by Sara Shepard
Aerin glanced at Thomas. “Let’s go.”
They elbowed their way toward the exit. Aerin glanced over her shoulder once more for Seneca but couldn’t see her through the crowd. Anxiously, she elbowed around a knot of kids doing group tequila shots and peered into the little corridor. Tiny tea lights lit the path, and the air temperature, free from the crush of bodies, had dropped at least ten degrees. Not a single person was around.
Aerin listened for footsteps, breathing, anything, to indicate Brett was close, and though she heard nothing, she was almost positive someone was close by. What if this was a trap? She glanced at Thomas. What if Brett was watching? What if he was furious Thomas was with her?
“Hello?” she whispered. A wave crashed in the distance. Someone splashed loudly into the pool.
“Up there?” Thomas pointed to concrete steps to their right that led to the condo’s lobby through a set of double doors. Aerin nodded, and they took the stairs two at a time. At the top of the stairs, she looked around. The lobby was empty. Two elevator doors stood open. Even the front desk was eerily unoccupied.
Frowning, she stepped out of the lobby and walked down the stairs. To her left, perpendicular to the stairs and opposite the pool, was a chain-link fence. Beyond it was a vacant grassy stretch of sand that sat directly under the building’s expansive terrace. Aerin squinted into the dark lot. Maybe that was where Brett had gone? All she could see were some weeds, some trash, and a Dumpster. She looked up. The terrace loomed above, awfully high. It seemed empty.
It might be a perfect place to hide.
“Come on.” She grabbed Thomas’s hand and pulled him through a gap in the fence and into the lot under the terrace. She bumped her bare ankles against spare boards strewn about. The area was dark, and there was a strange chemical smell emanating from the earth. Every time Aerin took a step, she kicked against more trash and debris.
She heard a whimper and turned her head. It was just the wind, swishing the grass back and forth—right? But suddenly, as she stepped around a Dumpster, something new rose up in front of her, a dark, uncertain shape on the ground that turned her limbs to stone. Her breath froze in her throat. The moment seemed to stretch out for years, but finally Aerin dared to peek more closely at what it was: a crumpled, lifeless male body, half-hidden among the trash and the reeds.
She started to scream.
HEAD THROBBING FROM standing too close to the DJ’s speaker all night, Maddox was grateful when Seneca and Madison motioned him over. “Any news?” Seneca asked when he got close enough to hear.
“Nope,” Maddox said. He gazed around uneasily. “It’s aggravating, with everyone in masks. He could be right in front of us, and we wouldn’t know.”
Seneca bit her fingernail. “I know. But listen, Madison and I figured out a way to clear Jeff. His Fitbit shows that he was sleeping between eleven thirty p.m. and six a.m. the night Chelsea vanished. That can prove that he didn’t abduct her.”
Maddox blinked. “That’s great.” Of course Seneca had figured out how to exonerate him. She was amazing.
“Jeff’s on his way here. After I fill him in, he can go to the police.” Seneca stood on tiptoe to see over someone’s very tall, feathered hat. “Actually, where is he? It’s been at least ten minutes. He said he had something to tell me. It sounded urgent.”
“Speaking of not being able to find people, has anyone seen Aerin?” Madison piped up. She had her hands on her hips and was squinting at the food table.
Maddox frowned and pivoted in the direction she was staring. “Isn’t she right there?” But Aerin had vanished. “Huh,” he said softly, feeling a nervous frisson. “Maybe she just went to the bathroom?”
A wrinkle formed on Seneca’s brow. “Someone should text her. Just in case.”
Madison scrambled for her phone and sent a text. When Aerin didn’t reply, she rolled back her shoulders. “I’ll do a lap. I’m sure she’s okay.” But as she said it, her voice wobbled. Maddox’s stomach clenched.
Madison’s dark hair disappeared into the group, and Maddox and Seneca were alone. Seneca jiggled on her heels. “If only we could just message Brett and say, Okay, we’re here. What’s your big surprise?”
“I know.” Maddox ducked out of the way of a group of girls trailing large helium balloons behind them. “Maybe his surprise is that there isn’t a surprise?”
