Keeping the Beat

by Marie Powell

  “What do you mean?” Toni demanded. “Those bloody cameras are everywhere.”

  “And they were off last night,” Jason said, dragging a hand through his hair. “Someone disconnected them from the wireless network at 9:14 p.m. After that we’ve got nothing.”

  “Tomas wouldn’t have known how to do that,” Lucy said. “Robyn might have shown him the blind spots, but he wouldn’t have been able to turn off the cameras.”

  “We don’t know how to turn off the cameras,” Iza pointed out.

  A flash of the look on Harper’s face that afternoon when she’d rushed into the ER filled Lucy’s mind. She’d been distraught. That had been clear. And she’d just got out of a car with Rafe.

  A horrible thought shoved its way into Lucy’s brain.

  “I wonder if Rafe knows how,” Lucy said.

  Toni’s jaw dropped a little.

  Iza shook her head hard. “No way,” she said. “Rafe is a jerk, but he wouldn’t hurt Harper.”

  “Rafe?” Detective Hernandez asked.

  “Rafe Jackson,” Lucy said. “He and Harper … they used to date. They were … Well, something happened between them yesterday. Something that upset them both. She wouldn’t tell me what.”

  “Rafe Jackson, as in son of Sir Peter Hanswell, lead singer of Winding Road and head of Catch-22?” Detective Hernandez asked, looking up at Jason for confirmation.

  “That’s him,” Jason said grimly. “I don’t know if Rafe would have been able to turn off the cameras, but it’s possible. He and his girlfriend, Skye Owen, have been interning for me this summer. They know a lot about the mechanics of the show.”

  “Rafe and Harper had a …” Lucy hesitated. She needed the detectives to know the truth but it still felt wrong, sharing Harper’s secrets. “Harper was still in love with him. They were together before he left for college. She wanted him back. I think he may have still loved her as well. They were alone together driving to the hospital this afternoon, and afterward Harper seemed shaken.”

  “Interesting.” Detective Hernandez kept his expression carefully neutral, but his partner was scribbling notes furiously. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ve got to make some calls.”

  Jason nodded as the detectives crossed out of the living room.

  Lucy dragged in a shaky breath. Iza and Toni and Lucy hadn’t let go of each other since their SUV had rolled up to the house in the dawn hours to the spinning red stain of police lights that painted the whole neighborhood.

  “I’ve got to call my grandmother again,” Toni said. “She made me promise to check in every hour.”

  Toni didn’t even pretend to complain about her grandmother’s fussing. Lucy knew why. She could do with a bit of fussing herself, at the moment, but oddly, somehow, she also knew that she would be okay without it.

  “Lucy!”

  Alexander was striding into the house.

  And her parents were right behind him.

  “Mum?” she said, half wondering if she was hallucinating. “What are you doing here?”

  “Alexander called us,” Mum said, cautiously. As though she was afraid the wrong word would cause Lucy to crumble.

  “How? I mean, we didn’t know Harper was …” Lucy just couldn’t say it.

  “He called us days ago, long before any of this happened, sweetheart,” Dad said, taking a step toward Lucy. “He called us when he discovered that we hadn’t come to the finale. He told us that he’d have plane tickets waiting for us at Heathrow, and we’d regret it more than we knew if we didn’t use them.”

  “Of course, neither of us knew how much. If we hadn’t come … if you’d been dealing with this alone, half a world away …” Mum shook her head. “I’d never have forgiven myself.”

  She stepped closer, coming almost close enough to touch Lucy, and then hesitating, as though she was afraid Lucy would push her away. “We should have … We shouldn’t have let you go this long on your own. And your beautiful letter. We should have rung you then. We should have come to the show. We watched it, you know. Well, Emily turned it up so loud we didn’t have much choice, but oh, Lucy … You were brilliant.”

  Mum was afraid, Lucy realized. And Dad was doing that same fidgeting thing that her brother, John, always did when he was nervous. They were afraid that Lucy wouldn’t forgive them. Just as afraid as Lucy had been that they’d never forgive her.

