by Tara Brown
“Yeah! That's it!” She rolled her eyes. “Ugliest fashion show I ever went to. Rachel did have truly horrible taste when left to her own devices. Thank God for her mother.” She chuckled and went back to organizing the patio heaters. “She actually went through the bag Rachel brought back from New York and told her what she was allowed to wear and what she wasn’t.”
Sierra gave me a look and I nodded back. Apparently, neither of us had ever noticed that side of Rachel, even after all those years. But she had been comfortable to show it to Rita on their first meeting? That was bizarre.
I hoped Sierra was starting to realize we needed to get into Rachel’s room. If the dress was a prêt-à-porter that was one thing, but haute couture meant it was likely one of a kind until the sale of the line. Only I had seen a second dress at Rachel’s party. Being in the same dress as someone else was something Rachel wouldn't have stood for, not the Rachel who cared what she wore. The hipster version of Rachel was a beast I didn't know. Which also made me wonder what else I didn't know. Her room had to have answers.
I placed a large bouquet of flowers on the appetizer table and turned, greeted by Andrew Henning walking through the French doors from the games room. He looked the same as he had before his dad died, not even a little drawn or tired. He looked normal. I didn't expect that. I assumed there would be a trace of the death in his eyes.
“Hey.” I offered a weak smile, trying so very hard not to treat him differently.
“Hey.” He smiled back wider, much wider. His soft-brown eyes were clear and his face was tanned like he’d been boating or something. Even his brunet hair seemed lighter. Had they gone on vacation?
“How are you?” I didn't mean to say it, but I couldn't stop myself.
Humor filled his eyes. “Good, Lain. It’s still me. I’m good. I promise.” He chuckled and walked past me, shaking his head and patting me on the arm like he pitied me instead.
It was officially the most awkward moment I had lived through. Even more than admitting my feelings for Ashton to Vincent. Even more than the bra fitting my mom had made me endure where I was pretty much molested by an evil French woman while she and Mommy Dearest mocked my posture and lack of self-esteem. Well, maybe not that awkward.
Jake strolled out of Rita’s house, grinning at me. His eyes always slipped to my chest, always. Like he knew the secret of the tensor bandage, or he just truly enjoyed seeing bound breasts. “Hey, Lain.” His smooth way of talking and sly grin never made me uncomfortable, but to me he was just like Vincent, a player with a plan. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I turned and looked at Andrew who was chatting up the other two. “How is he fine already?”
“Drugs probably.” He offered a chuckle. “I heard Sage and Linds had to go to the police station.” He lowered his voice and leaned against the table next to me. “What’s up with that?”
“Some new questions about something. I don't know.”
His dark-blue eyes narrowed. “You’re lying, Lainey.”
“What? No, I’m not. Sierra’s dad wouldn't tell us anything.”
He leaned in, staring into my glasses. “You are. Whenever you lie you furrow your eyebrows and wrinkle your forehead. It’s the best tell. Not as bad as Sierra’s dad with the eye twitching. Or Linds with the whole high-pitched voice. But yours is just as obvious. What happened?”
How the hell was Jake clever enough to see all of that? I shook my head, not wanting to lie again. “Nothing.”
“Do you guys know something about Rachel’s death?”
That, I didn't have to lie about. “No. We honestly weren’t there.”
“You can tell me.” He didn't buy it. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“I know you won’t.” I smiled softly. “And I don't want you being dragged into something you can’t fix. The less you know the better. Rachel’s death is a total mystery to me, I swear.”
He rolled his eyes. “If you need help, let me know.”
I pressed my lips together, forcing myself not to say anything else. I needed to work on the fact my forehead wrinkled when I lied. No wonder Jake always cleaned up in poker. Even with my memory he beat me, which was essentially impossible since I could count cards like a junkie in Vegas.
His eyes darkened as he lowered his heavy brow over them. “If you need help finding Ash, seriously, let me come with you.”
