Principal Kiefer . . . Bailey had a bone to pick with him . . . she could hardly look at the man. He was the lover her mother had left her father for. It hadn’t been some other nameless guy from high school; that had just been the lie her mother told. Over the years, Bailey had come to grips with that shocking reality, but she still didn’t feel quite right about it. Now she forced herself to give him a once-over and was glad that the last ten years had thinned his hair and deepened the lines on his face. Though her mother’s affair with him had burned bright and hot for a while—ruining Kiefer’s marriage, apparently—they’d eventually ended it. When the Proffitts had moved away after Carmen’s death, her mother had lost her friend and confidante. Shortly thereafter, her relationship with Kiefer had ended as well.
Kiefer, possibly feeling the weight of her gaze, glanced her way. Bailey’s eyes slid toward the guys’ group. She didn’t want any contact with the man and also didn’t want him to misinterpret her quick look as an invitation for a confab. Hell, no.
One of her classmates separated himself from the guys’ group, which had moved from the keg to stand near the door and eye the women coming through as if they planned to pick one off, just like in high school. That lone man was Justin Penske, she realized. His cowlick was tamed tonight, and he’d lost some of the starkness of his freckles, as they seemed to have melted into his skin tone some. No more alabaster skin and brown spots. He’d been unusually attentive to her after Carmen’s death, but that had only lasted through the summer and then had seemed to fade away.
Now he met her gaze and started heading her way. “Bailey,” he said with a slight smirk. His attitude apparently hadn’t changed a whole lot.
“Penske,” she responded, as no one had called him by his first name in high school and still didn’t, as far as she knew.
“What are you doing, hiding out here?”
“Don’t think I’m hiding out.”
He glanced over at Zora and Delta. “Then why aren’t you with your old friends?”
“Why are you with yours?” she countered.
“ ’Cause I like ’em. Don’t you like yours?”
“What do you want, Penske?” Bailey asked, through with the chitchat.
“Do I have to want something? Aren’t we friends?”
We never were before.
He waved a hand, slapping that away. “This reunion got me thinking a lot about high school. Probably the same for all of us. Reminded me of the pig roast and all. Your friend Carmen and everything that happened . . .” He trailed off, his gaze on her.
Bailey nodded and then, under his harsh eye, said, “I’ve tried to put it behind me.”
“Bullshit, Quintar. You were really upset, understandably so, but you were really mean. Really, on all of us, like it was our fault.”
It was your fault. All of you. Led by Tanner.
“You still feel that way,” he added. Bailey was deciding whether she would cop to that or not, when he put in, “I talked to Greg.”
She felt her insides go cold. Carefully, putting on her “cop face,” she said, “I didn’t know you knew Greg.”
“We’re both in real estate. We see each other around.”
“Greg works for Cipole Industries, Internet security, and—”
“And Cipole has commercial properties they’re trying to sell. I’m their guy. Hey, it’s you who introduced us.”
Ah, yes. It had been one time, when Penske had wandered into a Portland restaurant and spied Bailey, who’d inwardly groaned. Yes, she worked in West Knoll, and yes, she’d rented an apartment there, but she really tried to keep her personal and business lives separated.
Greg never told you he knew Penske. Never even mentioned his name. “Is this friendship fairly new?” she asked.
“Guess it’s heated up the last few months. Why? Jealous?”
Bailey knew everyone thought she’d gone a bit mad and maybe still felt that way about her. She figured it was time to end this conversation and made as if to move away.
“Okay, wait, wait . . .” Penske held out his hands when she took a few steps to go around him. “I’m not trying to yank your chain. Greg just said you’d . . . well, that he’d seen your journal.”
“My journal,” she repeated coldly.
“The one you were writing that summer, right after she died.”
“She was Carmen.”
“I know, Bailey. And I know how you felt about it that summer. . . maybe how you still feel about it.”
“Yes.”
“It’s good that you’ve . . . calmed down,” he added lamely.
Is that what I’ve done? Bailey bristled inside, but she kept a stony outward demeanor.
He glanced back to the group of guys. Tanner was saying something in a low voice, and all the guys were leaning in. Whatever it was had them all reeling back and guffawing. A couple of them looked around the room at the women. Brad Sumpter’s wild gaze settled on Amanda, who’d shown up in a gray dress with a plunging neckline, a silver medallion on a thin silver wire nestling between her breasts. Her husband was with her, but he seemed out of place among the classmates. As if finally unable to take it anymore, he suddenly headed for the bar.
“I know she talked to you about what she saw,” said Penske.
Bailey dragged her attention to him once more. She was thrown back in time to Carmen at the barbecue. “I saw something. . .” But she had never had a chance to say what that was. The thought had plagued Bailey for years.
There was a long pause between them. Bailey wanted to ask what the hell Carmen had seen, but she knew Penske wouldn’t tell her if she showed too much interest. She managed to hold the silence longer than he could, because finally Penske spoke as if a dam had broken. “It was just so obvious how Carmen felt about him. Tanner knew. We all knew. You knew. So when she saw him with her, his hand down her pants, you know, and them getting it on, it threw her. She shouldn’t have been looking for him. I mean, what? Did she really think he and Amanda were just good friends?”
