“We will,” Juniper said at her back. “But I need you to hear this, one time. If I had any idea that he would leave because—”
“What did you think was going to happen?” Ruby spun around. “You called the cops on him.”
“Ruby.”
“The cops. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have total strangers come into your house and ask you the most personal, humiliating questions? Questions about your father touching you, and ‘can you show me where?’ And ‘can you tell me how many times?’ My God, it wasn’t even like that!”
“No, it wasn’t like that.” There was an edge to Juniper’s voice. “It was only bruises in the crook of your arm. Little half-moon imprints on your neck. And then there was the day you came to school covered in bruises, and you told us that story about falling out of the tree in your yard. You said—”
“I must’ve hit every branch on the way down.”
“And people believed you, because hey, Ruby Valentine was always a little bit reckless. Always a little bit feral. It was easy to imagine you, dangling from the topmost branches, trying to brush the moon with your fingertips. When you came to class in sunglasses, and told us you were playing ‘Hollywood starlet,’ it made perfect sense. But my favorite lie”—Juniper huffed, shaking her head—“was when you said you were being intentionally clumsy, so Edward Cullen would swoop in and save you from your own awkwardness.”
Ruby chuckled, her cheeks flushing with heat. She was actually kind of proud of that one. It took a certain flair to keep people distracted, to keep them looking left, so they didn’t realize what was happening right in front of them. It took sparkle and it took sleight of hand, and by the time she was in middle school, Ruby had become a master of illusion, at school and at home. She’d had to, in order to protect her sisters. Her mother. Herself. Every time her father’s gaze had darkened, Ruby had leapt into action, putting on a show. She knew exactly what it took to make him laugh, to make him forget how angry he was.
Most of the time, she was successful.
But once in a while Ruby wasn’t fast enough, and those were the nights she spent cradled in her father’s arms while he sobbed into her hair. He told her that he loved her, and that he was sorry, and that he’d do whatever it took to get help. Because that was what he needed. Help. A loving support system. Not a slew of judgmental strangers interrogating his daughters in separate bedrooms while their mother sobbed in the kitchen.
“Everyone lied to protect him. But after the officers left, he looked so broken. So hurt. We’d spent so much time figuring out how to help him, and it all went out the window, didn’t it? Because the next morning, he was gone, and there was no trace of him. His car was there, but he’d disappeared.”
A soft sound escaped Juniper’s lips. She sounded like someone had taken a bat to her stomach. Reaching into her little sequined purse, she pulled out her character card and handed it to Ruby.
Ruby read it aloud. “My name is the Underwater Acrobat. I’m secretly in love with the Disappearing Act. My weapon is a marker because I ruin lives with labels. My greatest secret is—”
“I wanted him to disappear,” Juniper finished for her. “I thought it was part of the game, you know? Because we were at a murder mystery dinner.”
“But we aren’t, are we?” Ruby’s gaze traveled to the ceiling. To the man so familiar, she still dreamt of him almost every night. “What is the point of this? Why taunt me with the one thing I can’t have?”
“I don’t think that’s what’s happening.” Juniper glanced around the room. “Did you get a present?”
“What?”
“I got a gift. Like a Christmas present, except, you know, from a really twisted Santa Claus.” She circled the bed, tossing stuffed animals aside. Behind the largest one, she discovered a black box with red ribbon.
Ruby’s jaw dropped. “How the flying—”
“Everything is personal,” Juniper said, returning to her side. “And nothing is here by coincidence. Remember when we used to play Bear Hospital?”
“Yeah, because my sisters always destroyed my babies.” Ruby glanced at the bears on the bed. No matter how hard she’d tried to keep a couple of toys for herself, the girls had always managed to find them. And hug them. And pretty much love them to death. “But who would know that? You’re the only person—”
“I don’t know.” Juniper tore at the ribbon. “I don’t know, and it’s freaking me the hell out. We played that game years ago.”
