Secrets We Keep

by Angel Lawson

  His apology catches me off guard, so much so that I’m unable to adequately respond. I just jerk my head down the hall and say, “We should probably get down there.”

  He nods and pushes off the wall, keeping up a little better this time. He gets to the office first, opening the door for me. I pass through and he follows, both of us taking a seat on the long row facing Ms. Stewart the administrative assistant's desk.

  We’re barely settled when Mr. Russell walks out of this office and says, “Mr. Holloway, you go to my office. Ms. Keene, the conference room.”

  “Do you mind if I ask what this is about?” Finn asks.

  Mr. Russell frowns, looking genuinely sad. “The police need to ask each of you a few questions. Nothing serious.”

  I bite my tongue before I blurt that there’s no such thing as the police talking to you about something un-serious. Especially in a situation like this.

  “Did something new happen?” I ask, my voice coming out quieter than I mean for it to. “Did they find something—her?”

  “I think the detectives can help answer any questions you may have, Ms. Keene.” He nods toward the conference room. “Go ahead.”

  Finn and I share a look before we part, heading in opposite directions. He looks tired. I feel tired, but that’s overtaken by nerves when I walk through the conference room door and see Chief McMichael and another police officer I’ve never met before. She’s not in a uniform, but a blouse and jacket. Her hair is in a messy bun with strands falling over her ears.

  “Kenley,” the Chief says, “I’m not sure we’ve formally met, although I know my daughter Allison was on the yearbook staff with you two years ago.” He offers me his hand and I shake it. Then he gestures to the woman next to him. “This is Detective Belcher.”

  Her grip is so strong that I’m pretty convinced she yanked my arm out of the socket. I hold back a grimace and sit across from them. Detective Belcher pulls out a notepad and pen.

  “What’s this about?” I blurt, feeling anxious and ready to get it over with. “Is there news about Rose?”

  Chief McMichael says, “Unfortunately, no. You and Rose were close friends at one point, weren’t you?”

  “Before high school, yes. Not so much in the past few years.”

  “You had a falling out?”

  “You could say that, yes.”

  “Anything we should know about?”

  “Not unless you’re interested in the petty drama of fourteen-year-old girls.” That earns a smile from Detective Belcher. She gets it. “Look, whatever went on between me and Rose was old news. We didn’t speak or have anything to do with one another. It was no big deal.”

  “What about your friend Alice Kendrick?”

  I freeze, my stomach turning to lead. “What about Alice?”

  “People are saying she’s made some harsh comments about Rose since she’s been missing.”

  I try to choose my words carefully. “Alice is a loyal friend and yeah, Rose annoys her, but it’s not a big deal.”

  More scribbling on the pad. I knew Alice’s mouth was going to get her in trouble.

  “What can you tell us about the last time you spoke to Rose?”

  “I told you, Rose and I didn’t speak.”

  He nods, glancing at the Detective. “Well, that’s where things get complicated, Kenley. There’s an eyewitness that says a car matching the description of your vehicle, a 2016 Honda Accord, was on the bridge shortly before Rose’s car was discovered.”

  My heart jumps in my throat.

  “That’s not possible. I was at the bonfire. You can ask anyone.”

  “We plan to, but it was also very crowded that night. Are you sure you didn’t sneak off at some point?”

  “What? No.” I can’t believe what they’re asking. “Rose and I weren’t friends. Even if I saw her on the bridge, I would have no reason to stop.”

  Again, the Detective scribbles something in her notepad. I lean forward, and she shifts away. “Kenley, we’re not accusing you of anything. We’re just trying our best to get a good, accurate timeline on what happened that night on the bridge. Are you sure you weren’t there?”

  “Positive. I had to be at the bonfire early to set up the yearbook table. We sell water. Once the bonfire started, I was taking pictures.” I reach under the table for my camera. “They should be time stamped.”

  Chief McMichael takes the camera from me, flipping through the images.