“What?” The word slipped out, along with the forehead wrinkle I actually felt.
He grinned with one side of his mouth only. “I know how you feel about him. If the shoe were on the other foot, he’d be crazy looking for you too. If you get an idea and you want to go look, I’m your guy.” He slapped me lightly on the bare arm, like we were pals, but my heart was racing and my mouth was dry. “Don't go alone, it’s not safe. Promise me, okay?”
“I won’t.”
Did everyone know about my love for Ashton?
Oh my God.
Wait!
Why would Ashton be searching high and low for me if the shoe were on the other foot?
I pushed the panic inside me away and nodded, pressing my mouth together again.
Jake winked and strolled over to where Sierra was, really working his charming swagger. “Hey, ladies. Need any heavy lifting done?”
Andrew was already making Rita laugh as he sucked in the helium from a balloon and said something in a squeaky voice. She giggled and swatted him in the chest.
Sierra sauntered over to Jake, tilting her head to the right and laying on the leering and grinning. Whatever she said made him take a step back. He shook his head and glanced back at me, smiling.
I ignored them all, stuck on one thought. Had he been tormenting me by telling me that about Ashton, or was there something I didn't know about the way Ashton felt about me?
My heart was lodged somewhere in my throat, pulsating there. I felt sick as I slinked back into the house.
“Lain.”
I spun, seeing Lindsey. Her face was streaked from dried tears, not fresh ones but there had been plenty of them at some point to color her face. Her mascara stains were heavy.
“How’s it going? What did they know? What did they say? Did they ask about the blood?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don't know.”
“We need to start taking this seriously, as a group. We need to solve this. We’re going to be framed for this. They’re probably bringing us in two at a time and hoping our stories don't match.”
“I see that now.” She sniffled and nodded. “Where should we start?”
“Can you come to Rachel’s with me?” I asked softly.
Lindsey narrowed her gaze and nodded. “If we go at 6:00 no one will be there. All the staff except the cook is retiring for the day after that.” Of course she knew that. “Or we could go Monday when everyone is in school.”
I wasn't sure if she was avoiding the conversation or not, but I asked again, “What did the police say?”
“You were right. They found DNA at the scene that doesn't match Rachel’s. They said they called Sage in to ask her about her brother. But then they started asking about other things, like the bruising on her face the day after the party. She said they had a photo of the bruise.” Her eyes filled with fear. “They asked me about our story again; said they wanted another chance to see if I’d recalled anything else. And they wanted me to look at some photos of the hipster, Skip. I said I didn't recognize anyone. I don't think they invited us down there for any of that though. I think Sage and I just became suspects along with Ashton.”
Our day had started out so calm. In fact, our month had been calm. Eerily calm. And now the first day of school had come in like a lion. I suspected the lamb had been slaughtered somewhere along the way, and we would find its remains when we were meant to.
“Did they ask you guys for blood samples?”
She shook her head. “No. Mr. Casey said they would have to get warrants for that, which would be very hard since there’s no evidence linki
ng us to the scene.”
I bit my lip, finally admitting to myself my fear of them being considered suspects, and with them, we would be dragged in too. “I think we all just got put on the suspect list. If we are each other’s alibis, they must think it’s all of us.”
“Clearly, the killer isn’t going to kill us. He just wants to frame us for the murder and ruin us.” Her eyes watered, making the dark blue in them shine like the midnight sky. Lindsey’s fingers trembled as she tucked her short chestnut hair behind her ears. Her logic was sound.
“What did Sierra’s dad say?”
“He said he would keep us safe and fight anything they tried.” She wrapped her arms around herself, looking weak and frightened. It was alarming to see someone so strong and bold be shaken. She looked the way she had when her mom died.
My eyes darted across the massive games room to where Vincent stood in the doorway. He looked like a storm was brewing inside him. His perfect features were stone-like, firm and sharp. When his green eyes met mine I flinched. “Where’s Sage?” I asked.