Ruby swallowed as Juniper opened the box. Inside was a single sheet of paper, and Ruby snatched it up, reading over the contents. “No, this is impossible.”
“What is it?”
Ruby held out the paper with a shaking hand. The name JAMES VALENTINE was typed across the top, and below that, there was a list of information. Aliases, last known locations. According to the printout, Ruby’s father had recently been spotted one county over, but all the crucial information had been blacked out. At the bottom of the page, someone had written, Hand over your weapon, and I’ll make all your dreams come true.
Ruby turned to the box. There was nothing inside. Less than nothing, actually, because the box had been hollowed out in a very specific shape.
The shape of a revolver.
“Ruby?” Juniper whispered, scanning the room. Her gaze landed at the foot of the bed, where Ruby had dropped her purse. “What did the Ringmaster ask you to bring to the party?”
“I think you know.” Ruby inched toward the foot of the bed.
Juniper followed. “And you brought a toy, right? Tell me you brought a toy.”
“I . . .” Ruby dove for the purse. Juniper did, too, but Ruby got there first. “I wanted it to be realistic. The letter said authenticity was import—”
“Ruby!”
“I thought we were going to a party! A murder mystery dinner. And God, Juniper, it’s not like I’d bring a loaded gun into a party with Parker Addison. What if he got his hands on it?”
“I don’t even want to think about that. I just want to grab Gavin and get out of here. Do you think he’s really passed out?”
“Passed out from what? He didn’t drink anything! He lifted his glass to his lips, and then took a tumble.” Ruby shook her head, hugging her purse to her chest. “He’s probably sitting downstairs, wondering what the hell’s taking us so long.”
“Let’s check on him, and then we’ll come back for the guys.”
“The guys are right next door! And if we brought weapons, I think it’s safe to assume—”
“They brought weapons too.” Juniper’s gaze drifted to the door. “They could arm this stalker with a knife or—”
“A rope,” Ruby said, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “But we have a revolver, and as far as anyone knows . . .” She paused, lips twisting into a grin. “This baby is loaded.”
9.
HOPELESS ROMANTIC
Parker coiled the rope around his hand and tucked it neatly into the box. Perfect fit, he thought, before yanking the rope back out. Now, where to hide it? He shoved it under the mattress of the four-poster bed. Throwing himself onto the black satin sheets, he rolled around on his back, trying to feel for the rope. He could distinctly feel a lump under his right hip.
Nope, that wouldn’t do. Parker lifted the mattress and pulled out the rope. Carefully, he scanned the room. A gilded mirror hung opposite the bed, something an evil queen might look into and proclaim herself the fairest of them all. But he couldn’t secure the rope behind the mirror without risk of it falling down. There were no dressers in this room, no shelves. It was perfectly, elegantly simple. A bed with a mahogany frame. A little bedside table, with a bouquet of roses—
The bedside table, of course! Parker slid the rope into the tiny drawer, tucking it way up in the back. Then he fussed in front of the mirror for a minute, messing up his hair. His heart was racing. It had been a long time since he’d been alone in a bedroom with the love of his life. When the knock came at the d
oor, he was sitting on the bed, toying with a rose.
“Parker? Park?” The voice was soft and sweet. Ruby Valentine. My Ruby, he thought, clearing his throat.
“Come in.”
“No, you need to come out.” This time, the voice was harsh and grating. Juniper Torres. Of course. Parker had left those girls alone for ten minutes, and already they were teaming up. Conspiring to keep Ruby away from him. He rose from the bed. He had to be delicate here. One wrong move, and Juniper would poison Ruby against him for good.
Opening the door a crack, he stuck his head outside. “Rubes,” he said in a tentative voice. “I need to tell you something.”
Ruby leaned in close, just like he knew she would. And before she could change her mind, Parker grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room. Closing the door, he turned the lock, keeping Juniper out.