  She felt like she’d never seen her parents before. They were suddenly so … not parent-like. She didn’t know why she was surprised. They were human beings, too, after all. It only made sense that they would be pretty much like all the other people she knew.

  “Mum is right, Lucy,” Dad said. “I still think we were right to want you to focus on your studies, but we should have listened to you when you tried so hard to tell us how much you wanted to do this. We should have talked about it, instead of just making a decision.” He reached out and took Lucy’s hand. “Most of all, we should have watched you play. You’re spectacular, sweetheart. You really are.”

  “I’m so sorry, my darling,” Mum said. “I’m so sorry it turned out this way. But we are so proud of you.”

  Then she threw her arms around Lucy and pulled her close.

  Lucy let her head rest on her mum’s shoulder. They were exactly the same height now. It was disconcerting, leaning down to her mother’s shoulder, instead of being pulled upward into her mother’s embrace as she had been when she was small. But realizing that she wasn’t that little girl anymore felt okay, like it was the real proof that she was the person she felt like she’d become this summer.

  Wasn’t that odd?

  Harper would get it, Lucy thought. Harper would understand exactly what Lucy meant when she told her that it was only now, while getting a hug from her mum, that Lucy finally knew she’d grown up.

  But Harper wouldn’t understand, because Lucy would never be able to tell her — because Harper was dead.

  That was when Lucy finally began to cry.

  BONUS TRACK: Begin at the End

  It had been Mum’s suggestion for the girls to change out of their black clothes.

  “Harper was too young and too lively for all this dreariness,” Mum had said, shaking her head at the three downcast girls she was trying to coax some toast and coffee into before they set out for Harper’s funeral. “A change of costume is in order, I think.”

  Dad had agreed.

  Lucy was glad to ditch the stiff black dress and the dreadful black tights that had made her legs feel like chunks of wood.

  Thankfully, Toni had thought to call Robyn to let her know, since she was coming from the rehab center that her parents had helped her check into a few days after Harper died. She arrived at the cemetery looking like a spring day in a yellow dress with big green hoop earrings. Iza was wearing the shocking-pink mini with narrow stripes that Harper had always said made her look like a French starlet in a 1960s film. Toni sported a tomato-red sheath dress and oversized sunglasses, which made her look every inch the Hollywood bombshell.

  Harper would have loved it.

  She would have hated Lucy showing up to her funeral in purple Converses, Lucy thought, studying the way the bright high-tops contrasted the rich green of the grass beneath her feet. But she would have loved arguing with Lucy about it all day until Lucy finally gave up and admitted that the sparkly neon pink pumps that Harper would have wanted her to wear went much better with her short black and white polka-dot dress and three-quarter-length leggings. Then Harper would have laughed, looked at Lucy in the purple high-tops and said, “Oh whatever. The sneakers are more Lucy. Stick with those.”

  Lucy could hear the conversation quite clearly, just as though Harper were still there, hiding somewhere inside Lucy’s head where no one else could hear her.

  Just as Mum had said she would be.

  Lucy had been trying and failing to sleep
when her mum had slipped into her room in the hotel suite that Catch-22 had moved the girls and Lucy’s parents to the night after Harper died. Mum hadn’t said anything. She’d just crawled into Lucy’s bed and they’d lain there together, staring at the ceiling for a long, long time. Then, just as Lucy had begun to drift off, Mum had whispered, “She’ll always be with you, you know. Harper scared us with her recklessness, but she truly loved you, I think. And she made you who you are, in a lot of ways. Now you’ll take everything you learned from her and live a life you can both be proud of.”

  And now, here Lucy was, watching two strange men in dark overalls pour dirt over a box that held her best friend’s body and she could still hear Harper’s voice. Just as if Harper were standing right beside her.

  Harper would have loved the day. She would have loved the brilliant LA sunshine and the photographers capturing the moment for the newspapers. How she would have adored the idea of making the headlines. She’d have loved how the girls were making people whisper with their bright outfits glowing among the dreary black of the other mourners.

  “Lucy?” Skye had come to stand next to her at the graveside.