Seneca twisted her mouth. “Doubt it.” Then her phone beeped. Madison. Maddox leaned over to view the message. Think I see her heading toward the exit. She looks okay.
Maddox breathed out. Then he watched Seneca scroll through her phone some more, noting the time. “Where is Jeff?” she asked, annoyed. “I would have thought he’d drop everything to come here, considering what we discovered.”
Maddox felt a lump in his throat, recalling his conversation with Jeff yesterday—especially the look of extreme disappointment on Jeff’s face. “I think he’d drop everything just to see you, period,” he said softly.
Seneca’s head snapped up. “Huh?”
He let out a stifled, sheepish laugh. “Well, the guy’s into you. I thought you noticed.”
Seneca’s mouth made a line, and two bright spots appeared on her cheeks. “Whatever,” she said, gazing into the middle distance. “It doesn’t mean I’m into him. Not like that.”
“Because you’re not into anybody right now,” Maddox stated.
Seneca’s head jerked toward him, and her eyes narrowed. Maddox could feel her watching him, sliding her gaze over his features. He was about to apologize—he hadn’t meant the statement to sound accusatory; he was just stating facts. But when he peeked at her, she had a strange smile that seemed to be so many things at once—tentative, sad, but also…nervous. Jittery. Call him crazy, but he’d seen that look on her face before—he just thought he’d never see it again.
His stomach suddenly swooped. “Am I wrong?” he asked.
She turned to face him head-on. Her expression had changed to something sheepish, uncertain. She coughed awkwardly into her fist. “I know this isn’t the time or place for this, but I feel it needs to be said. It, well, it sucked not having our normal conversations for the last three months.” She was speaking so quietly, Maddox had to lean closer to hear her. “I felt totally rudderless. I made bad decisions.” She caught his gaze and lifted her chin. “I joined the Annapolis Parking Authority, for God’s sake.”
Maddox tried to laugh, but it came out choked. “That is a bad decision. I would have talked you out of that one.”
In the distance, the bass thrummed. Someone laughed loudly. Seneca suddenly feigned intense interest in her thumbnail. “I wish we would have talked, period,” she mumbled. “I wish…a lot of things.”
She looked so timid and unsure of herself. Maddox’s breath caught. Was it possible? He felt the corner of his lips wobble into a smile. Seneca smiled nervously, too. They both laughed, and a butterfly flapped its wings inside Maddox’s stomach.
There were goose bumps on his arms as Seneca slowly took his hands. He reached out and pushed a sprig of hair from her eyes. She smiled at him crookedly, and his heart squeezed. He was going to kiss her. Pull her to him. Whirl her away from this party and…forget, even just for a moment.
Then they heard the screams.
They shot apart. Maddox followed Seneca as she ducked haphazardly around partygoers through a small hedge archway at the perimeter. They found Madison standing in front of a chain-link fence. “It came from there,” she cried in a wobbling voice, pointing inside the vacant lot. “I think…I think it’s Aerin.”
Seneca ducked clumsily through a ragged hole in the fence. Maddox and Madison followed, blinking in the sudden darkness. When another scream rose up, his heart leapt to his throat. It was coming from somewhere very close by. He looked right and left. The patchy grass, jutting out of the gritty sand, quivered in a gust of wind. Aerin emerged in front of them, ghostlike, her eyes wild, her mouth open in a silent wail.
“What?” Seneca said
, grabbing Aerin’s shoulders. “What’s going on? What did you see?”
“Brett?” Maddox whispered, daring to say his name out loud.
Aerin’s mouth opened and closed, and she struggled to get sound out. Eyes popped wide, she gestured behind her. “There,” she whispered.
They pushed through the grass, bypassed some abandoned cardboard boxes, and rounded a Dumpster. Aerin stopped and pointed again. Maddox looked down. Something incongruously lumpy lay twisted on the ground. It had volume. Hardness. Angles. Seneca breathed in sharply and backed away. Maddox’s eyes adjusted, but it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing. It was a hand. A human hand.
“Oh my God!” Seneca screamed. “Someone call an ambulance!”
