Adult Nick, against everyone’s expectations, did not follow in his father’s footsteps into the lumber business. Instead, he took over his mother’s gift shop which he ran with his pretty, docile wife, at least until their famously contentious divorce. There were rumors of domestic abuse and affairs. The ex-wife got the house, the kids and a whole bunch of money. Nick got the boutique and a crappy apartment next to the bowling alley.
Of course Nick was the top suspect in Eve’s death at first, but he was cleared pretty early on in the investigation. One of his friends vouched for his whereabouts and there wasn’t any physical evidence to link him to the crime. The only reason I want to talk to Nick is because Charlotte and Nola Knox were convinced that Nick was Eve’s killer and made his life a living hell for a long time. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He did. Just not for Eve’s death.
I drive to Juniper Street. Grotto Gifts & Things is still the upscale, expensive tourist trap it’s always been except that it could use a fresh coat of paint and a good scrubbing. Ever since Nick’s wife made an exit, the shop has taken on a neglected, forlorn air. Much like Nick himself.
I see a few of my brother’s smaller art pieces for sale in the display window. Metal sculptures twisted and welded into whimsical shapes. Colin is a very talented artist, I have to give him that. Beyond the sculptures, I see that the shop is empty except for Nick who is sitting behind the counter and staring down at his phone. A bell jingles as I come through the door. The air smells like a cinnamon-scented candle and fast-food French fries. Nick doesn’t bother to look up. So much for service with a smile.
“Hey, Nick,” I say. “How’s it going?” Nick takes his time responding to me. He slides one finger across his phone a few more times before looking up.
“Living the dream,” he says, finally setting his phone aside. Panting, he heaves himself up from his stool. His once handsome face is now fleshy and formless and his girth spills over his belt. He breathes heavily at the exertion of getting to his feet. “How about you, Maggie? You look like you’re about to pop.”
“Not just yet,” I say. “Listen, I’m not sure if you heard, but...”
“Yeah, I know. Everyone knows. You’re looking into Eve’s murder again,” he says in a bored tone that infuriates me. He was supposed to love Eve and now he can’t even be bothered. He’s pissing me off. “This means Nola Knox is going to go on a frickin’ rant about me again.” Nick shakes his head. “That bitch,” he says. “She better not come anywhere near me. I swear to God I’ll claim Stand Your Ground if I have to.”
“Geez, don’t say stuff like that, Nick,” I say. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to. Besides, that’s not a law here.”
Nick comes out from behind the counter and peers out the window as if expecting to see Nola standing outside with a baseball bat. “Can you blame me?” he asks, looking back at me.
I can’t, but I don’t say anything. In the corner of the store is a wall of merchandise expressly for babies. I walk over and run my fingers over a toppled pile of onesies with Gotta Grotto across the front. What does that even mean? I want to ask but instead I begin to refold them into a neat stack.
“No offense, but what makes you think you can solve it now?” Nick asks. “It’s been twenty-five years. What’s an old boot going to prove?”
I give him a stiff smile but don’t answer. “I’m reviewing all the files, reinterviewing witnesses. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” With hotheads like Nick Brady, it’s always good to make them think they’ve got a choice.
“You?” Nick laughed. “You’re investigating? Isn’t that a little weird? You were best friends.”
“It is upsetting,” I say. “I loved Eve like a sister. I feel like I owe it to her, don’t you?” I’m laying it on a little thick. It’s much more effective to get a guy like Nick to think he is doing you a favor. That you hate to inconvenience him, but his thoughts and insights are imperative, crucial to the investigation.
Nick puffs out his already massive chest. “Yeah, I guess so. What do you want to know?”
“Just the basics.” I pull out my notepad and a pen. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Eve?”
Nick shrugs. “No. I mean, everyone liked Eve. Hell, I loved her. I always thought we would get married.” These were the words I found in the file, almost verbatim to what Nick said twenty-five years ago.
