Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
To Adam and Danielle
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing is lonely work, but no writer truly labors alone. I’m lucky to have had the help and support of Linda Marrow and Gina Centrello at Ballantine Books, Meg Ruley, Jane Berkey, Don Cleary and the superb team at the Jane Rotrosen Agency, Selina Walker at Transworld, and—most important of all—my husband Jacob. Warmest thanks to you all!
PROLOGUE
THAT BOY WAS WATCHING her again.
Fourteen-year-old Alice Rose tried to focus on the ten exam questions on her desk, but her mind was not on freshman English; it was on Elijah. She could feel the boy’s gaze, like a beam aimed at her face, could feel its heat on her cheek, and knew she was blushing.
Concentrate, Alice!
The next question on the test was smudged from the mimeograph machine, and she had to squint to make out the words.
Charles Dickens often chooses names that match his characters’ traits. Give some examples and describe why the names fit those particular characters.
Alice chewed her pencil, trying to dredge up an answer. But she couldn’t think while he was sitting at the next desk, so close that she could inhale his scent of pine soap and wood smoke. Manly smells. Dickens, Dickens, who cared about Charles Dickens and Nicholas Nickleby and boring freshman English when gorgeous Elijah Lank was looking at her? Oh my, he was so handsome, with his black hair and blue eyes. Tony Curtis eyes. The very first time she’d ever seen Elijah, that’s what she’d thought: that he looked exactly like Tony Curtis, whose beautiful face beamed from the pages of her favorite magazines, Modern Screen and Photoplay.
She bent her head forward, and as her hair fell across her face, she cast a furtive glance sideways through the curtain of blond strands. Felt her heart leap when she confirmed that he was, indeed, looking at her, and not in that disdainful way that all the other boys in school did, those mean boys who made her feel slow and dim-witted. Whose ridiculing whispers were always just out of earshot, too soft for her to make out their words. She knew the whispers were about her, because they were always looking at her as they did it. Those were the same boys who’d taped the photo of a cow to her locker, who mooed if she accidentally brushed against them in the hallway. But Elijah—he was looking at her in a different way altogether. With smoldering eyes. Movie star eyes.
Slowly she raised her head and stared back, not through a protective veil of hair this time, but with frank acknowledgment of his gaze. His test paper was already completed and turned facedown, his pencil put away in his desk. His full attention was focused on her, and she could scarcely breathe under the spell of his gaze.
He likes me. I know it. He likes me.
Her hand lifted to her throat, to the top button of her blouse. Her fingers brushed across her skin, leaving a trail of heat. She thought of Tony Curtis’s molten gaze on Lana Turner, a look that could make a girl go tongue-tied and wobble-kneed. The look that came just before the inevitable kiss. That’s when the movies always went out of focus. Why did that have to happen? Why did it always go fuzzy, just at the moment when you most wanted to see …
“Time’s up, class! Please turn in your test papers.”
Alice’s attention snapped back to her desk, to the mimeographed test paper, half the questions still unanswered. Oh, no. Where had the time gone? She knew these answers. She just needed a few more minutes …
“Alice. Alice!”
She looked up and saw Mrs. Meriweather’s hand held out.
“Didn’t you hear me? Time to turn in your test.”
“But I—”
“No excuses. You’ve got to start listening, Alice.” Mrs. Meriweather snatched up Alice’s exam and moved on down the aisle. Though Alice could barely hear their murmurs, she knew the girls right behind her were gossiping about her. She turned and saw their heads bent together, their hands shielding their mouths, muffling giggles. Alice can read lips, so don’t let her see we’re talking about her.
Now some of the boys were laughing, too, pointing at her. What was so funny?
Alice glanced down. To her horror she saw that the top button had fallen off her blouse, which was now gaping open.
The school bell rang, announcing dismissal.
Alice snatched up her book bag and hugged it to her chest as she fled the classroom. She didn’t dare look anyone in the eye, just kept walking, head down, tears building in her throat. She dashed into the restroom and locked herself in a stall. As other girls came in and stood laughing, primping in front of the mirrors, Alice hid behind the latched door. She could smell all their different perfumes, could feel the whoosh of air each time the door swung open. Those golden girls, with their brand-new sweater sets. They never lost buttons; they never came to school wearing hand-me-down skirts and shoes with cardboard soles.
Go away. Everyone please just go away.
The door finally stopped whooshing open.
Pressed up against the stall door, Alice strained to hear if anyone was still in the room. Peeking out through the crack, she saw no one standing in front of the mirror. Only then did she creep out of the bathroom.
The hallway was deserted as well, everyone gone for the day. There was no one to torment her. She walked, shoulders hunched self-protectively, down the long corridor with its battered lockers and wall posters announcing the Halloween dance in two weeks. A dance she would certainly not be going to. The humiliation of last week’s dance still stung, and would probably always sting. The two hours of standing alone against the wall, waiting, hoping a boy would ask her onto the floor. When a boy had at last approached her, it was not to dance. Instead he’d suddenly doubled over and thrown up on her shoes. No more dances for her. She’d been in this town only two months, and already she wished her mother would pack them up and move them again, take them someplace where they could start over. Where things would finally be different.