Maddox kept looking. Connected to that hand was an arm, a shoulder, a broken neck…and a head. The face was in profile, the skin an ashen gray, the lips slightly parted, a mass of long, thick hair cascading around the shoulders. Maddox took in the sharp nose, the chiseled chin, the enviable cheekbones. He clapped a hand over his mouth. The world started to spin.
It was Jeff.
THE NEXT THING Seneca really remembered, beyond the woozy backpedaling into the grass, beyond the sounds of the sirens, beyond the EMTs screaming that Jeff had no pulse, beyond Jeff’s mother hysterically crying and climbing into the ambulance with her son, beyond the hand on the small of her back, guiding her and Maddox into a cigarette-stinking police cruiser with sticky backseats and nonworking seat belts, was standing in the hallway of the police station next to a water fountain. The walls were white cinder block, and the air was chilly. She pressed the lever, and a stream of water made an arc near her mouth. It reminded her of an ocean wave, which reminded her how Jeff had said that she’d love surfing because she had good shoulders. And for some reason that reminded her of her mother sometimes straightening her shoulders, saying, Don’t slouch. You’re such a tall, strong girl.
It was so obvious Brett had done this to Jeff. I’ve got a killer surprise for you! And none of them had seen it coming.
“Seneca.”
Aerin, who had come in a separate police car with Madison, was heading down the hall toward her. Her cheeks were stained, as if she’d been crying. Then Seneca noticed the guy standing next to her. He was tall and clean-cut, though he had the same shocked expression Aerin did. He held a Guy Fawkes mask at his side. She instantly recognized him. It was Thomas, the cop from Dexby who’d helped with Helena’s case.
That sobered her up fast. “What’s he doing here?” she snapped.
Aerin looked stricken. “I-it’s a long story. But Thomas was with me when I found Jeff. He’s here to help.”
“We both saw Brett tonight,” Thomas added. “He was at the party.”
Seneca stared at Aerin, her whole body gone cold. “He knows about Brett?”
Aerin pushed her hair out of her round, frightened eyes. “I told him ages ago, before Brett sent that letter. But then we broke up and I forgot about it.”
“I came to find Aerin in Avignon. I demanded to be part of the investigation. Don’t blame her for any of this,” Thomas said.
Aerin let out a tormented whimper. “I feel like this is all my fault. I’m afraid Brett saw us talking, and he did something to Jeff.”
Thomas looked pained. “I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”
“But someone did get hurt!” Seneca roared.
“We know.” Aerin covered her eyes. “We’re so sorry.”
Seneca took even breaths, trying to calm down. She gazed at Thomas. His skin was pale, there were circles under his eyes, and he looked drawn. It was so obvious that he’d only wanted to help. The guy had practically been the first person on the scene when Marissa Ingram had accosted them at the Easter Bunny party, and he’d personally made sure each and every one of them was okay afterward. Her anger, she knew, wasn’t at Thomas—it was at Brett.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said wearily. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. But I have a feeling this had nothing to do with Brett seeing you guys together.” In her mind, Brett had killed Jeff because of Jeff’s text to her: I have something to tell you, too. Maybe Jeff had figured something out. And maybe Brett knew.
Then she realized what Thomas had said. Her heart started to rocket. “Wait. You saw Brett at the party? Are you sure?”
Aerin nodded. “He was all in black. I could only see his eyes—but that was enough.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Fresh despair rolled over her. Brett had been close, and she hadn’t known?
“He disappeared so abruptly,” Aerin explained. “I wanted to keep him in my sights, so I followed him. But when I saw Jeff in that lot, I forgot about him completely.” She clapped her hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry. I ruined everything.”
Seneca bit down hard on her lip. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice choked. “It’s mine. I took my eye off the ball. I should have seen Brett, too…but I didn’t.” It made her feel so weak, all of a sudden. So vulnerable.
“Excuse me? Can you come in here, guys?”
A young cop with reddish hair and a smattering of freckles leaned halfway out an open door down the hall. He reminded Seneca of Woody from the Toy Story movies, earnest and friendly and a little bowlegged, though he’d said his name was Officer Ethan Grieg.