“That’s funny,” I say, tapping my pen against my front teeth.
“What?” Nick asks.
“That’s not the vibe I got from Eve.”
“What do you mean?” he asks. A flush begins to creep up his wide neck.
“You guys only dated for a short time,” I remind him. “A few months, right? Eve never said anything about you guys talking about marriage. She always said she was moving away after graduation and going to college.”
“We dated for eight months and would still be together if she hadn’t died,” he says. I wonder what Nick’s kids and ex-wife would think of this speculation.
The only thing Eve told me was that she broke up with Nick, told me he didn’t handle it well.
“I know there were rumors that Eve broke up with me,” Nick says heading off my next question. “But they weren’t true. We loved each other. I bought her a promise ring. I was going to give it to her for Christmas that year. Her mom told me that Eve bought me a present too. She found it in Eve’s room. A video game. She gave it to me at the funeral.”
I stare him straight in the eye. “Eve told me she broke up with you. It wasn’t a rumor.” I had said some mean things to Eve the morning she told me about the breakup. I felt bad the second the words came out of my mouth. I never told her I was sorry. I could have though. If only I would have apologized maybe the day wouldn’t have ended the way it did.
“That was her mom, not Eve,” Nick contests. “She loved me.” By the look on his face I can tell Nick really believes this to be true.
“Uh-huh,” I say noncommittally. “And you were where on the afternoon of December twenty-second?”
“I was with Jamie Hutchcraft and then I was here at the shop with my mom until about ten. I was at home the rest of the night.”
“Where is Jamie these days?” I ask.
Nick squirmed. “I don’t know, we lost touch. Why?” I let the question hang there, let him think that I’m searching for Jamie to once again confirm the alibi.
Nick rubs his elbow and he catches me watching. “Still aches sometimes,” he says, rolling up his shirtsleeve to show me the scars. “Twenty-five stitches because of Nola, that crazy bitch.”
“Just stay away from trophy cases and large windows and you’ll be fine,” I joke. Nick doesn’t think I’m funny.
“I’m serious,” Nick says, pulling down his sleeve with a snap. “It took an hour for them to get all the glass out. You’re going to make sure she stays far away from me, aren’t you?”
Nick has a point. A week after Eve’s funeral, Nola, who stopped at the high school to pick up Eve’s things, shoved Nick into a glass trophy case. She overheard him describing in minute detail to a group of friends how sad it was that Eve was dead because she gave the best blow jobs.
“Nola isn’t going to bother you. But if she does,” I hand him one of my business cards, “just call me.”
He looks at my belly. “You’re going to stop her?” he asks. What a sexist pig.
“Maybe,” I say.
“Wait, did your dad ever look into that guy Eve used to babysit for?” Nick asks. I freeze, pen in midair.
“What guy?” I ask.
Nick looks up at the ceiling trying to retrieve the name. “Harper, I think. I don’t know for sure.”
“Cam Harper?” I ask. “The man who lived next door?” I was not expecting this name to pop up. Not now. Not ever.
“Yeah,” Nick says. “Eve mentioned once th
at he kind of creeped her out and on the day she died I saw them together. He was holding her hand.”
I give my head a little shake as dread spreads through my body. “Why would Cam Harper be holding hands with Eve?” I ask.
“I figure she would have told you,” he says. “I thought the two of you talked about everything.” I respond with a noncommittal grunt. “I called him out on it. Told him to stay away from my girlfriend. He just blathered on that I had gotten it wrong.”
“Maybe you did,” I offer, still thrown by this revelation. Cam Harper and Eve holding hands? “When did this happen?” I ask.
“In the morning, on the way to school. It was weird.” Nick drums his fingers on the counter. He’s getting restless.
“And you told the police this?”
“Yeah.” Nick shrugs. “At least I’m pretty sure. Your dad must have made note of it somewhere.”
“I thought Dex Stroope interviewed you,” I said, “but you talked to my dad?”