  “Any idea why your car would have been seen on the bridge that night? Does anyone else have access to it?”

  I think back to that night and everything that went on, and it hits me like a ton of bricks. I open my mouth and then snap it shut.

  “Kenley, do you know something that could help us?”

  “I let someone borrow my car that afternoon—to go get ice for the coolers.” I swallow, fidgeting in my seat. “She didn’t get back until right before the bonfire started.”

  I remember her coming in that night, with the bag of ice, already halfway melted, then tucking the key in my back pocket.

  Detective Belcher leans across the table, tucking a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “Who?”

  “Alice.”

  18

  Finn

  Detective Jones meets me at the door and gestures for me to sit. He takes Mr. Russell’s chair, and it’s odd to see someone other than my principal sitting behind the desk.

  “How are you holding up?” the Detective asks. He’s young—maybe mid-twenties. Dark hair and a trimmed beard.

  “Okay, I guess.” Other than the fact my girlfriend of three years has gone missing, I’m strangely focused on the girl next door, and everything in my life feels out of control. “Any news?”

  “The foot search just started. It took about an hour to get everyone trained and sorted into groups. Other than that, not much has changed.” He raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t heard anything from Rose, have you?”

  I shake my head. “No. Nothing.”

  “Tell me again when you spoke to her last?”

  I say what I’d already told police. “We talked the night before the first day of school.”

  “And what did you talk about?”

  “She did most of the talking. What she was going to wear. Who made the cheerleading squad. Stuff like that.” I lean back in my seat. “To be honest, Rose talked a lot, I didn’t always pay attention.”

  He chuckles and makes a few notes in a pad on the desk. “I can imagine. You said she was supposed to pick you up for school?”

  “Yeah, but she didn’t, and she didn’t answer any of my texts. My mom gave me a ride.”

  He nods. “And you never heard from her again.”

  “No, sir.”

  “You guys have dated for what? Three years?”

  “Yeah, almost three. I asked her to the homecoming dance freshman year and we started dating after that.”

  Detective Jones looks impressed. “Sounds serious.”

  “It is, I guess.”

  He flips through the notepad. “Someone reported that they overheard you arguing in front of the house a few weeks ago—what was that all about?”

  I flash back to that argument—one of a few we’d had lately. “Just petty stuff. We were supposed to go out the night before, but she made other plans.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  Good question. That’s what the fight was about.

  “She hung out with her friend, Juliette. A girls' night.”

  “And that made you angry?”

  “I wasn’t angry. Just annoyed that she stood me up.”

  “Did that happen a lot?”

  The room grows warm and I feel very much under a microscope. “Should my parents be here?”

  The detective shrugs. “If you’d feel more comfortable with them here, that’s fine. I just wanted to get a better idea of what was going on the last few days before Rose went missing.”

  His eyes hold mine and I exhale, calming down. “S
he didn’t stand me up much, but over the summer she was busier than normal, and she backed out of plans more often than usual. When I asked her about it, she got defensive. I felt like maybe she was stressed out about something.”

  “You’re seniors. College applications? Maybe another guy?” He raises his eyebrow. “Or a girl?”

  “I don’t know. If I did, I’d tell you. I do think something was distracting her, but whatever it was, she wouldn’t tell me.”

  I wait for more questions, but he flips over the cover of the notebook and puts away his pen. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card with his name and number on it and hands it to me. “Thank you, Finn. If you think of anything that could help us find Rose, please let us know.”

  “I will,” I say, ready to get out of the hot, stuffy room. “And please, let me know if you hear anything.”

  “Don’t worry,” the Detective says with a grim expression, “we will.”

  19

  Kenley

  The intercom flares to life during second period, and Alice is called down to the office. Within the hour, Ozzy follows.

  By lunch, no one is surprised that they finally get around to requesting Ezra, and he lopes out of Biology with the slow gait of someone not in a hurry.