“What the hell?” Ruby demanded, while Juniper pounded on the door. “You think you can grab me and—”
“Ruby, there’s something weird going on here.” Parker leaned against the door, letting his hair fall into his eyes. He knew how much Ruby loved it when his hair was a little messy. She used to trail her fingers along the edge of his face, tucking strands behind his ear.
Now she just stared at it, making no move to touch him. “I know something is wrong,” she said, glancing at the door. “That’s why we wanted to talk to you. This Ringmaster person is—”
“A stalker! You wouldn’t believe what he tried to pull with me. He actually thought I would trade . . .” Parker shook his head, lifting several sheets of paper from the bed.
Ruby took the pages, scanning them in silence. “How the hell did you get these?”
“The Ringmaster gave them to me. I found them in a box.”
“Parker, this is everything I’ve done in the past three months. My acceptance letter from Juilliard, the apartment I tracked down in the city. The lead on a job in a bookstore. Only the addresses are blacked out.” Her hands shook as she read over the pages again. “Why do you have this?”
“So I can follow you.”
Ruby’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowed in fury. “Excuse me?”
“No, you don’t understand.” He reached for her arm, but she pulled away. “I would never do that. I’m not going to stalk you. That’s just what the Ringmaster thinks I want.”
“Why?” She sat down on the bed, wiggling a little in her sparkly red dress. Parker was glad he hadn’t hidden the rope under the mattress.
“Because I love you,” he said, kneeling in front of her. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted, and when I lost you, it made me crazy.”
Ruby snorted. “No shit, Park.”
“I . . .” He swallowed, lowering his head. This time, when his hair fell into his eyes, he saw her fingers twitch. “I know I made mistakes. Big ones. But this . . .” He gestured to the pages still clutched in her hand. “I would never resort to this. Following you to New York? Staking out your apartment? Hell no.”
Ruby watched him carefully, her breath coming out sharp and fast. “You want to know what’s messed up? I don’t even know if I believe you. Part of me thinks you would follow me to New York, stake out my favorite café, and pretend to run into me. You haven’t exactly given me cause to believe otherwise.”
“I know, but look.” Parker plucked a box from the mess of pillows on his bed. “I was supposed to leave a weapon in this box in exchange for the information that’s blacked out. A rope.”
“And you didn’t do it?” Ruby asked, picking up the box and searching it herself. “You’re keeping the rope?”
“I left it in my car.” Parker reached for his duffel bag, opening it to show there was nothing inside. “I was going to bring it in, but at the last minute, I got the creepiest feeling, like I shouldn’t.”
“Then why bring the bag?”
“To create the illusion that I was playing along. Plus . . .” He lifted a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the bed. “I brought a change of clothes. You know I hate these things.” He tugged at his collar, loosened his tie. He could see his reflection in the mirror, and in the dimness of the chandelier, the dark green suit looked black. “I look like a corpse.”
Ruby laughed, and Parker saw a hint of her former sweetness. That girl was still in there; he just had to draw her out. “You do kind of look like you’re dressed for your own funeral.” She frowned, and her eyes clouded over. “That’s why we need to get out of here. Everything about this is creepy, and now that we know we’re being messed with—”
“We can’t leave! We need to track this stalker down and kick some ass.”
Ruby tilted her head. “Kick the ass of a stalker? That’s brilliant. Did Brett come up with that?”
Parker scowled, glancing at the wall next to him. For the bulk of their conversation, Brett’s room had been quiet, but now it sounded like somebody was moving furniture in there. “I don’t think we’re dealing with a stranger,” he said. “I think someone from school is messing with us. Honestly, if Gavin wasn’t playing dead downstairs, I’d say it was him.”
Ruby bit her lip, looking toward Parker’s door and the hallway beyond. “We should check on him.”
“Yeah, to make sure he’s not laughing behind our backs.”
“Parker,” she started, but didn’t finish. Something about his suggestion seemed to bother her. “You know, it is a common trick in horror movies to have the killer pretend to be dead.”