“Yep, just once. I did talk to the new chief when he was working for the sheriff’s department. Three or four times. I’ve got to say, it made me really nervous. He was awful to me. Treated me like a criminal.”
That didn’t really sound like Chief Digby. From what I could tell, he was the epitome of decorum and respect when it came to suspects. That didn’t mean he was soft—he would never have made chief. He just played good cop really well.
I remember my dad saying that Nick was cleared and that he hoped people would stop dragging his name through the mud. “Well, he was just doing his job,” I say. “What else can you tell me about Cam Harper?”
“Nothing really. Just that Eve was ready to quit babysitting for them. Said that Harper made her real uncomfortable but it was the only way she had to make money so she kept doing it.”
“And you told my dad this?” I ask again. Nick nods. “But not Stroope or Digby?”
“No, by that time I was the main suspect,” Nick says. “Besides, I had a lawyer and she wasn’t letting me say much.”
“Will you let me know if you think of anything else?” I ask him. “Even the smallest detail?”
“Sure,” Nick says, walking me past displays of rustic pottery and hand-poured candles to the door. “I miss her too,” he calls as I push through the door. I almost believe him.
I turn back to him. “How’d you find out?” I ask. “About Eve?”
“My mom woke me up and told me the next morning,” Nick says, his forehead furrowing at the memory. “It was awful. I really don’t need this, Maggie. I was cleared twenty-five years ago and now you’re telling me that I might have to go through all of this again. Eve’s mom told everyone who would listen that I killed her and Nola is just freakin’ nuts. Things finally died down and now they are going to be all over me again. It’s going to be a shit show.”
“I have no intention of letting this become a shit show, Nick,” I assure him, “but I have to do my job.”
“Then check out Cam Harper,” Nick insists.
“I will,” I say. “But do me a favor, Nick. Don’t say anything about Cam Harper to anyone. I don’t want him to get wind that I’ll be talking to him. Sometimes it’s better when they don’t see you coming, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, sure. Just keep Nola Knox out of my face, okay?”
I try not to roll my eyes. “You’ve got my card.”
Either Nick is lying about Cam Harper to deflect any suspicion or my dad didn’t think it was important enough to note. The third option is more disconcerting. Was my dad’s memory failing way back then? I do this a lot—scan my brain for any evidence, any precursors that might have warned us of what was to come.
As I leave Nick’s shop and step back into the heat of the day, I think of the night that Nola and I found Eve and banged on Vivian Benson’s door for help. My dad came to take us to the police station to be questioned. I sat in a chair in a conference room, shivering despite the blanket that Mrs. Benson had wrapped around me. I want to go home, I told him. I don’t feel good, I cried. I can’t stop seeing her face.
You can’t leave just yet, honey, he said. We’ve got to find out what happened to Eve and we need your help. He kissed my cheek. I love you, he whispered. It’s going to be okay.
But it wasn’t okay. My stomach twisted and cramped and a wave of nausea rolled over me. I rushed to the bathroom, and when I emerged, my dad laid a cool hand against my forehead.
She’s feverish, he told the sheriff. She needs to go home and go to bed. You can ask her more questions tomorrow.
They finally let us go home and as I leapt from the car I was aware of Cam Harper’s eyes following me on my way to the house. I passed my pale, wide-eyed brother and ran up the steps to the bathroom where I slammed and locked the door as a new round of sobs coursed through my body. I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot spray of water pound over me. I scrubbed at my face with a washcloth, trying to scour away Eve’s cracked skull and blood-matted hair from behind my eyes.
As I drive away from Nick’s shop I think about what he said about Cam Harper. Could it be true? Could Cam have gone after Eve? For a long time, I thought I was the only one. Stupid, naïve, I know. I was just too caught up in my own melodrama to pay attention to what was going on around me.