  I avoid the cafeteria and my classmates' questioning stares by ducking into the library instead. Mrs. Roberson, well aware that some students need a safe place to eat, ignores the back corner table during lunch periods. I drop my lunch bag on the table, but I’ve lost my appetite. I do appreciate the sanctuary, and I’m not exactly surprised when Ozzy and Finn show up a few minutes later.

  Ozzy is barely in his seat when he asks what happened during my interview. I tell them both about my car being spotted on the bridge, and how I wasn’t the one driving it. That had been Alice.

  “Well that explains why they asked me if I saw you at the bonfire. They were checking your alibi.”

  “Did they ask you anything else” I ask him.

  “Not really. Just if I knew anything. It’s the first time in three years I’ve been one hundred percent okay with the fact I’m no longer friends with Rose Waller.” He grimaces at Finn. “Sorry.”

  “I get it,” Finn says. He touches the lunch bag. “Are you going to eat this?”

  I roll my eyes. “No. Go ahead.”

  He’s got it unzipped and a sandwich shoved in his mouth in a matter of seconds. Before either of us can ask, he says, “All they wanted to know was about our relationship, and if we’d been getting along. Which we had—sort of.”

  Ozzy raises his eyebrows in question, and Finn shakes his head, just saying, “It’s complicated.”

  That’s probably the perfect way to describe any relationship with Rose Waller.

  Ozzy looks back at me and asks in a low voice, “Do you think Alice would do something to her?”

  “Why? Because she’s made it well known how much she hates her?”

  “Yeah, there’s that.”

  “There’s a lot of resentment, but I can’t see her hurting someone.” But even as I say the words, I’m not sure they sound convincing. “Alice is loyal—to a fault—but she’s definitely more bark than bite.”

  “Any idea what they wanted to talk to Ezra about?” Finn asks, shifting in his seat a little.

  “Nope,” I reply.

  Ozzy adds. “With him, it could be anything.”

  We sit in quasi-comfortable silence, and I can’t help but notice how strange it is that the four of us keep getting tossed together after years of effectively avoiding one another. In some way, I’d always thought Rose was the thing keeping us apart—that the day she betrayed me was the day a divide split us all apart, but now it seems like that’s actually true.

  Except we’re not thrown together because we’re friends, more likely because we’re all suspects.

  It’s not in my plans to confront Alice when I see her, but that’s exactly what happens. She’s digging through her messy locker and before I can think twice, I’m standing by her side.

  “What the hell, Alice? Why didn’t you tell me you saw Rose on the bridge that night?”

  She slams the locker door and faces me. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

  “How could that not be relevant? Forty-five minutes later, she was gone.” I shake my head in frustration. “Why did you stop, anyway?”

  “Because I wanted to talk to her, and it seemed like as good of a time as any.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “No, Ken, what doesn’t make sense is the fact you’re still hung up on a friendship with a mean, petty, rich girl who has made it perfectly clear she doesn’t care about you.”

  I groan. “Not this again. What did you say to her?”

  “I told her to leave you alone. That you didn’t need her toxicity in your life and that she’d done enough damage.”

  “What? Why?”

  Her face clouds, and she lowers her voice. “I saw the two of you talking at the pool last week. Ever since then, you’ve been hyper-focused on her. I refuse to sit by and watch you open yourself up just to get hurt, again.”

  I flash back to that night at the pool, at what Rose said to me. “Alice, I don’t need you to protect me from her.”

  She snorts. “Well, not anymore, anyway.”

  My jaw drops, and I shake my head. “Stop. If you’re going to make jokes like that, stay away from me. It’s not cute. It’s not clever, and it sure as hell isn’t funny.”

  “See?” she says, hurt flickering in her eyes. “You always pick her over me.”

  A tall figure walks up to us and I drag my eyes from Alice to see Coach Chandler. “Girls, whatever this is about, I’m sure it needs to take place after class.”