  Skye looked different. Older, Lucy thought, but not in a bad way. Confident. Grown up. Harper might have resented the fact that Skye Owen had come to her funeral, but Lucy was beginning to think they’d deeply misjudged Skye. In fact, Lucy was sure that Harper would have liked her eventually. If she’d had the chance.

  But she never would. Not now.

  “Hello, Skye,” Lucy said. “How are you?”

  “I’m all right,” Skye said. “Better now that Cesar is off the feeding tube. They’re still not sure if he’ll walk again, but there’s no brain damage other than the short-term memory loss … He’ll probably never remember getting hit, but the doctors say that’s normal, with this kind of accident.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Lucy said. “I mean, I’m so glad to hear he’ll recover, but it’s awful to think of him stuck in a wheelchair.”

  “He’s alive,” Skye said, a familiar gleam of determination in her eyes. “And I’m going to help him learn to walk again. I don’t care what the doctors say.”

  Lucy believed she’d do it, too. Skye Owen could do anything she put her mind to, Lucy thought. She was like Harper in that way.

  “That’s good,” Lucy said. “Whether he can walk or not, at least you’ll be together. I know how much he means to you.”

  “I know you do,” Skye said. “Until recently, you were one of the only people who did. Thank you, Lucy.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Lucy said. “You’re the one who stood up to your mum.”

  Skye smiled wryly. “I should have done it a long time ago. I made a lot of decisions that day, Lucy. The day Cesar nearly died. One of them was that I don’t want to be in the movie business. I don’t think I ever did. I’m switching to a new major in the fall,” she added. “Pre-med, so I can apply to medical school when I graduate.”

  Lucy thought about Skye helping Robyn on the beach. She’d stayed calm as she checked the unconscious girl’s pulse and airways, and kept her breathing while they waited for the ambulance. She’d probably saved Robyn’s life.

  “That’s great, Skye,” Lucy said. “I think you’ll be an amazing doctor.”

  “Me, too,” Skye said. “My mother hates it though.”

  “She’ll come round,” Lucy replied. “Parents don’t always know what the right thing is. They’re only guessing, just like the rest of us.”

  “And …” Skye cleared her throat. Then cleared it again. She was nervous, Lucy realized. “I was wondering … I mean, you don’t have to, but I was wondering … Can you do us a favor? Me and C?”

  “Of course,” Lucy said. “Anything. I mean, I’m driving to the airport with my mum and dad to go back to London since the tour has been canceled. But if there’s anything I can do before we leave, I’d be happy —”

  Skye thrust a tiny blue hard drive into Lucy’s hand.

  “Just read that, and if you like it, give it to Alexander. Or Jason or … or someone else you trust.”

  “Is this Cesar’s screenplay?” Lucy asked, stunned.

  “Yeah,” Skye said. “You said you wanted to read it, and now that I’ve thoroughly pissed off my mother, anyone else who might help us isn’t going to take my calls and —”

  “Of course,” Lucy said. “But don’t you want to —”

  Skye shook her head. “I don’t want my mom and her cronies turning a profit on Cesar’s talent. Not after the way she treated him. But I want Cesar to have his dream. Will you help?”

  “Lucy!” Toni called. She stood in a cluster with Lucy’s parents, Iza and Luke, and Robyn and her family. “We’ve got to go. We’ll miss the plane!”

  “Coming,” Lucy called.

  Then she turned back to Skye. “I’ll read it, and I’ll make sure Jason and Alexander do, too. I’ll help any way I can.”

  “Thank you,” Skye said. “I really … Thank you, Lucy. And not just for this, I mean …” She held out her hand to Lucy in a businesslike fashion. “Goodbye, Lucy.”

  Impulsively, Lucy reached out and pulled Skye into a hug.

  “Goodbye, Skye.”

  Lucy looked up the sloped path that led toward the cemetery parking lot. Her parents were speaking to Alexander now. Luke and Iza had drawn themselves away from the others. Saying goodbye, Lucy thought. Poor things. At least it was temporary. Luke already had tickets to visit London in a month’s time and, in less than a year, Iza hoped to be joining him at the University of Southern California.

