He glanced toward the computer screen, where Colin Milton Cooper still smiled. “The MIT crew team was out practicing early this morning and spotted poor Colin on the bank of the Charles.”
I looked at my lap, fiddled with my sweatshirt sleeve, pictured Simon rowing on Lake Kantaka. “How do they know he jumped?” I asked. “Did anyone actually see him? Maybe he fell, or was—”
“There was a note. On Longfellow Bridge. Attached to a single white balloon and weighted down with a glass paperweight.”
For the thousandth time that week, my eyes watered.
“Apparently, he let some girl get the best of him.” He dropped into the desk chair next to mine and crossed his arms behind his head. “They’re known to do that.”
“How do you know all this?”
“My dad. Connections. The usual ways.” He took his cell phone from the pocket of his blazer. “Want to know the creepiest thing?”
I didn’t, but he was already leaning toward me, pressing buttons.
“When they found him, his mouth was all twisted. Contorted.” He held out the phone. “Kind of like he was smiling.”
I stared at the photo, struggled for words. It wasn’t a full smile, not like the ones the victims had last summer, but it was close enough. “Where did you… how did you… ?”
“Police sent it to O’Hare, who sent it to Dad, who left his cell unattended while taking his morning bubble bath.”
Tearing my eyes away, I turned back to the computer.
“Hey.”
He was next to me now. Our elbows brushed together as I grabbed the mouse. Our skin was separated by four layers of clothes, but the touch still sent a fast, fleeting charge up my arm and down my spine. My hand shook so much I couldn’t hold the cursor steady long enough to close the picture.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was gentler, softer. “And stupid. I don’t know why I showed you that.”
“It’s fine. I just want to—I can’t seem to—”
His hand covered mine. The mouse stopped. Barely breathing, I watched the cursor glide steadily toward the corner of the screen. His pointer finger slid over mine and rested there briefly before pressing down.
Colin Milton Cooper disappeared.
I looked from the screen to our hands. He didn’t move his. Even worse, I didn’t move mine.
“I have to go,” I whispered.
“What?” He squeezed my hand, snapping it out of its hypnosis. “Where?”
I yanked my arm away and jumped up.
He reached for me, but I lunged back. I felt him watching me as I snatched my bag from the floor.
I didn’t know where I was going. Not at first. I just ran—out of the library, down the hall, through the front doors. Reaching the sidewalk, I turned left and kept running, my legs pumping harder, faster. I darted between people, flew across streets without glancing at traffic lights. Orange and red leaves swirled around me, but I hardly saw them, barely felt their dried edges flit across my skin. Over my thudding heart I barely heard horns honking, wind rushing past my ears… and eventually, the Charles River lapping against dirt.
I didn’t stop until cold water splashed around my ankles. Then I looked up, surprised to see where my body had led me without my brain consciously directing it.
Longfellow Bridge. It spanned the river, connecting Boston to Cambridge a half mile away. Five hundred feet overhead, morning commuters rushed by, oblivious as to what had transpired only hours before.
A crew team passed by. The rowers’ chants jerked me back to the present.
What was I doing? And why? Yes, Colin Milton Cooper drowned after jumping in the river. Yes, he’d had his heart broken only days before. But that didn’t necessarily mean that Raina and Zara… that they had anything to do with…
Simon. I rummaged frantically through my backpack for my cell phone. I still hadn’t returned any of his texts or calls, but I needed his voice of reason now more than ever. I needed to hear him swear that it was impossible, that there was no way they were involved because they were completely, totally, one hundred percent—
Dead. His battery must’ve died, because his phone went right to voice mail.
I closed my cell and scanned the river’s surface, looking—hoping—for some sort of sign. A flash of light, a sudden splash, a pair of silver-blue eyes. Anything to indicate that what I was thinking was possible, that I wasn’t crazy.
Without thinking, barely feeling the chilled water soak through my tights, I took another step, and another. The water rose toward my knees, crept up my thighs.
I could do this. I’d stopped them before, and I could do it again.
I hadn’t gotten far when a hard, fast force slammed into my stomach, shoving the air from my lungs. I lunged against it, reaching my arms forward and digging my heels into the mud, but it was too strong.
“Stop!” I gasped. “Please, let me—”
My calves collided with something and I toppled backward, landing on my left shoulder. The pain made me see white—and I temporarily forgot what I’d been about to do.
