodded my head.
“Good, I’ll be with you in a moment. I need to finish grading the ‘show your work’ part on these tests and then take them to the Scantron machine afterwards. I’ve made a worksheet for you to work on that is comprised of questions from past tests.” When I didn’t make any attempt to move, he waved his hand, gesturing for me to come to him. “Well, come and get it,” he directed.
I stood up and hurried to the front of the room to retrieve my worksheet. I nearly groaned when I saw how many pages were stapled together, but I held it in and made my way back to my desk. Once I was there, I made a big show of pulling out all of my previous tests, worksheets, my calculator, and a pencil. I wanted him to think that I was serious, and make him feel comfortable enough not to have to rush back to the room after he left.
Mr. Miller continued grading the tests on his desk for another fifteen minutes while I struggled with the worksheet. My plan of sleuthing had turned into a learning experience, and my brain felt like it was throbbing in my skull. Despite how much I didn’t want to, I continued working on my worksheet until Mr. Miller finally stood up from his desk with the papers and Scantrons in hand. I had been afraid the entire time that he was going to get up and come check on me and see if I needed help, but he didn’t. I’d made it to the next page by the time he finished grading.
“I will be right back,” Mr. Miller said, flicking his eyes to me before he exited the room.
I was out of my chair within moments after he left. My heart was pounding in my chest with fear that he had forgotten something and was going to turn back around and catch me. To be safe, I went to the door first and peeked out into the hallway, watching Mr. Miller’s retreating back as he turned at the end of the hall.
Once he was out of view, I hustled over to his desk and pulled out the drawer that the photo was in last time. I had expected it to be gone, but it wasn’t. It was sitting right on top of everything. I was surprised he hadn’t placed it somewhere else, but maybe he hadn’t because he didn’t have anything to hide. Maybe the arrow was a common symbol, and I was just trying too hard to find a connection anywhere I could find one.
I pulled the photo out of the desk drawer and stared down at it, my eyes focusing on the arrow. A flash of Sophie’s cut came to mind as I looked at it, and I knew it was the same. Without a doubt. The arrows were the same size, length, style—they were even on the same arm in the same spot. There was no way this was a coincidence. As I stared at the picture of Mr. Miller’s wife, I began to notice all of the similarities between her and Sophie. They both had wide eyes, long blonde hair, and now the arrows.
I remembered how uncomfortable Mr. Miller had gotten when we were all looking at the picture. I couldn’t help wondering why he kept a picture of him and his wife in his desk drawer, like he looked at it a lot, and not on his desk. Maybe his wife had divorced him, and he was still in love with her and kept the photo as a memory. Maybe he had targeted Sophie and killed her because of her resemblance to his wife. I shuddered.
Nervously, I listened for any sounds to alert me that Mr. Miller was coming back. When I didn’t hear anything I quickly snapped a photo of his wife’s tattoo with my phone. I made sure that it was clear so that when I showed Mason he wouldn’t be able to dispute it as a coincidence, even though knowing him, he would still try.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps in the hallway caught my attention, and thinking fast, I stuffed the picture frame into the inside of my jacket and pushed the drawer shut hurriedly. Unfortunately, the drawer got stuck on something that was inside, but I didn’t have time to fix it. I ran back to my desk, dropping into my chair and stuffing the frame into my open backpack just moments before Mr. Miller entered the classroom. Before he had a chance to walk to his desk and notice the drawer, I scooped all of my papers up from my desk and dumped them hastily into my bag. I zipped it while I stood up.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller,” I said loudly, gaining his attention as he neared his desk. “I have to go. Emergency at home.”
Mr. Miller’s face contorted into a strange look that showed he was thinking about something other than my outburst, before he forced an expression of concern. “I hope everything is all right.”
“I do too,” I responded as I bolted from the room, not wanting to give him a chance to notice the open drawer. This time I was alone. There was no one else to take the fall with me, and I was nervous to know what he would have done if I had stayed long enough for him to see it and what was missing.
***
I rushed out of the school, knowing Mr. Miller must have figured out I had rifled through his desk and wouldn’t be pleased with me next week. Thankfully, I had waited until Friday to instigate the plan or I’d have to see him tomorrow and explain myself. I’d still have to explain myself, but at least by the time Monday rolled around, hopefully he would have calmed down enough so he wouldn’t yell at me after class. I said a quick goodbye to the ladies in the front office when I rushed out, and then headed straight for Mason’s house, or so I thought.
I knew Mason wouldn’t be expecting me so I stopped to text him that I was coming over when I heard his voice calling to one of his friends. I glanced around. I hadn’t made it that far from the school, but I couldn’t see him. I heard a loud cry of excitement, and smiled. I knew where he was. Racing down to the fields, I kept an eye out for them. I had to pass by two baseball fields, actually I think one was a softball field, but I wasn’t sure what the difference was to be honest, and followed the sidewalk to an area my school lovingly referred to as ‘the pit.’
It was a natural depression in the land, the center of where four different hills combined to create the worst mud pit I’d ever seen when it rained, and where coaches would torture their players by forcing them t
o run hill drills, which was just racing up and then back down. I wasn’t much of an athlete, but just watching the drills made my legs hurt. I could never imagine running them.
I caught a flash of six or so players passing a ball, and saw the soccer goals were still around from soccer practice yesterday. I couldn’t see Mason in the cluster of people from the high viewpoint so I slowly descended down the hill to prevent myself from slipping and tumbling down the incline. Once safely at the bottom I made my way toward the pick-up soccer game. I spotted Mason easily once I got closer, and all of the other players stopped when they saw me.
I should have noticed that I was the only person here who wasn’t playing. Awkward.
“Hey, Mason,” one of the guys called. “Your girlfriend wants to talk to you!”
The other guys laughed. I must have been missing the point of the joke because I didn’t find it funny, but everyone else did. Mason let out a sarcastic laugh before flipping off some of the other guys with a playful smile. He ran over to me, the smile still plastered on his face, and gave me a hug.
“Ew,” I cried as I pushed him away. “You’re covered in sweat. I don’t want that all over me!”
“Sorry,” Mason said with a laugh. “It was a valuable opportunity. So what’s up?” he asked a little quieter as the other guys started to mess around while we talked. “Did you find something?” he asked curiously.
“I think so,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. I tapped the screen until I found the close up I had taken of Mrs. Miller’s tattoo as I exited the building. “It looks exactly like the one we saw in the police photos. That’s why it looked so familiar when I saw it.”
Deadly Hallows (The Dead Ringer Series Book 1) Page 15