  Lucy really ought to go up there. Toni was right. It was time to go. Past time. But there was one last thing that Lucy needed to do. Instead of walking toward the cars, she turned and marched across the emerald grass toward Rafe Jackson, who stood rigid beside his father, just as he had throughout the service. To judge from Rafe’s posture, it looked like Sir Peter might actually be secretly holding his son at gunpoint to keep him there.

  “Rafe?” Lucy said.

  “Hello, Lucy.” It was Sir Peter who answered.

  “Hello, Sir Peter,” Lucy said. “I need a moment with Rafe, if you don’t mind?”

  “Of course,” Sir Peter said, looking from Lucy to his son with a curious expression on his face. Then he turned to the Catch-22 executive he’d been chatting to.

  “Shall we, Jack? I’ll be at the car when you’re finished, Rafe.”

  Lucy steeled herself as Sir Peter walked away. She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to tell Rafe Jackson, but she was absolutely sure she couldn’t just let him walk away and get on with his life, as though Harper had never existed.

  As soon as Sir Peter was out of earshot, Rafe hissed, “What do you want, Lucy?”

  His blank, distant expression had morphed into a hard-edged glare full of something … Not the anger she’d expected, though. No, it wasn’t anger. It was fear. Rafe Jackson was afraid of her. Now why would that be?

  “Don’t worry, Rafe,” Lucy said. “I only want to tell you something.”

  “Get on with it then,” Rafe snapped.

  “Just this,” Lucy said. “I don’t know what happened to Harper, but I’m going to find out. The police might think that Tomas’s supplier shot her when he was trying to get back his gear, but I don’t think you believe that any more than I do.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Rafe said. “She was messing about with drug dealers; it’s hardly a stretch to think they killed her for it.”

  He looked down at the grave for the first time.

  “If she’d just trusted me, this might not have happened,” he said, bitterly.

  Did he actually still resent Harper not letting him take Tomas’s stash the night of the benefit? wondered Lucy. Surely not. Not even Rafe Jackson was that shallow. But then what was he talking about? What hadn’t Harper trusted hi
m with?

  “Rafe,” Lucy said, letting the acidic anger that had been eating away at her for days pour into her voice. “The house cameras were disconnected from the network before the killer entered the house. How could drug dealers know how to do that?”

  Rafe’s mouth opened, as though to speak. Then he closed it again. Then opened it. He looked like a not-especially-bright goldfish, Lucy thought absently. But more importantly, she’d clearly been right. Rafe Jackson did know something about Harper’s death. Something he hadn’t told the police.

  “Something was wrong, Rafe,” Lucy said. “The day Harper died. And it wasn’t just Tomas and his drugs. Something was wrong and whatever it was cost my best friend her life.”

  “Whatever, Lucy,” Rafe said, his voice dropping into a quavering whine. “I don’t know why you’re making me talk about this. Not now. I loved Harper, you know. I don’t need to imagine all the horrid things that might’ve happened to her.”

  “I don’t know if you loved Harper or not,” Lucy said, “but I do know this: I will find out what happened to her, Rafe. And I’ll make sure that everyone else does, too. I just thought you should know.”

  Lucy turned to walk away from him but he reached out and grabbed her arm, hard.

  “Lucy,” he said, sharply now. “Listen to me, you —”

  “Rafe.” A deeper voice cut through Rafe’s panicked one. “I think your father was looking for you.”

  Rafe didn’t let go of Lucy’s arm as they both looked up to find Alexander walking toward them.

  “I suggest you go find him,” Alexander added. “Now.”

  “Goodbye for now, Rafe,” Lucy said, trying to keep her own voice calm.

  With a final dagger-sharp glare, Rafe dropped her arm and walked away.

  “That boy is going to be trouble,” Alexander observed. “I love Pete, but he didn’t raise that child right.”

  Lucy wanted to tell Alexander exactly how much trouble Rafe had already been, but she wasn’t sure how far to go. Sir Peter and Alexander were old friends, after all. Did he really want to know exactly how bad an apple Rafe Jackson really was?