“It’s okay,” a male voice soothed.
The light dulled as the pain eased, and the river slowly came into focus. My head was spinning, and it took a second to register the arms around my waist, the khaki-clad legs enclosing mine like a fortress.
“You’re okay…”
My heart lifted.
Simon. Despite everything I’d said, despite not returning his texts and phone calls… he was here. He’d been so worried when he didn’t hear back that he’d come all the way down from Bates to check on me.
Closing my eyes against the fresh welling of tears, I climbed to my knees, wriggled around, and threw my arms around him.
“Thank you,” I whispered into his neck.
His hands pressed protectively against my back. Ignoring the small warning voice sounding deep inside my head, I pulled away slightly and kissed him.
His lips tensed.
“It’s okay,” I breathed against them. “I’m okay.”
His lips were still hesitant, but they responded, relaxing more with each brush of mine. Soon the kisses came harder, faster, deeper, until I forgot where we were and why. When he lay back on the ground, gently pulling me with him, I didn’t even open my eyes to see if anyone watched. I didn’t care.
“I’m sorry.” My mouth trailed across his cheek, toward his ear. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He pulled me closer, his hands moving from my waist to my hips.
“I missed you… so much.”
His hands stopped. “You what?”
My breath caught. I opened my eyes. Slowly lifted myself up. I saw the white shirt collar. Navy blue blazer. Gold embroidered shield.
“I just saw you at school ten minutes ago.”
My eyes spilled over when they reached his. They weren’t brown, or warm, or comforting.
Because they weren’t Simon’s.
They were Parker’s.
CHAPTER 17
“AND I THOUGHT Z was an exhibitionist.”
The reference to Zara made me jerk the steering wheel, which I’d been clutching tightly since leaving Boston for Maine an hour before.
“Sorry,” Paige said. “But that must be a good sign, right? That I can refer to my dead sister’s PDA in casual conversation?”
I focused on breathing—and driving in a straight line. Not wanting to worry her unnecessarily, I hadn’t told Paige about what had happened. It was the right thing to do, but keeping it to myself was becoming more of a struggle every day.
“PDA?” I asked.
“Public displays of affection.” She studied her cell phone screen. “I could count on a football team’s fingers and toes the number of times I caught her making out with random guys. But even she had limits.” She shot me a quick glance. “When it came to PDA. Not when it came to life and death. Obviously.”
“Who doesn’t have limits?” I reached for the water bottle in the cup holder
between the seats.
“Parker King.”
I jerked the steering wheel again—this time because the open water bottle was in my lap.
Paige handed me a stack of napkins left over from our last pit stop and took the wheel. “Want me to drive?”
“Nope.” I sopped up the water, tossed the wet napkins in a plastic convenience store bag, and took back the steering wheel. “Why do you say that? About Parker, I mean?”
She held out the phone. I glanced at it, then swallowed and kept my eyes glued to the road.
“I know.” She turned it back to her for another look. “Gross, right?”
I tried to agree, but the best I could do was nod. Considering that the photographic evidence in question was of Parker sprawled out on the ground with me on top of him, I thought that was pretty good.
“And who’s the girl?” She squinted and brought the phone closer. “His face is totally clear, but hers is hidden behind her hair.”
Thank goodness for small favors. I’d left Simon’s sweatshirt home that day to be washed by the housekeeper. Had I been wearing it, Paige—and everyone else at Hawthorne—would’ve identified me right away.
“Don’t know,” I said. “Who took the picture?”
She snapped the phone shut and tossed it in her purse. “No idea. But it’s on Prep Setters, that private-school gossip site. I signed up for text alerts—I thought it’d be a good way to get to know my new classmates.”
I’d heard of Prep Setters but had never visited their site. “Does the Web site give names?”
“Usually. This picture didn’t have any—the caption referred to them only as ‘Hawthorne’s happiest couple,’ so whoever submitted it probably doesn’t go to Hawthorne since everyone there knows Parker. But I bet it’s only a matter of time before someone recognizes them and writes in with the ID.” She paused. “Um, Vanessa?”
“Yeah?”
“If I wanted to fly, I would’ve taken a plane.”
