by Jill Cooper
I have to be strong. I have so much to live for.
The party marches on. As the night winds down, I spot Jenny and Carolyn waiting for me across the crowded room. Jenny nods, and I know it’s my moment. I nod back before smiling up at Jackson. My hand on the back of his neck, I kiss him. “I’ll be right back. I just need some fresh air.”
He grabs my fingers and pulls me close. “Let me come with you.”
I almost do, but I know his mother would never let me rest. She’d never let him go. I nuzzle his cheek. “Just a moment, and then you can come find me. I promise. There’s someone I need to talk to.” I slip my hand out of his and hurry toward the exit.
I dodge other students, slipping past. Along the wall, Martin sips a glass of punch, and his eyes are firmly on me. As I step left, so does he. If he’s planning to make a move, I think it’ll be soon.
Pushing open the door, I rush outside and race through the parking lot. I stop at my car and slip my shoes in the trunk. I check to make sure no one is around and make my way through the trees, angling toward the cliffs. The grass is soft and moist between my toes. Then the rocks are pointy and jagged, and a few of them feel like razors.
The closer I get to the cliffs, the louder the ocean is. I peer down at the water crashing below and the way the surf foams. Carefully, I remove the tiara from my head and the sash from my shoulders. I dangle them over the edge and drop them. The crown slams on the rocks on the way down, and it breaks in half. The sash flutters and floats this way and that before getting lodged on a branch growing between the rocks.
Good enough.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Almost done. I’m so close.
“Amber! What do you think you’re doing?”
I squeal as Martin grabs my arm, and a moment later, I lose my footing.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jessica: September 12th, 2020
Acorn Creek is over two hours away. A bus ride adds two additional hours to that trip, and I’d never get back home before my mom. So, I do the only thing I can do. I call Cameron and beg for a ride after we talk about Maxx. I sit down on the edge of my bed and pray that he’ll say yes.
“Why do you have to go there?”
“It’s a thing I’m doing.” I cringe. “It’s my next step in the Amber Chetwood murder investigation.” I hold my breath and wait for him to tell me I’m crazy.
He doesn’t. “Sure. I’ll pick you up in ten. I just need to come up with something to tell my dad.”
We say goodbye, and I fill my backpack with snacks and add a bottle of water. I hope I know what I’m doing. If I get caught, my mother will most likely install bars on the windows like in that classic, Nightmare on Elm Street.
Cameron’s car is a gently used 2018 silver Nissan. In any other town, it’d be considered a nice car, but here, it’s practically slumming. I load Cameron’s GPS up with the address to the city and figure we’ll ask around about Cathy when we arrive. Before long, we’re humming down the road and listening to tunes.
I hand him a granola bar and toss him a glance. He looks nice in his relaxed jeans and long sleeve t-shirt. He wears a flannel over it like he’d be more comfortable in Seattle. “Why did you guys move to Bay Harbor?”
Cameron shrugs. “My dad got a job here. It’s not every day he gets job offers.”
“What’s he do?”
“Historical architecture. Like a curator, I guess. I always thought it was boring, but when he talks about it, it’s kind of interesting. How about you?”
“My mom got invited to apply for a job for the city. She really likes it so far. The town is treating us nicely.”
“That’s cool.” Cameron relaxes his wrist against the steering wheel. “And she makes enough to send you to Gregory? Sorry if that question is invasive.”
“It’s a good question, and we don’t. I was rewarded a scholarship by a private party.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Well, that’s mysterious, isn’t it?”
“You’re telling me.” I smirk. “I don’t know who did it, and I’m not sure why. Sometimes I think we were lured here because of who I look like.” I think back to a prior conversation I had with Martin. I know it was him, but why did he choose to do it? It still feels suspicious. I know what he said, but I can’t trust a word from him.
“By someone who wants to solve a decades-old murder? Family?”
“Or her killer?” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I didn’t take it all that seriously until…well, until last night.”
Cameron licks his lips. “Do you think that Maxx’s death is somehow related to all of that?”
I nod. “She was looking into something for me. If she hadn’t hid what she was doing, her killer would’ve gotten it by now. Lucky for me, she hid it well enough.”
“And the police got it?”
“They did, but I have it now,” I admit proudly. “Though, let’s not go into specifics, just in case.”
He lets out a low whistle. “You really don’t mess around.”
I laugh. “I really don’t. But Maxx was killed for helping me. I’m sure of it.”
We fall into a somber silence. I watch the highway zip by. “So what you’re saying is, I’m in danger just by being with you.” He snickers. “I can dig that.”
“You shouldn’t joke,” I grin anyway and turn my head away.
“Who says I’m joking? Besides, if someone is going out there killing people to cover up a crime, we have to do something. Did you think of maybe calling the police?”
“I’m pretty sure he is the police.” As soon as I say the words, it’s like a dark cloud hangs over my head.
“Oh,” Cameron says quietly. “Well, damn. Guess we better find this Cathy Summers. Who did you say she was?”
“Amber’s real mother. And maybe the last person left alive who knows what happened to Amber after she disappeared from the homecoming dance.”
