His eyes narrowed slightly. “You ever do self-portraits?”
Strange question. “No. Why?”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Just asking.”
The silence stretched on for an awkward moment. “So,” I said. “You had something to show me?”
He scanned the area and pointed at the only bench not covered in gum or dried bird poop. “Want to sit down?”
For the first time I noticed the messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “Sure.” I followed him to the bench and sat, shivering at the sudden chill in the air.
“This place is kind of creepy, don’t you think?” he asked.
I let my eyes roam. Sure, it was empty, run-down, and almost eerily quiet. I could see why Evan thought it had a spooky ghost town feel. But I remembered what it had been like before. I could almost hear kids laughing and families roaring applause for a hole-in-one. For me . . . places like this weren’t scary. They were lonely. Yearning for the people to come back.
I couldn’t coherently put those thoughts into words for him, though, and I didn’t want him to think I was a head case. So I shrugged and said, “I don’t mind it.”
He turned toward me and our legs touched. I jerked my knee away instinctively, then felt bad as a hurt look crossed his face. But it wasn’t that I didn’t find him attractive. I did. I felt something, in that momentary touch. But that’s why I pulled away. My brain was too frazzled to play a game of flirty knees right now. I wanted to find out what he knew.
“Down to business,” he said, opening the messenger bag.
I tensed, from my shoulders to my toes. This was it. His big secret. A feeling came over me, like whatever was in that bag was going to change everything.
He pulled out a large, thin mailing envelope. “I got this in the mail a little over three months ago. It was addressed to me. I assumed it was another college catalog and let it sit on my desk for a couple of days.”
He handed the envelope to me. I eyed it nervously before sliding my finger under the opening and reaching inside. There was only one item. I knew what it was immediately and only by touch. A photograph. I slid it out and my mind exploded.
It was a photo of me.
From the rosebush in the background, I knew I was in my driveway, probably walking from my car to the front door. The foreground was a close-up of my face and shoulders. My features were passive, completely clueless that someone was hiding with a camera, taking my picture.
My voice came out raspy. “Why would someone send you a picture of me?”
“It gets weirder. Flip it over,” Evan said dryly.
On the back were words, written in marker in all caps:
IF YOU EVER SEE THIS GIRL—RUN.
DON’T TALK TO HER.
DON’T LOOK AT HER.
JUST LEAVE AND FORGET HER.
LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT.
Something in my chest twisted. I stared at the words, breathing in and out, trying to make sense of them. My eyes went to Evan, who was watching me warily, like I was about to whip out a knife and stab him because he knew my evil truth. But I had no idea what this meant. None at all.
He looked at me sharply. “Who are you?”
My heart pounded wildly. I shook my head. “I’m Morgan. I’m no one.”
He eyed me doubtfully.
“Who took this?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Who sent it?”
“I don’t know!” he snapped, sounding almost as scared as I was. “I was hoping you’d have some answers for me.”
I read the words again. “Evan, I don’t know what this could mean at all.”
“Why would someone go through all this effort to warn me about you?”
“I have no idea.” And it was the truth, but I could see now why he’d been so suspicious of me. All of his behavior made sense. Why he was unnerved at the sight of me at the party. And why he’d wanted to see me again. It wasn’t that he’d found himself drawn to me. He was only trying to find out more information to protect himself from me.
“If you have no idea what this means, then why did you show up at a party that I was randomly invited to and shine a flashlight in my face? You want to tell me that’s a coincidence?” The distrust in his voice was obvious.
I shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “The party . . . that was something different.”
“You knew I was going to be there,” he accused. “You knew me.”
I averted my eyes. “Kind of.”
He pulled the picture out of my hand and stared at it. He was losing his patience. “You’d better give me some answers, Morgan. I think I deserve them.”
He was right. It was time to drop the pretense before he became convinced I was a psycho killer. I took a deep breath. “Have you ever heard of a guy named Flynn Parkman?”
He shook his head.
“Well, he was my boyfriend.”
Something flashed in his eyes—jealousy?—too quickly for me to recognize it. “So?”
I licked my lips nervously. “He looked exactly like you. Not a little bit. Like, a lot.”
Unimpressed, Evan said, “I don’t understand what this has to do with anything.”
I took a deep breath. “Flynn died three months ago in a hit-and-run accident. I’ve been . . . dealing with that. A week ago Toni made me upload a photo of him to FriendShare and write some cheesy line. Like a closure thing. Flynn wasn’t on FriendShare, but their facial recognition app suggested I tag the picture with your name.”
He studied me as I spoke. “A mistake,” he said. “I’m sure it happens all the time.”
“Yeah, except when I clicked on your name and saw your picture . . .”
He finally caught on. “You thought I really might have been him? What, that he faked his death or something?”
