by Tara Brown
“He took Rachel’s car from you girls at Sierra’s house and nothing ever came of that? Her GPS in her security system was deactivated so they couldn't track it. And no one has seen it since. It hasn’t been reported or found by any of the people tracking him, including the best PI my family knows. That car is either at the bottom of a lake or it's a pile of ash.”
“What about a chop shop?”
He opened his mouth to argue but paused. “There is one place I know that could and would do it for the right price. Let me look into it.”
“You going to call Hendricks?”
He chuckled and turned the flashlight off, leaving us in the awkward darkness. “No. I don't call Hendricks. He wouldn't take my call anyway. Only my dad and Crimson Cove Inc. speak to him.” He got up and walked to the door, bringing the book with us.
“Shouldn't we leave that here?”
“No. We need to gather evidence. The police and FBI had a chance in this room already. They didn't find this book. That tells me neither of them wanted to find it.”
“You think her parents stopped them from revealing her indiscretions?”
“Absolutely. She’s dead. Why let her ruin them as well as her own reputation?” His words were horrible, but I knew they were exactly the way our parents thought.
“If we hurry, we can get through Sage’s room before she gets home.”
“She’s sleeping at Rita’s.”
“Even better.” He walked from the room, leaving me there for the second I lasted before a shiver of cold air crept across me. It was like my dead friend was breathing on me as she watched us snoop through her things. I hurried after him, not excited about the next stop. At least Sage’s house was ridiculously easy to get in and out of.
Chapter Seven
The fairest of them all
Vincent dragged me through the window, scraping my legs on the edges of the frame. I winced and pulled them in. We’d climbed the wall around the property, just like we’d done when we slept over, to sneak in and back out.
“How are you so heavy when you’re so skinny?”
“Don't!” We both knew it was a huge-boob joke, but being alone made it horribly awkward. “Tell me some fun things about your summer and don't involve anything creepy.”
“I’m never creepy.” He looked defensive.
“I mean, just don't make it weird. We’re already doing something not awesome.”
“Saving our friend isn’t awesome?”
“Hanging out alone, just me and you, while Linds is passed out drunk is not awesome.” I cocked an eyebrow as I wiped the dust from the window off my legs.
“She trusts us both.” His face got a look I had never seen before. “You think I would risk my relationship with Lindsey for anything?”
The look in his eyes was my answer. “No.” I shook my head. “I don't. I just think—”
“You don't think any of that. You spoke to Sage who is trying to plant seeds of doubt in your head. Let’s not bullshit, Lainey. She said something to you, didn't she? I saw you two talking when I was getting Lindsey outside.”
There was no denying it. I couldn't lie to save my life. “Yeah.”
“She isn’t a nice person, Lain. She hasn't been a nice person in a very long time. You can only take so much hatred before you too start becoming hateful.” He turned his back on me and walked past Sage’s bedroom from the hallway where we had snuck in. The window was always unlocked. It was Sage’s way in and out at night. Her parents’ room was on the other side of the house, opposite Ashton’s, Sage’s, and Emily’s.
We entered Ashton’s room down the hall, moving silently so Hennessey didn't hear us. The old butler had ears like a hawk.
Vincent closed Ashton’s door when I got inside. He hurried to the closet and started lifting clothes and going through everything. I went to the blinds, the same as I had done in Rachel’s room, and closed them tightly. Then I went to the bedside tables, using my phone’s light to see that Ashton had nothing out of the ordinary. I checked under everything, lifting and rifling as fast as I could.
After checking under the bed and all the other places one might stash something, we both paused and looked at each other.
“You find anything that might suggest where he could have gone?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I didn't find anything useful. It’s like all the personality has left the room. Nothing, not even a single photo.”
“I agree. Her room then?”
“I guess so.” It seemed wrong to be going into Sage’s room without her saying it was okay. I wasn't like Lindsey; I didn't like it. I felt dirty, but I followed him out of the room and down the hall to her door.
He walked inside and closed the curtains the way I had done in Ashton’s and flicked on his flashlight. He didn't need me to tell him where to go. He walked straight to her closet and went to the very back where the large built-in dressers were. He pulled the bottom drawer out and reached in, grabbing the small box Sage always had her personal things in. He sighed and rifled, maybe annoyed at the things she had in there because they had once been his and she’d stole them as keepsakes.
There was something in the bottom of the box that gave him pause. He lifted it, revealing a black flip phone. He turned it over, showing me white letters.
“What does that say?”
“Answer me. It’s in that font.” The tone of his voice and the way he didn't stop to read the letters told me he had seen this before.
“Did you ever get a phone?”
“No.”
“This proves Sage was getting the letters. She never told us.”
“Unless this belongs to Ashton, and she took it to protect him.”
He had a point. I tapped my fingertips against my lips, wondering which it could be. “She looked genuinely shocked when Linds showed her the letter her brother had thrown in his trash can.”
“She might have faked that. She’s not exactly bad at faking things.”
“That’s what he said,” I snickered.