We arrive in Acorn Creek two hours later. The landscape is beautiful as we drive toward the town limits, with gently rolling hills, plenty of lakes for fishing, and hiking trails beckoning in the distance. We stop to gas up at the first gas station we see.
While we’re there, I feel like someone is watching us. Cameron is filling up the car, and I stroll away toward the gas station. There’s a woman standing in the doorway, holding the door open and sipping a slurpy. She’s too young to be Cathy or even know Amber, but the way she stares at me with dead eyes fills me with dread.
We can’t drive away fast enough as we head for the trailer park that the old news articles listed as Cathy’s home. The grass is overgrown, fences are rusted, and I stop into the office trailer where an older woman works the desk. She wears a purple knit sweater over a grungy t-shirt. “Cathy Summers? Sure, I remember her. Seems like a long time ago.” She raises her eyebrows.
“So, she’s not here anymore?”
“Afraid not! She moved out some sixteen years ago. Finally scraped enough money together to move on out. Got a nice single-family ranch. Lived by herself until it happened.”
“What happened?” I ask with a scrunch of my eyebrows.
“Lung cancer. She had it a long time. She passed away a few years after she moved. Damn shame. She lived a hard life. Like most of us do. Though maybe not you.” She glances at the car outside and grunts.
I feel the need to apologize. “Did she leave any family behind? Friends? Anyone I can talk to?”
Her eyes narrow. “She owe your family money or something?”
“No, nothing like that. I just wanted to talk to her. A long time ago, her child went missing…”
“Tessie. Taken right off her yard. You never seen a mother so devastated.” She sighs and pulls a cigarette from her pocket, but she thinks twice about lighting it. Instead, she slips the cigarette onto the counter.
“Did a girl ever come to live with her? Did she remarry?”
“Can’t say any of that happened. I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.�
�� She bristles under my question. Suddenly she’s cool, not as welcoming, and she moves toward the door to see me out.
“You know something. If you could—”
“No! Those were dark times. No one recovers from the loss of a child. Please get out. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go back to wherever you came from and leave us alone.”
To say I’m frustrated would be an understatement. If Cathy died more than a decade ago, her home would’ve been sold, and all her belongings gone. There’s no way for me to track Cathy or anyone who might’ve been her friend. I’m at a loss as to what to do.
Cameron decides we need to eat. I don’t want to, but I follow him into a general store so we can grab drinks and some premade sandwiches. While he picks up a few items in the deli section, I pick up a soda. I bring it to the front desk where a man with graying hair organizes cigarettes behind the counter.
“Can I help you?” He’s wearing a manager pin on his shirt, and when he sees me, he drops a pack of cigarettes he’s holding. He goes ghostly white, and his eyes are fixated on me like I’m a plague—or an angel.
He recognizes me. He knew Amber.
“Excuse me,” he stammers and bends over to pick up the box. “Can I help you with something?”
“You knew her,” I whisper. “You knew Amber.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you’re talking about. If you’ll excuse me,” he walks away quickly, leaving the front counter and heading toward the back.
I can’t let him leave. I chase after him. When he goes into an office and closes the door, I force it open. “How did you know her?” I demand to know.
He startles with wide eyes. The office has a cluttered desk in it and on it, I see a photo. It’s Amber, wearing a red smock. And the banner around it says Employee of the Month. No name is listed, but I’m thrown by how somber Amber looks. There’s no smile on her face. No joy in her eyes.
What happened here?
He follows my gaze to the photo. “I can…explain…”
“You knew her. You still have her photo. Why?” I demand.
He takes a deep breath and flips the photo face down on the desk like somehow that will make a difference. It doesn’t.
“Why!” I demand louder.
“I loved her,” he admits. “I loved her, and I begged her not to go. I wanted her to stay here and build a new life but…she couldn’t stay away. She said there was something she needed to do in Bay Harbor. So, she left. She packed up and left. No matter how much we all begged her to stay.”
“And when she turned up dead? Did you think of going to the police? Letting them know she had been here for months? That she was hiding from someone?”
“I tried. I did. I went to Bay Harbor, and I spoke with the chief of police. I talked to anyone who would listen, but my story never made it into the investigation. Then the calls started.”
“Calls?”
He nods. “Death threats, basically. Letters. Vandalism. Someone didn’t want me to talk, and I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t keep quiet. I felt horrible about it. I wanted nothing more than to protect Amber from that family. I wanted her to marry me and stay here. She was determined.”
“What family?”
“The Sinclairs. She went to meet Jackson Sinclair. I know he killed her. I have no proof, but he had to have done it. He was the only one she got in touch with. She loved him completely, and it got her killed.”
Cameron and I sit on a park bench across the street and eat our sandwiches. I’m quiet. Somber. Rolling all the details around inside my head.
Amber had, at some point, been pregnant, or at least I think so.
She fled to hide with her mother to get away from the Sinclairs.
So why would she go back to see Jackson? What had changed that made her want to piece her old life back together after being away for almost a year?