“I didn’t really know what was going on. I just needed to know for sure. Toni noticed you were mutual friends with Reece. We got him to invite you to the party so I could see you in person.”
“And that’s why you ambushed me with the light.”
I nodded numbly. “Yeah. And I would’ve been honest with you sooner, but you acted all cagey and afraid of me.”
He looked back down at the picture. “So you honestly don’t know why I got this in the mail?”
“No. And it’s creeping me out.”
He lapsed into silence for a long minute, like he was processing things. Then he met my eyes. “Were you disappointed that I wasn’t him?”
“To be honest,” I said, “I don’t know.” I let my mind return to that moment and how I’d felt. “If you had been him, that would’ve meant my relationship with Flynn was based on lies and betrayal.”
“But the alternative . . . that I wasn’t him . . .”
“Means he really is dead,” I finished.
He spoke quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’d only known and dated him for about two months.”
“But still.”
I nodded. “It sucks. I think people by nature always want to find closure. And I was almost there . . . until I saw your picture.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “How alike could we really look?”
I remembered that the only photo I had of Flynn was also stored on my phone. I pulled it out of my pocket, scrolled to the photo, and held it up. “Look for yourself.”
As his eyes settled onto the picture, he immediately flinched. He took the phone out of my hands. As he brought it closer, his eyes widened.
A heavy feeling settled into my stomach, watching him go through the same emotions I had when I’d seen his photo on FriendShare. First shock, then confusion.
“How is this possible?” he asked, his voice shaking.
It was strange that I was the calm
one now. I’d had more than a week to wonder about this. “It sounds crazy, but is it possible that you have a twin you didn’t know about? Were you adopted?”
He looked up at me with a dazed expression. “No. I have a younger sister, but that’s it. I wasn’t adopted. My father is a twin, but his brother’s dead and he never had any kids of his own.”
“But that means twins are in your bloodline.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Doesn’t it skip a generation or something?”
“Not always, I don’t think.”
He shook his head. “It’s just not possible that I’m a twin. Why would they separate us? It makes no sense.”
“Well, now that I’ve met you in person, I can tell that you’re not identical.” I pointed at his cheek, though there didn’t seem to be a chance of him smiling anytime soon. “Flynn didn’t have a dimple. And his hair was black, not brown. Is it possible that you have a brother around the same age?”
“No. No, this is just crazy.”
Feeling the urge to comfort him, I gently reached out for his hand. “I’m sorry. I know this has to be overwhelming.”
He looked up sharply, like he’d just remembered something.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing, it’s just . . . a nosy neighbor mentioned a few months ago that she saw me prowling around my own yard, peeking into windows. I knew for a fact I hadn’t been home at that time. I had practice after school. So I told my parents she was a crazy old bat who was seeing things. But what if . . . what if she saw this Flynn guy?”
That made no sense. “Why would he be creeping around your yard?”
“Why would I look exactly like him? I don’t know. All I have right now are questions.”
I gazed around at the empty course, like the answers were hidden somewhere in the graffiti or the rot.
Evan lifted the photo. “Is this your boyfriend’s handwriting?”
I gazed down at it and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“What, he didn’t write you love letters?” His voice seemed more jealous than teasing, and I wondered why.
“We texted.” I pointed at the words. “But if he had written me love letters, I don’t think he would have written them in menacing all-caps.”
He smirked. “Touché.”
I didn’t know where to go from here. Every time I got an answer, it created another question. I rubbed my arms. The chill in the air felt like it had seeped into my bones.
“Tell me about him,” Evan said suddenly.
I thought for a moment. “He was quiet. Thoughtful. Smart.” I paused. “Handsome.”
The side of Evan’s mouth lifted a bit.
I twisted my hands in my lap. “He was new here and didn’t have friends that I knew of, but he enjoyed spending time with me. I think. I actually don’t know as much as I thought I did.”
Evan’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? He was your boyfriend.”
“But he was . . . private. He didn’t like to talk much about himself. He said his family was messed up. I accepted that and never prodded.”
“But . . . ,” Evan said, sensing there was more.
I shrugged. “But then I found out he’d lied about a lot of things. He wasn’t enrolled in the private school he claimed he went to. He didn’t live at the address he said he lived at. There’s actually no record of his family living in town at all.”
Evan shook his head. “Well, if he’s dead, there has to be a death record or something, right?”
I shrugged. “He only lived here two months. I think his parents probably brought his body back to New Hampshire, where they were from. There wasn’t even a funeral or anything here.”
“But if he died here, the hospital or someone would have records, right? I’m just guessing—I don’t know how those things work.”
I hadn’t thought of that. But I did know someone who knew how those things worked. Maybe I could get the truth, once and for all.
I grabbed my camera bag and stood up, dusting off my jeans. “I’m going to look into that.” I hesitated, not really knowing how to end things. “Thanks for . . . showing me the picture.” I knew it had taken a certain amount of trust for him to do that, and I appreciated it.