“We’ll check on him together,” Parker said, leading her across the room. When he reached the door, he turned to face her. Their bodies were practically touching. “Rubes, I want you to know something. If this party turns out to be more than some twisted game . . . if it turns dangerous, I will do everything in my power to protect you. I’ll throw myself in front of a bullet to keep you safe.”
Ruby looked up, her eyes bright with the spark of tears. He knew, in that moment, that she was his. As she brushed the hair from his eyes, she smiled softly, as if remembering how good it felt to be close to him. “I really hope you mean that,” she said.
10.
MOMMY DEAREST
Brett couldn’t stop shaking. Sitting on the edge of the bed, head between his knees, he took great, heaving breaths, trying to calm himself. But the pictures on the wall taunted him.
You can have everything you want, they whispered. You just have to play the game.
Problem was, Brett didn’t know what game they were playing. He’d suspected, in the depths of his subconscious, that the scholarship offer had been too good to be true. But like the rest of his classmates, he’d been desperate enough to attend the party anyway.
What did he have to lose?
Now, tearing a photograph from the wall, he knew the answer to that question. The image was bittersweet, enchanting and taunting at the same time. He wanted to cradle it. He wanted to rip it to shreds. In the end, he let it flutter from his hands, the way everything did.
Happiness. Power. His mother.
Brett looked up. Where had the thought come from? He hadn’t thought of his mother in a very long time. But here, in this slate-gray room, with bars on the windows and the harbinger of death lingering at his back, he found himself struggling to remember the last time he’d actually been happy.
And there she was. Bright-eyed and beautiful and wearing a string of pearls. Taking her baby’s face in her hands. Fawn Carmichael was the most affectionate person Brett had ever known, the exact opposite of his father.
No wonder she’d had to go.
Brett had been seven years old when it happened, and he remembered every detail of the dinner party. His father was a heavyweight champion. Or rather, he used to be a heavyweight champion, but after a series of wins in his youth, he’d gone on to suffer loss after humiliating loss. Now he was close to declaring bankruptcy. But if he could gain the sponsorship of one of the local business chains, he could make a dazzling comeback, and he wouldn’t have to retire in shame.
And so, he threw
a party. He decked out the Carmichael estate (which the bank was close to repossessing), and invited two dozen businessmen to spend an evening with his family. All Brett had to do was play the part of the perfect son. The fierce little boy who would follow in his father’s footsteps.
A fighter, just like his daddy.
Getting ready in his parents’ bedroom, Brett was trembling with nerves. “What if they don’t like me?” he asked as his mother straightened his tie.
“Are you kidding?” She brushed the curls from his eyes. Those curls were chestnut brown, like hers before she dyed them. Everything about her was a little enhanced, but no matter how much work was done, her eyes remained as bright as a deer’s. She was a domesticated animal, and that was something Brett understood, even at seven years old.
They were one and the same.
“They’re going to love you,” she promised, holding out her hand. “And it’s only a couple of hours. We’ll do our little dance for daddy’s friends, and then we can dance for real when they’re gone. All right?”
Brett took his mother’s hand.
After that, they were partners in crime, putting on a show for the masses. Brett traded jabs with his father, ducking at all the right moments. Meanwhile, his mother stood perfectly still, like the statuary in the entryway to the house. Silent and poised.
Practically porcelain.
All she wanted to do was go out to the balcony and dance. Brett knew it. She used to be a ballerina, a real-life replica of the girl in her music box. Later that night, after everyone had gone home, she would lead Brett back to the second floor dining hall, pull him through a pair of french doors, and twirl with him on the balcony. Their house had been built onto a hill. With the city spread out beneath them, and the stars twinkling above, Mrs. Carmichael wouldn’t seem like a caged animal anymore.
She’d be free.
She’d be happy, instead of a frozen, fairy-tale statue of herself. A nodding, doting wife. Two hours into the party, Brett knew her limbs were itching to move. She kept shifting from foot to foot, her ballerina’s feet stuffed into high-heeled shoes.
This Lie Will Kill You Page 6