Officer Grieg gestured for the group to enter the room, which was empty save for a circular wooden table and chairs. He dropped a plain spiral-bound notebook on the table with a slap, then pushed a Coke can toward each of them. Seneca stared at the one in front of her, then shook her head, feeling too sick for sugary liquid.
“Sorry to bring you guys in.” Grieg sank into a seat. “We just needed you to make a statement about what exactly happened when you found Mr. Cohen. Think you can do that?”
“Is he…dead?” Aerin blurted.
Grieg’s gaze dropped to the table. “It’s been confirmed,” he said stonily. “His neck was broken, seemingly from a fall. I’m very sorry.”
Seneca blinked hard, trying to process this. A fall. She thought about the terrace above the junkyard. Had he fallen from there? Or more accurately, had Brett pushed him?
Maddox briefly met her gaze, then looked away. His handsome features were muddled with torment. Seneca considered the swell of emotions she’d felt for Maddox only an hour ago but then quickly put them on a high shelf. Part of the reason she hadn’t noticed Brett at the party was because she’d been dwelling on her feelings for Maddox. The price for that distraction had been Jeff’s life.
With gulping breaths, Aerin and Thomas began to describe how they’d come upon Jeff in that vacant lot. Aerin must have drilled it into Thomas’s head that they shouldn’t mention Brett, because they both awkwardly mumbled that they’d simply been on the stairs and heard a strange noise. Seneca listened only halfheartedly to their words, instead thinking about what had just happened. Once again, Brett had done something awful, and once again, he’d gotten away.
Her blood boiled. Her hands curled into tight fists. She was so sick of this. She wanted justice for her mom, but not at the expense of lives. She was done with Brett’s game. This was about more than her now.
She looked up into the cop’s bleary eyes. “It’s Corey Robinson.”
Grieg held his Coke halfway to his lips. “Pardon?”
“Corey Robinson. He did this to Jeff. You need to find him.”
“Seneca,” Maddox hissed from across the table.
Seneca leaned toward the cop. “We think he abducted Chelsea Dawson, too. We have a photo of them together outside the night of the party, around the time Chelsea went missing and right around where her blood was found. Jeff knew all this. Maybe he was getting too close to the truth, and Corey had to shut him up.”
The only sound in the room was the rattling of the air-conditioning through the vents. Grieg sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “First of all, it’s too early to classify Mr. Cohen’s death as a murder. He fell from the terrace�
�it could have been an accident or even a suicide, but…Okay. You know all this how?”
Seneca licked her lips. “We’ve been looking into the case. As a group.”
A scowl crossed Grieg’s face. His freckles had disappeared, and his eyes darkened. “Can you tell me this kid’s name again?”
Seneca repeated it. She also told him about Island Time and Kate, who’d seemed uncomfortable answering questions about Corey, and then rattled off the address he’d put on the job application. After scribbling this down in his notebook, Grieg gave Seneca a steely stare. “Don’t move.”
His footsteps echoed through the hall. Once they faded away, Thomas cleared his throat. “Are you sure that was a good idea?”
Seneca opened her mouth, almost wanting to tell him that he didn’t have the right to an opinion. But maybe she was overreacting. Brett hadn’t killed Jeff because Thomas was a cop—he’d meant to do it way before he knew Thomas was even around. “This isn’t a game anymore. They need to find Brett before he does something worse.”
“I know, but what if telling the cops makes Brett do something worse?” Maddox said.
“I’m sick of Brett’s stupid threats.” She could feel the desperation rising in her, an almost palpable heat just beneath her skin. “This guy killed Aerin’s sister. My mother. Jeff. Brett has to be stopped, now. It’s time to end this.”
The fluorescent bulbs flickered. It was so quiet in the room, Seneca could hear the carbonated bubbles in Grieg’s can of Coke rising and popping. Seneca lay her head on her arms and closed her eyes, suddenly bone-weary.
When the door opened again, she jumped frantically, banging her knee on the bottom of the table. Grieg rushed in. There were a few papers crinkled in his palm. “This your guy?” he asked in an annoyed voice, slapping a photo on the table.