Lindsey sniffled. “With her mom and Tom. He’s leaving on a business trip.” She made finger quotations for business trip. “He got pissed at the station and said he wished Sage had been taken instead of Ash. He said Ash would at least have stayed out of this shitstorm.”
I closed my eyes, sighing. “He’s such a douche.”
“Such.”
“He’s right about this being a shitstorm though.” I opened my eyes and turned back to the party set up. “We need to tell those two.” I looked back at Vincent. “Can you get rid of the guys for a few minutes?”
He shook his head. “We should all know what’s going on now.”
“No.” I stood my ground. “We need to keep the story about the party as in check as we can. If we drag them in, the killer might start framing them too.”
He looked like he was about to argue, but he didn't. He pushed off of the wall and stalked across the room, brushing past me as he walked out onto the deck. His voice was different the moment he spoke—commanding but happy, “Let’s go take a walk down to the beach.” I turned and watched as he pulled a joint from his back pocket. Jake and Andrew followed him like he was a pied piper for underachievers.
Sierra started to walk with them, but I called her, “Stay. We need your opinion on something very serious.”
She and Rita both looked curious and disappointed as they walked over to where we were.
“I could go for a toke, so whatever this is—”
“Do you think you could make it in prison?” I asked boldly for impact and to shut Rita up.
She snapped her mouth shut as her gray eyes widened when she saw the state of Lindsey’s face.
“What?” Sierra stopped walking. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re all suspects,” Lindsey added. “The police found our blood at the scene. They don't know it’s ours yet, but their reasons for bringing us in were pretty pathetic. The story of the drunken forest expedition didn't go well. Sage and I were split up and then questioned. She doesn't think she did very well. I know I didn't. I got confused a lot. I tried saying we’d had some to drink, but then who drove home? I got confused.”
It dawned on me that Sierra lied like a pro, Rita was drugged, and I knew too many facts and didn't get confused. Lindsey was the weakest link, technically. She was a terrible liar. Sage was drugged, but her brother was missing.
It was possible the police just wanted to see the two of them because they were hoping for more answers. Maybe our guilty consciences made us link the DNA and the summons to the police station. Maybe the two aspects weren’t connected at all.
Sierra and Rita both looked apprehensively at Lindsey’s puffy face.
“Are you for real?”
“Yeah.” She gave a grave look to Sierra. “They think we did it. Even your dad thinks so.”
Sierra swallowed hard. “Fu—”
“Stop!” I scowled. “We need to think about how to solve this so the police know it wasn't us but without endangering ourselves with the killer.” A soft sigh slipped from my lips as I processed. “Rachel got that dress from New York when she was shopping with you, Rita. She never told us she was going to the city to see you. She kept that detail of being friends with you a secret. How long were you friends, and why didn't she tell us?”
Rita shrugged. “I don't know. I never knew it was a secret. I thought we were put on playdates, if I’m totally honest. Her mom and my mine organized it. I met her for brunch and then we went to the show. It was supposed to be indie designers with a boho feel to them.” She gave Lindsey a look. “Something you’d wear.”
Lindsey rolled her puffy eyes.
“Anyway, it was really shabby chic, and I didn't like it. I was polite and nice. The silver dress was the only one that was something special in the entire collection. After the day of shopping and that lame fashion show, her mom went through her bag of clothes, taking away anything she didn't consider nice enough.” Rita wrinkled her nose.
“She did this in front of you?” Lindsey asked, looking bewildered.
“Yeah. They left after that. Rachel seemed pissed. She texted me a few times after that, and we hung out when her parents brought her to the city to see my parents. When I moved here, she was up my ass from the moment I arrived. She was demanding, we did all the things she wanted to do, and my mom made me hang with her.”
“Rachel wanted to keep you to herself until she knew you would be cool.” Sierra rolled her eyes. “She always did that with new friends. In case you were a freak. Then she could say she didn't know you, even though secretly I had seen her hang with pretty dodgy people.”