I glanced at the speedometer; the needle hovered at eighty. “Sorry,” I said, taking my foot off the gas. “I guess I’m a little distracted.”
“Are you sure you want to drive on to Winter Harbor by yourself? Why don’t I call Riley and ride the rest of the way with you?”
“I’m fine. Promise.”
She reached over and squeezed my knee. As we drove in silence, I focused on road signs and tried to ignore my heart thumping faster with every turn. I knew Paige would’ve alerted me if Riley had said anything about him coming to Portland, too… but what if he’d changed his mind? What if he’d decided at the last minute to confront me in person? What would I say? Especially when all I really wanted to do was take back what had already been said?
I barely had enough time to think of the questions, let alone their answers. The restaurant we’d agreed to meet Riley at was closer to the highway than I’d thought, and before long we were pulling into the near-empty parking lot. When he saw us, Riley hopped off the hood of his Jeep and waved.
“Do you think this is okay?” Paige asked softly.
“What do you mean?”
She looked at me, her eyes suddenly sad, worried. “Hanging out with another guy? Even just as friends?” She paused. “Am I a terrible person for looking forward to seeing Riley today?”
I stopped the car, leaned over, and pulled her into a hug. “You could never be a terrible person.”
We were still hugging when Riley tapped on her window.
“Hey, cutie,” he said when she opened the door. He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then offered me an even quicker smile. “Vanessa.”
“Hi,” I said.
He looked down. Paige frowned at me. I looked past them both, feeling relieved and disappointed when no one else got out of the Jeep.
“Have a great time,” I said, forcing brightness into my voice. “Paige, I’ll see you in Winter Harbor tonight.”
Concern clouded her face, but she gathered her stuff from the floor and took the door handle. “At least try to stay under triple digits?”
“Done.”
I watched them start across the parking lot. He took her hand casually, easily, and she tensed and glanced back at me. I waved once, motioned for her to turn around, and drove away before I could make either of them more uncomfortable.
After all, it wasn’t their fault Simon hated me.
It was mine.
The Volvo’s ancient thermometer read sixty, which meant it was more like forty degrees outside, but I rolled my window all the way down and turned on the air conditioner. The farther I drove the hotter I became, until sweat ran down my neck and my clothes clung to my skin. But I didn’t stop to buy more water. I was afraid if I did I’d stop heading north, toward Winter Harbor, and go west, toward Bates.
What should’ve been a three-hour drive took two hours. I breezed past the sailboat-shaped sign announcing Winter Harbor’s entrance and sped into town and down Main Street. It wasn’t until I reached Betty’s restaurant that I finally slowed to a stop in the parking lot.
I retrieved my phone from my purse, and my heart sank when there were no messages.
You probably hate me. I don’t blame you.
I’d barely finished typing when I started deleting.
I’m sorry for not contacting you sooner.
I deleted again and stared at the blank screen. After our last conversation, which had ended with my running out of the Beanery and Simon sitting at the table, stunned, words were falling short.
Hi. How are you?
I pressed Send before I could change my mind, then watched the screen and waited for a new message to pop up. After a few seconds, I checked the sent folder and called my voice mail. Everything seemed to be working fine.
I climbed out of the car, and zipped up my jacket. It was ten degrees colder in Winter Harbor than it had been in Portland, and the breeze felt like swirling snow against my perspiring skin. By the restaurant’s staff entrance, I redid my ponytail and patted my face, hoping people would assume my skin was red from the cold.
“City slicker!” Louis the chef declared as I entered the kitchen. “Studying hard and partying harder?”
“Something like that.” I smiled, reminded of the first time I visited Betty’s last summer, after a near-sleepless night in the lake house. It had been two days after Justine’s funeral and my first full day all alone in Winter Harbor. I’d gone to Betty’s for breakfast—and anonymity among strangers. When I’d told Garrett the valet that I’d had a rough night, he’d taken that to mean I was nursing a hangover and had asked Louis to prepare me his special culinary cure. The supposed reason for my initial visit had been a constant source of teasing ever since.
“You’re in luck. I’ve just perfected this year’s pumpkin-spice pancake recipe. Instant remedy for all that ails you.” He grabbed a fork, speared a piece of pancake on the griddle, and cupped one hand beneath it as he came toward me.
“Amazing,” I said, savoring the warm, sweet bread. “I feel better already.”
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