As much as I don’t want to, I’m going to have to visit the Harpers and I’m going to have to talk to Cam Harper. The last thing I want is for anyone to find out about my relationship with my neighbor. Not relationship, I chide myself. It wasn’t my fault. I was fifteen. I was a child. And though I thought I was in love with him, it wasn’t a relationship. It was manipulative, sick and against the law. As much as I tell myself this, I still haven’t come forward and told my story. I’ve never even told Shaun.
From afar, I’ve kept my eye on Cam Harper. I know men like this don’t stop. I’ve watched his comings and goings to see if he has targeted another young girl. So far, I’ve come up with nothing but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. Predators like Cam work hard not to get caught.
EVE KNOX
Friday, December 22, 1995
12:30 a.m.
Eve quietly slid her house key into the lock and slowly opened the door. More than anything she was mad at herself. Why did she get into the car with Nick? She thought the hardest part was behind her, breaking things off, but then she went and climbed right back into the car with him.
They ended up parking below the bluffs at the bottom of a dead-end street that led to the caves. Not the caves that all the tourists went to in the summer, the ones with guides and a gift shop, but the forgotten ones just below their neighborhood. This time Nick had been gentle, the earlier anger and fervor melting into soft touches and kisses. In those minutes she loved him again. Why? How did he do this to her? Why did she keep going back for more?
The living room was dark except for the glow of her mother’s cigarette. Eve unwound her scarf from her neck, pulled off her coat and hung them both on the hook next to the door.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” her mother asked. Her voice was thick. She’d been crying.
“I’m sorry,” Eve said softly. She was aware of Nick’s odor emanating from her skin and hoped the scent of cigarettes would keep her mother from noticing. “We lost track of time.”
“I bet you did,” her mother said, a slyness in her tone that Eve hated. Eve didn’t respond. “I almost called the police. I work sixty hours a week to make sure you have food and clothes and heat.” Her mother shifted in her seat, the burning ember from the cigarette moving jerkily through the air. “The least you can do is respect my rules. I’m tired. I shouldn’t have to wait up for you.”
Eve knew she was right. She knew how much her mother tried. She was a single mother who worked hard and was even harder on herself. Nothing was easy for Charlotte Knox. Because of this Eve did her b
est to make things painless for her mom. She helped out at home keeping things neat and tidy. She tried to keep her grades up which was challenging because she was no Nola. Eve stayed out of trouble and, most important, she tried to keep Nola out of trouble. Not easy because not only was Nola scary smart, she was also always getting into trouble for fighting or lying or stealing.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Eve said again, meaning it. Eve wanted to tell her that she had broken up with Nick or at least tried to. Maybe then her mother would understand. Eve thought that maybe saying the words out loud would make them true. Final. But Eve couldn’t quite do it. Her mother would probably be angrier with her for breaking up with Nick than for being late.
“You’re grounded,” her mother said flatly. “For a week. School and home, that’s it.”
“But it’s winter break,” Eve protested. “What am I supposed to do all week?”
“Not my problem. You’re grounded,” Charlotte said, a rare finality in her voice.
“But that’s not fair,” Eve said, her voice rising. “I’m never late. It was just this one time.”
“Too bad,” her mother said, extinguishing the cigarette and flipping on a table lamp. She was curled up into a corner of the sofa still wearing her work uniform. The ashtray on the side table was overflowing. “You should have thought of that before. You need to start thinking of other people once in a while.”
Eve emitted an involuntary huff of air. What a joke, she thought. Her mother did work hard but in all other aspects Eve played the role of the adult. Eve was supposed to be the child, the moody teenager. Instead she got a mother who worked all the time tethering Eve with an evil genius little sister who creeped everyone out.
“You think it’s funny?” her mother asked, getting to her feet. “Know what? Make it two weeks. You think it’s so easy doing what I do? You can be in charge for a while. Home and school. That’s it.”
“What else is new,” Eve muttered. She shouldn’t have to worry about these kinds of things. She had her own problems.
This Is How I Lied Page 4