Bailey slid a look toward Amanda, who was standing to one side with her husband. It appeared she was drinking straight vodka, but Bailey sensed it was probably water. Amanda had never been a huge drinker, even when they’d all binged in high school. She’d always been a loner, however, and now she was an island.
“Tanner felt bad that she saw, but . . .” He spread his hands.
“Carmen saw Tanner and Amanda together.” That was it? All those years thinking her words held deeper meaning, and that was it?
“Uh-huh. Always wondered if Carmen couldn’t take it and just decided to end things right then and there.”
“No.”
“I know that’s what you said at the time. I just thought maybe, with time going by and all of us moving on, sort of . . .” This time she saw him glance back at Tanner and then Delta.
“Carmen did not commit suicide.”
“But Counselor Billings tried to help her, and she pushed her away. Nearly drowned them both. Wouldn’t accept help.”
“She didn’t let Miss Billings help her because I’d fallen in and she wanted to help me. She just didn’t reach me in time.”
“You survived, and she didn’t.”
“I think she was messed up. Someone messed her up, with drugs maybe.”
He let that go by with a shrug. “Amanda wasn’t the only one he was with, y’know? If Carmen saw him with somebody else, too, somebody or somebodies maybe worse . . . ?”
“Somebodies?”
“Like, you know . . .”
“Spell it out for me, Penske.”
“A couple girls.”
“At the same time?”
“Nah. He wasn’t trying to get himself killed.” He barked out a laugh, throwing a glance toward Tanner, who was now standing beside his wife. Delta looked stiff and cold as a glacier. “But there were others willing to . . . well, we were all drunk, and it was the end of school. He wasn’t the only one getting laid. But I know Carmen saw him w
ith someone, maybe several people, and she wasn’t the most stable. Don’t get pissed. She was single-minded when it came to Tanner, and like you said, he was never going to be with her. I’m just saying. It’s possible she went into that water on purpose.”
“She did go in on purpose. Like the rest of you followers,” Bailey said coolly.
“You went in, too.”
“I just said I fell in. Jesus, Penske.”
He lifted his hands. “Okay . . . But we agree Carmen went in on purpose.”
“To prove she was an athlete. That she could do it.”
“I was around her, too, Bailey. She was sad. I mean, fucking slit-your-throat sad. That’s what happened to her. When Greg told me about your journal, I wanted to talk to you. Let you know. Carmen saw him with Amanda, among others. She just gave up.”
“What others?”
He held out his arms, encompassing the whole room. “Easier to find the ones he didn’t have hookups with. And a lot of ’em took place that night.”
“Carmen did not kill herself. Maybe her death was an accident, maybe it wasn’t. I don’t give a damn how many girls Tanner slept with that night, or any other time. Carmen knew he was with Delta, who flat-out told me she wanted to kill him, by the way, but Carmen knew Tanner wasn’t hers. Maybe she lost some hero worship that night, but she wasn’t suicidal.”
He waggled his hand from side to side.
“You didn’t know her. None of you guys knew her. And I’m done talking about her.” Bailey turned to leave.
“There’s just no conspiracy, Bailey. Carmen died. Maybe she meant to do it, maybe she didn’t. But it just happened. And Tanner’s always felt bad.”
“Oh, sure.”
“He never wanted anything bad to happen to anyone.”
“I’m not in love with him like you and everybody else,” she said coldly.
He snorted. “Oh, not everyone’s in love with him anymore. I could tell you stories . . .”
“I don’t want to talk about Tanner anymore, either.”
“You’re as bad as McCrae, y’know? Is it a cop thing? Neither of you wants to revisit high school, even though you’re both here.”
At the mention of her coworker, Bailey glanced over to Chris McCrae, who was hanging near the keg. He was holding a beer, and Bailey noticed, not for the first time, how he, like Penske, had gotten better-looking as they neared thirty. McCrae’s hair was thick and dark brown, brushing his collar. He had a close-clipped beard that Bailey’s dad had griped wasn’t really regulation, which amused Bailey. Her father could be such a stodge. But sometimes, looking at McCrae directly, she sort of forgot what was being said. He was that appealing.
“McCrae has some sense,” she said.
“You didn’t think so when we were in high school.”
“He didn’t have as much then.”
“Do you talk to him about your Carmen theories?”
“We talk about our jobs, Penske. That’s what we talk about. The Crassleys? That’s what we talk about.”
He lifted his hands, and this time Bailey did move away from him. He knew, as well as anyone in West Knoll, that the Crassleys were a family of bullies, brawlers, and thieves. The Crassleys hadn’t had a student in Bailey’s graduating class, but it was about the only year one of the eight Crassleys had skipped. Above and below their class had been Gale and Booker, who had been in constant trouble as kids and were into ever-deepening criminal activity now. The Crassleys took up a lot of the West Knoll department’s time and energy.