Only, they never are.
She walked out the school’s front entrance, into the autumn sunshine. Bending over her bicycle, she was so intent on opening the lock that she didn’t hear the footsteps. Only as his shadow fell across her face did she realize Elijah was standing beside her.
“Hello, Alice.”
She jerked to her feet, sending her bike crashing onto its side. Oh god, she was an idiot. How could she be so clumsy?
“That was a hard exam, wasn’t it?” He spoke slowly, distinctly. That was one more thing she liked about Elijah; unlike the other kids, his voice was always clear, never muddled. And he always let her see his lips. He knows my secret, she thought. Yet he still wants to be my friend.
“So did you finish all the questions?” he asked.
She bent down to pick up her bike. “I knew the answers. I just needed more time.” As she straightened, she saw that his gaze had dropped to her blouse. To the gap left by the missing button. Flushing, she crossed her arms.
“I’ve got a safety pin,” he said.
“What?”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a pin. “I’m always losing buttons myself. It’s kind of embarrassing. Here, let me fasten it for you.”
She held her breath as he reached for her blouse. She could barely suppress her trembling as he slipped his finger beneath the fabric to close the pin. Does he feel my heart pounding? she wondered. Does he know I’m dizzy from his touch?
When he stepped back, her breath flew out. She looked down and saw that the gap
was now modestly pinned shut.
“Better?” he asked.
“Oh. Yes!” She paused to compose herself. Said, with queenly dignity: “Thank you, Elijah. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
A moment passed. Crows cawed, and the autumn leaves were like bright flames engulfing the branches above.
“You think you could help me with something, Alice?” he asked.
“With what?”
Oh, stupid, stupid answer. You should just have said yes! Yes, I’ll do anything for you, Elijah Lank.
“I’ve got this project I’m doing for biology. I need a partner to help me with it, and I don’t know who else to ask.”
“What kind of project is it?”
“I’ll show you. We’ve got to go up by my house.”
His house. She’d never been to a boy’s house.
She nodded. “Let me drop my books off at home.”
He pulled his bike from the rack. It was almost as battered as hers, the fenders going rusty, the vinyl peeling off the seat. That old bike made her like him even more. We’re a real pair, she thought. Tony Curtis and me.
They rode to her house first. She didn’t invite him in; she was too embarrassed to let him see the shabby furniture, the paint peeling off the walls. She just ran inside, dumped her book bag on the kitchen table, and ran out.
Unfortunately, her brother’s dog, Buddy, did as well. Just as she came out the front door, he scampered out in a blur of black and white.
“Buddy!” she yelled. “You come back here!”
“He doesn’t listen very well, does he?” said Elijah.
“Because he’s a stupid dog. Buddy!”
The mutt glanced back, tail wagging, then trotted off down the road.
“Oh, never mind,” she said. “He’ll come home when he’s ready.” She climbed onto her bike. “So where do you live?”
“Up on Skyline Road. You ever been up there?”
“No.”
“It’s kind of a long ride up the hill. Think you can make it?”
She nodded. I can do anything for you.
They pedaled away from her house. She hoped that he’d turn onto Main Street, past the malt shop where the kids always hung out after school playing the jukebox and sipping their sodas. They’ll see us go riding by together, she thought, and wouldn’t that set the girls’ tongues wagging? There goes Alice and Elijah-with-the-blue-eyes.
But he didn’t lead her down Main Street. Instead, he turned up Locust Lane, where there were hardly any houses, just the backside of a few businesses and the employee parking lot for the Neptune’s Bounty Cannery. Oh, well. She was riding with him, wasn’t she? Close enough behind him to watch his thighs pumping, his rear end perched on the seat.
He glanced back at her, and his black hair danced in the wind. “You doing okay, Alice?”
“I’m fine.” Though the truth was, she was getting out of breath because they had left the village and were starting to climb up the mountain. Elijah must ride his bike up Skyline every day, so he was used to it; he seemed hardly winded, his legs moving like powerful pistons. But she was panting, pushing herself onward. A flash of fur caught her eye. She glanced sideways and saw that Buddy had followed them. He looked tired too, his tongue hanging way out as he ran to keep up.
“Go home!”
“What did you say?” Elijah glanced back.
“It’s that stupid dog again,” she panted. “He won’t stop following us. He’s gonna—gonna get lost.”
She glared at Buddy, but he just kept trotting along beside her in his cheerful dumb dog way. Well, go ahead, she thought. Tucker yourself out. I don’t care.
They kept moving up the mountain, the road winding in gentle switchbacks. Through the trees she caught occasional glimpses of Fox Harbor far below, the water like battered copper in the afternoon sunlight. Then the trees became too thick, and she could see only the forest, clothed in brilliant reds and oranges. The leaf-strewn road curved ahead of them.
When at last Elijah pedaled to a stop, Alice’s legs were so tired she could barely stand without trembling. Buddy was nowhere in sight; she only hoped he could find his own way home, because she sure wasn’t going to go looking for him. Not now, not with Elijah standing here, smiling at her, his eyes glittering. He leaned his bike up against a tree and hoisted his book bag over his shoulder.