“Funny.” He groaned. “What I mean is she might have gone and ransacked his bedroom to take any and all evidence against him before the police got there.” He looked back at the box, tiptoeing his fingers through it. “Yeah, this isn’t for her, so maybe the phone isn’t either.” He lifted a piece of paper with a ransom-type note. As he read it he pulled back, looking confused. “This isn’t for Ash either.”
“What?”
He glanced up at me, still looking puzzled. “This letter isn’t for Ash or Sage.” He held it forward. “It was for Rachel. And it’s not in the font. It’s done with cut-up letters.”
“What does it say?”
“Fairest of them all, meet me tonight at your ball. Behind the pool house when the lights go out. Don't be late or you’ll miss out.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I don't understand.”
“If that's here, then Rachel never got it?”
“It would appear not.” His eyes lowered to the box, and in the stark beam of the flashlight his face paled. He hesitated before reaching in and lifting a handful of tiny pieces of paper. He let them go so they floated from his fingers as if they were raining down back into the box.
“What is that?”
“Letters, like on that letter.” He swallowed and looked at me again. “Cut up letters of all different colors and fonts.” He reached in again and pulled a glue stick from the box. “She’s got blank white paper and letters and glue.”
“But the killer uses the font.”
He nodded.
“What if the phone just hadn’t been delivered yet?” I shuddered, realizing that meant we had helped her flee her own crime scene. “What if she’s the killer? What if she’s not using the font anymore? Like sticking the letters on the back of the phone is easier?”
“I don't know about that.” He lifted his gaze to mine and nodded, not adding anything else. He looked into the box and lifted a single photo. “But I think I might know where Ashton is.”
I stared at the photo of the cottage with Ashton holding a large fish and wearing the biggest of smiles. “I know where that is.”
He nodded. “I do too.”
Chapter Eight
Is that a backbone? No, it’s a push-up bra.
I paced her bedroom silently, waiting for Lindsey to wake up. She looked rough, even sleeping, and had drool under her cheek, making a dark stain on the pale purple pillow.
Voices from the hallway drew my eyes and ears to the door. Mr. Bueller was shouting, no doubt at the stepmonster. I crept closer and leaned in, listening to the anger in his voice as he screamed, “THEN GET OUT!”
“I HATE YOU!” Louisa shouted back, but she sounded like she was sobbing. A door slammed and Mr. Bueller bellowed something else I couldn't hear. Another door slammed and then a car skipped on the driveway. I hurried to the window to see Louisa driving away in her convertible like Cruella De Vil.
“Oh shit,” I muttered and watched as her family split up.
Lindsey moaned and rolled over, wiping her cheek. “What time is it?” Her voice was gravelly as if she’d been smoking for years. “My head.” She winced and lifted a hand, shuddering and closing her eyes again.
“You better get up. Me and Vincent found something last night, and I need—”
“You and Vincent?” Her eyes popped open. “Jesus, Lain, was Sage right? You and Vincent snuck off together last night?”
“What?” I opened my mouth to defend myself, but the wrong thing came out, “We didn’t sneak off. We were looking for—”
Lindsey lifted her cell phone to reveal a message from Sage, telling her that Vincent and I had left the party together and he was up to his old tricks again. “Get out!” she croaked and pointed at the door.
“What?”
“You are such—no, wait. I’m the asshole. I thought he actually meant it when he said—let me guess, he gave you the old Disney princess lines and made you feel special?”
“Are-are y-you still drunk?” I sputtered. When I got upset I couldn't stop it. My face was flushed.
“I can’t believe Sage was right! I can’t believe you would let Vince be more important than me. Get some self-esteem and your own boyfriend, Lainey!”
“You are an ass-asshole.” I turned and fled the room, hurrying down the stairs, past Lori, who was about to ask me if I wanted a latte as she always did, and Robert who got the front door for me.
I jumped in my car and drove to the gate, speeding down the road. I couldn't believe Sage had been right about Lindsey being pissed. I couldn't believe Lindsey would think it. Not of me. Vincent—okay, that made sense. But me? I hadn’t ever done anything to make her think that.
My cell phone rang, but I ignored it.
My head was filled with hateful things.
When I skidded across the road into my driveway, my back end swayed back and forth, nearly hitting the gatepost.
I slid into my parking place and hopped from the car, slamming the door.
My mom greeted me in the entrance with a sneer. “Where have you been?”
Wiping the tears flooding my cheeks, I jumped, pausing and swallowing most of my anger. It turned to fear and a lack of self-worth in her cold stare. “Lindsey’s.”
“Your father and I stayed up all night waiting for you to come home.”
Something changed in that moment.
Maybe it was her lie.
Maybe it was that my best friend had just betrayed me.
Maybe it was that nothing was adding up and my mind was a jumbled mess of information.
Whatever it was, I snapped. “You and Dad? He’s home is he?” I cocked an eyebrow, asking it in a way I didn't expect. My tone was horrid. Not much anger had faded away. “He stayed here last night? Didn't sleep at the office?” I did the finger quotations on office.
Her eyes narrowed, but she seemed a bit shocked by the tone. “He was here. He got home late.”
“Of course he did. He’s always late. And just so you know, you can’t bitch when I go to the party and then again when I stay home. It’s one or the other. Either you don't want me to go or you do.” I folded my arms and leaned in, whispering my next words, “Maybe worry about your own situation and not mine.”