“Nice.” Rita was clearly offended. “She really was a piece of work.”
“Anyway.” You could tell Sierra didn't appreciate that comment. “The dress should have been an early release for Rach. If she got it from the designer, and he wanted her to strut it around at some point this summer, advertising for him, then there shouldn't have been a second dress.”
“Right.” Rita nodded.
“And yet, you saw a girl in the exact dress?”
I shrugged. “Identical.”
Rita cocked her head to the side. “I don't get eidetic memories, but what if you just didn't see it clear enough and it was a little different?”
A smile crept across Sierra’s lips. “It doesn't work like that. Her brain is like a camera hooked up to a computer. One thing triggers it and bam!—she recalls all the details.”
“She’s never wrong,” Lindsey added.
I blushed and lowered my gaze. “Not yet.”
“So the designer made a second dress. He gave it to the girl who tried to drug you and did drug me. Which means the designer is in on this, or he is an asshole who sets up girls to be wearing the same dress.”
“Risky move for a new designer.” Sierra shook her head. “I suspect he was paid an enormous amount of money to duplicate the dress, which he will say was stolen. There’s no way it got worn to the same party coincidentally.”
“Who else knew you went to the show?” Lindsey was starting to sound like her old self again.
“Our moms,” Rita added defensively. She didn't love Lindsey and her snooping, that much was obvious.
I contemplated it all. “Everything is leading us back to Rach. We need to get into her room.”
“Not tonight. I have the party, and we have like an hour before people start showing up and I’m not even dressed yet,” Rita demanded.
“Fine. We’ll go Monday when everyone else is in school or at work. I have a free period in the morning, and Lain, you can skip.”
I wanted to argue with Lindsey but there was no point. It was the second day of school, not exactly crucial for attendance. I just hated starting off with bad behavior.
Chapter Six
Koo-koo-ka-choo, Mrs. Robinson
Sierra jumped into the pool, cannonballing everyone but the screams were lost in the sound of the music
and shouting kids.
Vincent handed me the flask he had brought. I lifted my Sprite and coconut water. “I’m good.”
“Want to go to Rachel’s?” he whispered, not looking at me. “Snoop around with me?”
“What about Linds?” I still couldn't believe she was drunk. She never got drunk before this summer, unless it involved her own pool and a good book, but now it was something she was doing increasingly.
“She’s going home to bed. We can drop her off and then head for Rachel’s.” He turned and gave me a look. “What do you think we’ll find there?”
“Letters from the killer. I think Rachel was getting them. I wonder if she was forced to buy that dress and give it to Sierra? Was she being told what to do? Like blackmail. As well, I’m curious to know what the killer had on her and where we all fit into the story.”
“That is an interesting theory.” He stood and took another small drink from his flask. “Let me collect my girlfriend, and we can go explore it. Don't tell anyone where we’re going. You take the beach and meet me at the car.” He walked into the madness that only we were not enjoying.
“Did he just say meet him on the beach? He just wants to screw you.” Sage flopped into the seat next to me. “He is working his way through our circle. And you’re next.”
If I didn't love the girl like a sister I might have punched her in the throat. I was getting bloody tired of her antics. “No, he wants Ashton to come home as badly as I do.”
Her bright eyes watered as she leaned in and whispered, “He might be the killer, Lain. We have to think about that. I mean, I don't think he is. But there’s a chance. He left and nothing else has happened.” Her eyes were filled with fear. At first I thought she was talking about Vincent, but then I realized she meant her brother.
“Sage, I used to think Sierra was the dumb one. She’s always flipping her hair and saying weird things that don't match the moment we are in. But this whole thing has shown me she’s not.” The venom in my voice was heavily laid at her feet.
She blinked, too drunk to understand what I was saying.
“Vincent and I are going to find your brother and bring him home. And we’re going to prove he isn’t the killer.” My blood was boiling. I never said mean things, ever. I hated the memory of them. But I was tired of my friends not taking this seriously.