“So where’s your house?” she asked.
“It’s that driveway there.” He pointed down the road, to a mailbox rusting on a post.
“Aren’t we going to your house?”
“Naw, my cousin’s home sick today. She was throwing up all night, so let’s not go in the house. Anyway, my project’s out here, in the woods. Leave your bike. We’re gonna have to walk.”
She propped her bike up next to his and followed him, her legs still wobbly from the ride up the mountain. They tramped into woods. The trees were dense here, the ground thickly carpeted by leaves. Gamely she followed him, waving at mosquitoes. “So your cousin lives with you?” she asked.
“Yeah, she came to stay with us last year. I guess it’s permanent now. Got nowhere else to go.”
“Your parents don’t mind?”
“It’s just my dad. My mom’s dead.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say about that. Finally murmured a simple “I’m sorry,” but he didn’t seem to hear her.
The undergrowth became thicker, and brambles scratched her bare legs. She had trouble keeping up with him. He was pulling ahead of her, leaving her with her skirt snagged on blackberry canes.
“Elijah!”
He didn’t answer. He just kept moving ahead like a bold explorer, his book bag slung over his shoulder.
“Wait!”
“Do you want to see this or don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
”Then come on.” His voice had taken on an impatient edge and it startled her. He stood a few yards ahead, looking back at her, and she noticed that his hands were clenched into fists.
“Okay,” she said meekly. “I’m coming.”
A few yards farther, the woods suddenly opened up into a clearing. She saw an old stone foundation, all that remained of a long-gone farmhouse. Elijah glanced back at her, his face dappled by afternoon light.
“It’s right here,” he said.
“What is?”
He bent down and pulled aside two wooden boards, revealing a deep hole. “Take a look in there,” he said. “I spent three weeks digging that.”
Slowly she approached the pit and stared inside. The afternoon light was slanting low behind the trees, and the bottom of the hole was in shadow. She could make out a layer of dead leaves, which had accumulated at the bottom. A rope was curled over the side.
“Is this to trap a bear, or something?”
“It could. If I laid some branches over it, to hide the opening, I could catch a lot of things. Even a deer.” He pointed into the hole. “Look, you see it?”
She leaned in closer. Something gleamed faintly in the shadows below; chips of white that peeked out from beneath the scattering of leaves.
“What is it?”
“That’s my project.” He reached for the rope and pulled.
At the bottom of the pit, leaves rustled, boiled up. Alice stared as the rope went taut, as Elijah hauled up something from the shadows. A basket. He pulled it out of the hole and set it on the ground. Brushing aside the leaves, he revealed what had gleamed white at the pit’s bottom.
It was a small skull.
As he picked off the leaves, she saw clumps of black fur and spindly ribs. A knobby chain of spine. Leg bones as delicate as twigs.
“Isn’t that something? It doesn’t even smell anymore,” he said. “Been down there almost seven months now. Last time I checked it, there was still some meat on it. Neat how even that disappears. It started to rot real fast after it got warm, back in May.”
“What is it?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“No.”
Picking up the skull, he gave it a little twist, pulling it off the spine. She flinched as he thrust it toward her.
“Don’t!” she squealed.
“Meow!”
“Elijah!”
“Well, you did ask what it was.”
She stared at hollow eye sockets. “It’s a cat?”
He pulled a grocery sack out of his book bag and began placing the bones in the sack.
“What are you going to do with the skeleton?”
“It’s my science project. From kitty to skeleton in seven months.”
“Where did you get the cat?”
“Found it.”
“You just found a dead cat?”
He looked up. His blue eyes were smiling. But these were no longer Tony Curtis eyes anymore; these eyes scared her. “Who said it was dead?”
Her heart was suddenly pounding. She took a step back. “You know, I think I have to go home now.”
“Why?”
“Homework. I’ve got homework.”
He was on his feet now, had sprung there effortlessly. The smile was gone, replaced by a look of quiet expectation.
“I’ll … see you at school,” she said. She backed away, glancing left and right at woods that looked the same in every direction. Which way had they come from? Which way should she go?
“But you just got here, Alice,” he said. He was holding something in his hand. Only as he raised it over his head did she see what it was.
A rock.
The blow sent her to her knees. She crouched in the dirt, her vision almost black, her limbs numb. She felt no pain, just dumb disbelief that he had hit her. She started to crawl, but could not see where she was going. Then he grabbed her ankles and yanked her backward. Her face scraped against the ground as he dragged her by her feet. She tried to kick free, tried to scream, but her mouth filled with dirt and twigs as he pulled her toward the pit. Just as her feet dropped over the edge, she grabbed a sapling and held on, her legs dangling into the hole.
“Let go, Alice,” he said.
“Pull me up! Pull me up!”
“I said, let go.” He lifted a rock and brought it down on her hand.
She shrieked and lost her grip. Slid feetfirst into the hole, landing on a bed of dead leaves.
The Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Bundle Page 93