“What are you doing afterward?” Penske suddenly asked, before Bailey got out of earshot.
She stopped trying to edge away and looked back at him. “After this? Nothing. Going home to my dog.”
“Would you like to do something else?”
“No. But . . . thanks.” She was flummoxed. Not because she wanted to spend any more time with Penske, but it had been a while since any guy had shown any interest in her at all.
“I was thinking of getting some real food. Not just ‘light hors d’oeuvres.’ You could join me?”
“I just got here.”
“How about this? We do a little more reconnoitering, say hi to everyone we’ve missed, then vamoose?” His eyes took a trip around the room. The decibel level had increased, and Bailey had had to return a step back closer to him to hear. She saw his gaze linger on someone, his lids narrow a bit, but when she turned around to look, there was no one in his direct line of sight. Amanda and her husband were still standing together again, albeit like two frozen robots, McCrae seemed to be walking toward Ellie, Zora and Delta had turned their backs to each other and were talking to other people, Coach Sutton and Counselor Billings were gazing at Principal Kiefer and Mr. Timmons, who were both looking deadly serious in a way that seemed out of place.
“I don’t—”
“Shhh.” He placed a finger over her lips. “We’ll circle the room, meet up again in half an hour, and you can reject me then.”
She hesitated, but he’d already turned away. Bailey seriously thought about just leaving. What the hell was she doing here anyway? What had she expected to find? But, say what you will, Penske had intrigued her a bit, so she decided to stay awhile longer, face some old friends, engage in more meaningless chitchat. What the hell. She probably would never go to another reunion.
Inhaling a deep breath, she headed in the general direction of Zora and Delta and Amanda, the remaining members of the Five Firsts.
Chapter 11
Ellie felt her heart flutter as Chris McCrae walked toward her, and she inhaled a slow, calming breath. Ten years. Ten years. She hadn’t seriously thought about him since their one-night stand. Well, she had, but when she’d realized the encounter had meant nothing to him, she’d purposely dropped him from her mind. He was high school. The past. They hadn’t had any kind of relationship, and no one had known about them doing it at the barbecue, so it was like it had never happened. In truth, she’d thought more about Tanner in the time since than McCrae. She and Tanner had at least had a whirlwind affair that first year of college when Delta had been stuck back in community college. It had been a lark. A fun time. She hadn’t wanted anything further from him then or now.
McCrae had been her second choice behind Tanner the night of the barbecue. She’d used him for the experience she lacked. That was all.
Still . . . he looked damn good. No escaping that. Even though he was a cop, and she didn’t know exactly how to feel about that. The twins, at sixteen, had already had a few scrapes with the law and, despite Oliver and Mom’s best efforts to smooth things over, they were developing reputations with West Knoll’s finest.
As McCrae neared, she also remembered how she’d thought she was pregnant, wished for it almost. The thought gave her a jolt of disbelief. It was shocking to remember the little idiot she’d been. It almost felt like someone else’s memory. When Amanda’s pregnancy had been revealed, Ellie had realized how much she’d dodged a bullet. If they’d both been knocked up by the hottest guys in the class at the same time, somehow Amanda would have eclipsed her on that as well. Not that she’d been looking for that particular kind of notoriety, but good God, she couldn’t even lose her virginity without one of those goddamn Firsts stealing the spotlight from her.
“Hi, Ellie,” said McCrae.
She was surprised by how aware she was of him. Not romantically, of course. It had never been about that, and anyway she had someone she was desperately in love with and their affair was burning hot as wildfire. Unfortunately, that relationship was taboo, not to be talked about. She hadn’t been able to bring him to the reunion, and Alton would have thought it was a joke anyway. And if it were to come out somehow, and his wife found out . . . KABOOM. Nuclear explosion. Ellie would lose him, her job, and maybe even future jobs in the industry.
“Hi, McCrae,” she said. “Chris.” She inwardly groaned recalling how she’d tried to call him by his first name when she dreamed of marrying him, the father of her unbor
n child.
“I see you on the news almost every night.”
“You tune in to Channel Seven?” She reported the weather, which was an okay position but not where she wanted to be. She’d been working on moving up, but so far, no dice. That’s how her relationship with Alton had begun. Sleeping with the boss. But she really did love him. She did. And, yes, it was a cliché, but his wife, Coco, bitch of the highest order, did not understand him.
“It’s on at the station, and I’m there usually after six.”
“Yes, I heard you and Bailey were on the West Knoll force. Congratulations, I guess.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment. She almost brought up Joey and Michael and their delinquent behavior but decided against it.
“At least you didn’t greet me with ‘How’s the weather?’ That’s one I’ve never heard before,” she said.
McCrae smiled, and the transformation was magical. One moment he was intense and stern, maybe even condescending—or was that just her own guilt?—but then that smile. She wanted to bask in its brilliant warmth.
“How’s the weather?” he asked, and they both laughed.
“Partially sunny, but there’s rain in the forecast.”
Last Girl Standing Page 14