Evan stood, too, and looked at me, his gray eyes intense. “I don’t want this to be the end.”
My neck flushed hot. “What?”
“This obviously involves me, too. I got the picture in the mail. The guy looks exactly like me.”
Oh. The mystery of Flynn. That’s what he wanted to be a part of. “Give me your number. I’ll let you know what I find out from the death certificate.”
“Do you want to meet here again or—”
“I’ll call you,” I interrupted. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to keep meeting him like this. I didn’t want to get too close.
Though part of me wondered if I already had.
CHAPTER 13
Cooper didn’t work at the Town Hall again until Monday afternoon. I lured Toni to my car with the promise of a ride home and a small detour.
“So what’s the detour?” she asked, tossing her bag into the backseat.
“Town Hall. I need another favor from your brother.”
“Blergh.” She rolled her eyes. “I see enough of that guy at home.”
I turned the keys and the engine roared to life. “You’ll miss him when he leaves for college in the fall. Admit it.”
“Maybe a little.” She pointed a finger at me. “But if you ever tell him I said that, I’ll text-blast the shaving cream picture of you from the fifth-grade sleepover to everyone we know.”
“That’ll only get me pity. My best friend accosted me in my sleep and kept photographic evidence. What a monster she is.”
Toni laughed. I followed the line of cars out of the school parking lot. When we made it to the road, she said, “Speaking of pictures, did you have any brainstorms over who would send something like that to Evan?”
Toni and I had spent Sunday together at my house, doing homework and watching a movie, and I’d filled her in on everything from my meeting with Evan.
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would I be a danger to anyone?”
I realized too late that the light had turned red, and slammed on my brakes. My worn tires squealed in protest.
“Your driving is a danger to everyone,” Toni said.
I gave her a look. “You’re distracting me.”
“Okay, I won’t ask you any more thought-provoking questions for the rest of the drive.” She mimicked zipping her mouth closed.
But as I was watching her, the light turned green. The car behind me beeped its horn.
Toni’s mouth zipper busted open with a loud laugh.
Minutes later, we walked into the Town Hall and found Cooper sitting at the front desk. At the sight of us, he stood and grinned. “Two dog licenses it is! That will be fifty bucks.”
He held his hand out and Toni slapped it, hard. “Ha ha. Very funny.”
Cooper looked at me. “Morgan, you know I’m kidding, right?”
Their little sibling squabbles usually entertained me, but I didn’t have the patience for it right then. “I need your help again,” I said, getting right to the point.
Toni put her hands on her hips. “And now you have to help since you called us dogs.”
Cooper held his hands up in defeat. “I am at your service.”
I took a deep breath. “Can anyone see a death certificate?”
Cooper raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure. Death certificates are considered public-domain documents.”
“Can I see Flynn’s?”
“We wouldn’t have it here. He didn’t live here, remember?”
“Would it be filed in New Hampshire, where he was from?”
“First off, you
don’t even know if that New Hampshire backstory he told you was true. But, no, death certificates are always filed in the state where the person died. He died at the Littlefield Medical Center, right?”
“Yes,” I said, remembering the feeling of his heart beating beneath my hand as they placed him on a gurney and put him in the ambulance.
“Then it would be filed in Littlefield.”
Evan’s town. I nodded. “Okay, I’ll go there.”
“Wait,” he said. “Let me make a quick phone call. I’ll meet you guys out front.”
I shared a look with Toni, but trusted Cooper enough to do what he said. We walked back outside where I’d parallel parked my car. Toni leaned against the hood and crossed her arms while I paced the sidewalk.
“I’m going out with Reece again next weekend,” she blurted out.
I gaped at her. “What?”
She shrugged and a playful little grin lit up her face. “You were right. He’s not that bad.”
“‘Not that bad’ isn’t a great reason to date a guy.”
“Okay, he’s more than that. In school he’s always been a giant toolface. But it’s an act. It’s like he pretends to be this character that he thinks everyone will like. But underneath, he’s actually really sweet and nice. And, one-on-one, I really like him.”
“Yeah, but what are you going to do? Date him on the weekends and hate him during the week when he’s Too Cool Reece?”
“I think he’s dropping the act. He was my Reece in school today.”
“Your Reece?” This made me a little worried. Toni didn’t fall often, but when she did, it was a twenty-story drop.
“Okay, not my Reece. Regular Reece.” She beamed. “I think I bring out the best in him.”
I reminded myself not to form an opinion too quickly. After all, I was the one who’d told her to take it easy on him. I just didn’t realize that to her that meant ending up crazy for him after one weekend.
“Well, I’m happy for you, then.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
The door of the Town Hall opened and Cooper strode over to us.
“Don’t waste your time,” he called.
Forget Me Page 8