Her lip trembled with anger. “I will not be spoken to that way in my own house—”
“Lainey?”
I turned and looked at my father on the grand staircase.
“What are you doing talking to your mother like that?”
Pressing my lips together I refused to look away from his stare. The words I wanted so badly to scream sat on the tip of my tongue. They wanted out. He flinched before I did, maybe seeing the truth and knowledge in my eyes.
“You’re obviously tired. Why don't you go and have a lie down?”
Tears were flooding my eyes and face, making everything in that moment a funny shape. I walked past Mom and climbed the stairs, ignoring them both. I flopped down on my bed and watched a thousand images dance upon the ceiling.
My cell phone rang again, but I didn't acknowledge it.
Instead, I got up and sat at my desk, drawing the note and the phone from memory. Sketching took the rage away.
When I finished all our little clues, I wrote down what Vincent and I had discovered and carried it all into my closet, pinning them each in the right spot.
I leaned against a wall of shelves and stared at the spider web and all the developments that had been made.
Sage’s name gave me the chills. She had told me to forget about her brother. Was that because she wanted him to say away? In case I asked him about the stuff in her room?
I looked at the drawing of Ashton holding the fish and knew I had to go there. What if he was protecting her because he knew she had killed Rach? His staying away kept him in the spotlight.
I bit my lip and contemplated the possibility of going alone. I could but if I was being honest, it scared me. I walked from the closet and grabbed my cell, ignoring the calls from Vincent and Lindsey, and pressed the name of the one person I knew I could ask anything of.
“Hey, Lain. What’s shakin’?” Jake sounded more cheery than I expected him to be.
“I need you to come with me. I think I’ve found something.”
“I was worried when you left last night. You all right?”
“Yeah. I just need some help.”
“I’ll pick you up in half an hour.” His tone drifted into a more serious one. He clearly understood what I meant.
“Kay.” I hung up and stared at the wall, wondering if Sage had somehow had the dress duplicated. And afterward she could have manipulated Rachel by telling her the silver dress looked bad on her and she should give it to Sierra. Then the blonde, a friend of Sage’s we didn't know, wore the silver duplicate. It made sense, but why? Why would Sage want to kill Rachel and then Andrew’s dad?
Of course she would’ve had so much opportunity it was ridiculous.
It wasn't a stretch to suggest she had lured Rachel into the woods after they had fought, killed her, maybe with the help of the girl in the silver dress. Then drugged herself and got the girl with the silver dress to make sure they were positioned.
It made sense why she had tried to drug the rest of us. That took care of the people who would most likely be with Rachel.
Or was she trying to frame one of us?
Of course, Lindsey.
I flashed back to the fight between Sage and Ashton.
“Wait.” My brain did another loop of the facts we’d found.
There was also the distinct possibility she was framing Ashton. The favorite child. She started the fight with him, provoking him so he was angry before he even left for the party. Then killed Rachel and forced Ashton to leave with her threatening letters.
And then of course she went after Lindsey—she had stolen Vincent from her.
The puzzle was making sense but things were still missing.
Like why Mr. Henning?
I closed the
spider web and turned, grabbing a hoodie and some jeans so at least I would be comfortable.
A small part of me wanted to put on makeup and redo my hair in case we found Ashton. I didn't want to look plain. Especially since Jake had said Ashton would be searching for me if I were the one missing. That made me think he cared.
I glanced at the hoodie and pressed my lips together, dropping it, and picking a cute blouse. I pulled off the extra tight sports bra, releasing the girls, and grabbed a cute lacy bra that didn't hide the slightest bit of boob. I watched myself in the mirror as I put it on, struggling with the fact I looked like a Victoria’s Secret model.
My instincts were to shut it down, but I forced myself not to change out of it and dragged on the blouse. The flimsy material and lacy bra made me uncomfortable so I hauled on a cardigan to at least appease the part of me that didn't like feeling sexy. When you remembered how every pair of eyes had leered at your chest, even when you were very young, it was hard to want to be sexy.
I had spent an entire lifetime being the girl who went under the radar. I was never going to be comfortable with being seen. I was still the only one the rag papers didn't hunt and follow. They rarely got my name right if I was in the picture. It suited me just fine.
I slipped on a pair of black leggings and some knee-high boots. The dark floral blouse and beige cardigan just covered my butt, but the leggings were so tight they showed off a lot of leg.
Not fighting the desire to look somewhat attractive to him, I dragged my ponytail out and fluffed my hair. The curls were still there from the night before. I grabbed mascara and lip gloss and did the bare minimum to ensure I didn't look too tired.
Not that I was.
I was on edge about everything.
Lindsey hated me based on an assumption that I didn't know if a simple sorry would fix. And if I was being honest, I sort of hated her. Telling me to get my own boyfriend and some self-esteem would stick with me for a long time.
I felt betrayed. My mind whispered that I didn't know what Sage had said to Lindsey though. I didn't know what kind of bull she had spewed in her ear, making her doubt me the way she’d made me doubt Vince.