This guy loved Amber, and maybe he was jealous. I can’t see Jackson killing Amber. I need to find out what happened the night Amber died. If Amber reached out to Jackson to meet, had she called him? Was Jackson surprised to see her? Had it somehow set him off to be left wondering what happened to her the night she disappeared?
“Not exactly the answers you were looking for?” Cameron asks. He rolls up his sandwich wrapper into a ball. “I’m sorry that you weren’t able to get the definite solution you needed.”
I nod. “I didn’t, but it proves Amber was here. Proves she left Bay Harbor, hid here, and returned home. I just wish I knew why.”
Cameron glances at his watch. “If you want to get home by four, we should hit the road soon.”
It’s not what I want, but I feel like I don’t have any choice. As we cross the street, we notice an older man waiting for us by the car. “Stu said you were asking a lot of questions about Tessie.”
Tessie. Hearing her real name is like a punch in the gut. “I was. Did you know her?”
“Know her?” He nods. “I’m her father.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Before I know it, we’re sitting in Brian Summers’ living room. He lives by himself in a small condo overlooking a lake. He makes us tea in the kitchen while we sit on an old brown sofa. Everything in the living room is vintage—to put it nicely—from the bright yellow drapes to the brown shag carpet.
“I never married Cathy,” he says as he places a tray of tea down on the coffee table. “We broke up after our girl was kidnapped when she was three. We didn’t have the money or clout to get national attention. When Tessie was hiding here…no one told me until the very end. The town kept it a secret from even me. They’ll never crack and tell you anything.”
“Why?” I pick up a teacup to be polite. I don’t think I could ingest anything if I tried. I’m a bundle of nerves.
“Small communities like this believe secrets keep them safe. Didn’t work for my girl, Tessie. She broke the rules. She reached out to those who wanted to hurt her, but I don’t think it was Jackson. Stu would. He’s been angry for so many years.”
Brian sighs and sips his tea.
“Who do you think it was?”
“Martin, most likely. He was obsessed with Tessie before she left town. It’s why she wanted to get away. She had some other troubles, too, for sure, but she was terrified Martin would hurt her.”
“Did she go to the police?” Cameron asks.
“No one at Bay Harbor believed her. They thought it was a joke. I think she saw no reason to believe the police would be different. So, she ran. When she went back to see Jackson, I think Martin showed up. I think he took things too far. He’s a smug bastard, even to this day. I see him on the TV.”
“And when her body turned up, did you try talking to the Bay Harbor police? The news?”
“Sure did, but my sentiments were edited to make me sound like a crazy person. Cathy really ripped into me for that. She told me to stay away. Said I was doing more harm than good. She seemed scared. Real scared. I think someone talked to her.”
“What do you mean?” I place my mug down and lean forward.
“She was devastated by Tessie’s loss. Of course, we all were. But she changed soon after. Told me to drop it. Just leave it. Whenever I tried to talk about it, she shot me down. Then she bought that house.” He sighs, a deep laboring sigh.
“You think someone bought her off.”
“Hush money? No doubt. Who it was, I’m not sure. I saw her meeting with someone once. Tall guy, balding, serious, drawn face. I don’t know who sent him, but I’m betting it was Martin. I have no proof, but…” He shrugs. “Not sure it matters anymore.”
“It matters more than you know.”
Brian shrugs. “I lost my baby girl for good the morning she was kidnapped. I wasn’t a great father. Maybe I deserved to lose her. She looked at me like I was a stranger when I saw her. That was most painful—until she died. Then it was like losing her all over again. This time for good. Now, I guess I just try to pretend.”
“Pretend?” I
ask.
“That none of it ever happened. That I never had her to begin with. The Chetwoods put Cathy and me through living hell. You think they ever cared? Tessie didn’t either. Not really. She never would’ve been here if she didn’t need something. She wasn’t connected to me or Cathy. We were strangers.”
He looks more somber than ever with a sadness on his face I’m not capable to even understand. “We would always be strangers, thanks to May Chetwood.”
Cameron is quiet on the drive back. There’s a melancholy vibe hanging between us. Finally, when we’re halfway home, he speaks. “The Sinclairs or the Alistairs, two of the richest families left in Bay Harbor. You really know how to pick them.”
“Sorry,” I cringe. “I’m not sure how to figure out which of them did it. Or if I’m even sure Brian is right. He seemed pretty bitter.”
“He did have a hard hand dealt to him,” Cameron points out. “He lost his kid twice. That can’t be easy to live with.”
I concede with a nod. “I can’t drop it, if that’s what you think I should do.”
“I’m worried you’re going to get hurt.” He throws me a concerned glance. “Really worried. People out there don’t want this to come to light. They’ve already killed at least twice. You’re playing with fire.”
“I have to do this. I can’t stop.”
“Why?” Cameron asks. “Is it really worth risking your life?”
I think it is. “What else can I do? I’ve come so far. I know this thing is within my grasp. I can’t let people forget her.”
“No one is going to forget her, Jess. Tell the police what you’ve found. Turn over any evidence you have. If they have the phone, maybe they can find out more than you can.”
The phone.
How did he know about the phone?
I shudder. “I never told you about the phone.”
“Of course you did. You said Maxx was working on it for you.”