  Alice smiles at him. “No need. I think we’re done here.”

  She flips her hair and storms off, Coach Chandler and I watching her go. He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “It’s been a hard time for all of us, Kenley. No one is acting the way they should. Just give her a few days to cool off.”

  I look up into his crystal blue eyes, feeling the calm reassurance that makes him so popular. “You’re right. Thank you.”

  He smiles and heads back to his classroom across the hall.

  Alice is right, and so is Coach Chandler. She and I may need to take a break for a few days until everything calms down. Emotions are running high. With everything she’s been saying and hiding, plus the fact she nearly got me in trouble for driving my car, right now may be the perfect time for me to keep my distance from Alice Kendrick. Not just for our friendship, but for my reputation as well.

  20

  Ezra

  “Chief McMichael,” I say, nodding to him as I take a seat at the conference table. I stretch my legs. “You’re looking good. New haircut?”

  The Chief casts me a wary look. “Ezra, this is Detective Belcher.”

  I nod at the young, cute Detective, then flash her a grin. She ignores me and takes the cap off her pen. “In the course of our investigation, it’s come to our attention that—”

  “I was on the bridge with Rose the night she went missing.”

  Chief McMichael shakes his head. “You’re waiting until now to tell us this. Why?”

  “Because I was hoping to stay out of it.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Look, do I need my lawyer?”

  “Did you do anything that makes you think you need a lawyer?” McMichael asks.

  “Nope. Nothing.” I lean over the table, resting my elbows on the surface. “But you and I both know nothing good is going to happen if I call my dad.” Who, of course, is my lawyer. He and the Chief are well acquainted. “But here’s the deal, I’ve got nothing to hide, so, I’ll tell you everything I know, but only if you promise not to call my dad.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a promise we can make, son.”

  “Well, then I’ll go ahead and call him and he’ll have me so lawyered up that it’ll take you weeks to find out what I know.”

  McMichael and
I hold one another’s eyes. This is clearly not our first meet up. He’s been busting my balls for years with locker searches, DUI checkpoints, and hauling me in whenever something in Thistle Cove goes wrong. He’s also been on the other side of my dad’s legendary bulldog tactics.

  “How about this,” he says carefully, “you tell us what you know, and I’ll give you a heads up before we make any calls to your father.”

  It’s probably the best deal I’m going to get. I stretch out and cross my arms over my chest. “Fine.”

  “Why were you out on the bridge that night?” Detective Belcher asks.

  “Rose texted me and asked me to meet her there.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “She was looking for a hookup.”

  “Sex?” Detective Belcher asks.

  “No.” I can’t help but laugh. Rose was hot, but not my type. “Definitely not sex.”

  “Drugs,” McMichael clarifies. It’s not a question.

  “Yeah, we’d had an arrangement for a while—you know, back when I was dealing,” I say, emphasizing that it was in the past. “But I didn’t have anything.”

  “If you didn’t have anything to give her, why’d you meet up?”

  I shrug. The truth is caught somewhere in between. I may still have a few ounces of weed stashed away—primarily for personal use. But that’s not what Rose wanted. She wanted something harder. Something I don’t mess with.

  “Rose and I go way back, meeting up with her before the bonfire wasn’t a big deal. Plus, I knew she’d skipped out on school that day, so I was curious.”

  Belcher nods and takes notes. “Did she say why she skipped school?”

  “No, but we were both in a hurry.”

  McMichael and the detective share a look. “Explain how Rose seemed rushed.”

  “She hopped out of the car before I’d turned off my motorcycle and asked me if I had any product to sell. I told her I’m not into that anymore.”

  “How did she handle that information?”

  “Annoyed. She threw her hands in the air and said, ‘You’re good for one thing, Ezra Baxter, and you can’t even do that.’ Then she called me a pussy.” I glance at the Detective to see if my language affects her. She’s stone cold. Damn.