by Julie Cross
“I don’t possess skills or connections to help people who lied to the FBI.” It isn’t easy to stay focused on working this one asset when I’m dying to peel out of here, find Miles, and get the whole story. My phone vibrates right then, Miles’s name flashing on the screen. I tilt it out of Justice’s view and hit ignore. “And I really can’t help you when you’re lying to me, too.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you everything.” She nods as if convincing herself. “It started when Dominic asked me if I’d come to his house before the dance. Said his parents would get off his back if he had a date they approved of. So I changed my plans with Austin Mahogany, told him I’d meet him there. Did the pictures thing with Dominic.”
“You believed him? That your appearance at his house would make his parents happy?”
“Well, no,” she admits. “But that’s because I’d caught him texting Simon a week earlier. Looked over his shoulder in Spanish.”
I eye her skeptically. I find it hard to believe Dominic DeLuca, who has gone to such great lengths—still—to cover his affair with Simon would be careless enough to put Simon’s real name in his phone. I mention this to Justice.
“I didn’t see Simon’s name when they were texting. Or his photo. But when a new text came in, there was a picture of Simon’s cat.” She gives me this look like yeah, I know how that sounds. “I take my dog to the same vet the Gilberts use. We ran into each other at the vet’s office once last fall.”
Growing more anxious with each passing second of Justice’s overly long story, I shoot Miles a text.
ME: give me 5 min
“All right, so you already knew about them before the dance. How did you end up covering for Dominic later that night?”
“On the way to the dance, I told him I knew his secret and that he should meet up with Simon later on. He could tell his parents he was going out with me.” She pauses for a second. “I went home with him, too, hung out in his room for a little. He wanted me to drive his car to Austin’s party after the dance. That way people would spot the car and assume he was there even if they didn’t see Dominic. Austin’s house is—”
I lift a hand to stop her. I don’t need to hear any more. I already know the rest. “Dominic told his parents he was going to Austin’s, walked with you outside. Then you drove off in his car and Simon showed up to get Dominic, Bret followed Simon, saw them together, sped off.”
“Bret?”
I shake my head, refusing to answer her until I get all of this out. I pace back and forth in the bathroom. “The store clerk didn’t actually see Dominic, just Dominic’s car,” I conclude. “And then I bet Dominic came to you the very next morning, begging you to say that he was with you.”
“You didn’t see him,” she pleads. “He couldn’t get out of bed for an entire week. He was wrecked. He knew what it looked like. He knew how bad it was—”
I finally lose my cool. “Because he murdered someone!”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “Did it ever seem strange that Dominic wanted you to drive his car? After you found out what happened to Simon, never once did you consider the fact that he set you up to be his alibi so that he could do something bad?”
Justice looks me dead in the eyes, not a shred of doubt on her face. “No. Never.”
I lift my hands in the air. “Seriously? You just sat there thinking, wow…sucks for Dominic that Simon’s suicide was so badly timed. At the exact moment they were together!”
Both of us are frozen for a long moment, and then I stand there and watch the truth hit Justice like those waves that had knocked me underwater, toward the bottom of the sea. She flaps her hands around and starts her own pattern of pacing. “Oh my God, oh my God, ohmygod…I fucking lied to the FBI. I’m going to prison. My parents are going to murder me.”
Her voice is gaining volume by the syllable. I slide in front of her and grip her arms, holding her in place. “Unless you want the whole school to hear you, I suggest shutting up.”
Tears immediately tumble down her face. “What do I do? Turn myself in now? Wait until they come after me? Will that make it worse?”
“It might.” I shake my head. “I don’t know. We need—”
The bell rings, signaling that Justice and I are now late for homeroom. She looks panicked all over again. “If I cut class, it will definitely look suspicious. And I need to find Dominic—”
What? “No!” I block her way to the door and pull my phone out. “What part of murderer do you not understand?”
I need Miles. He’ll know what to do. I shoot him another text.
ME: help! Justice meltdown. In the bathroom where I flushed the you know what
I punch in the phone number for the school office. “What’s the name of the Starbucks lady that makes your coffee?”
“Candace,” she says immediately. “Wait—what? I’m having a crisis here—”
“Hello, this is Candace over at the Starbucks on Lincoln,” I say to the secretary, faking a Southern accent. “There’s a Justice Kimura here, and according to her student ID she goes to your school.”
“Yes, she does. Is everything okay?”
“Well, she’s holed up here in the bathroom and won’t come out. It’s not a problem with management or anything, we’ve got two toilets. But I worried about her being tardy. Guess she’s taking some kind of test and can’t come out until she’s got the results. Think maybe y’all should call her folks? Or do you want me to?”
Justice has the most horrified look on her face, but she keeps her mouth shut.
“Um, no, that won’t be necessary,” the secretary says. “As long as she’s okay, we’ll just expect her later then. Thanks for calling.”
I hang up and tell Justice not to move. I race through the halls to Miles’s homeroom and covertly peek inside, preparing to signal him, but he’s not there.
Fifteen minutes later, I return to the bathroom where Justice is now on the floor doing what looks like Lamaze breathing. I checked every bathroom, the gym, the locker room, the library—no Miles anywhere.
I start to panic a little myself. I’m half tempted to turn Justice in myself, but something stops me. Something about the way she looked at me saying she never once thought Dominic had done anything to Simon. I don’t want something to happen to her just because she put her faith in the wrong person. If Dominic really is dangerous, Justice needs to be in a safe place. Safer than this school.
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” I tell her, and she stands immediately. “Go to Starbucks, order a coffee, use the bathroom. Cover our tracks. Then go…” I rack my brain for an idea. “Go to your doctor’s office. Tell them you need to see someone right away. Then Google rare diseases, pick one, and start coming down with those symptoms. You’ll be there all day.”
“What are you going to do?” she asks me.
“I’m going to class.” I already hijacked the homeroom attendance sheets and marked myself here, but it wasn’t easy to do. “I was never in here with you.”
I open the window and tell her to exit that way. To my surprise, she doesn’t hesitate, climbs right out. After she’s gone, I lean against the wall and take a few deep breaths waiting for the bell to ring.
Miles better appear soon, because I don’t know how much longer I can handle all this on my own. Funny how he was the one asking me for advice this morning.
CHAPTER 43
It takes a little over twelve hours for authorities to bring Justice in for questioning. All she said in her nine p.m. text was, “They’re here now.” And then nothing. For hours. Nothing from Miles since our bagel date this morning. Aidan hasn’t come home, so I can’t press him for answers either, or a missing persons report for Miles. My sister is being a nanny all night long for the Feldsteins’ anniversary. So I literally have no one to gripe to.
Even though I’m the verge of insanity, I accidentally doze off around two thirty in the morning. But I’m woken up only minutes later by a warm body landing on
the bed beside me. Before I even open my eyes, lips are on mine. Familiar lips that I haven’t kissed in what feels like forever. Miles has his hand in my hair, his chest pressed against mine, heart pounding beneath his shirt. He’s so good at this, and it’s so completely what I’m desperate for right now that I forget for several minutes that I’ve been texting him for hours with no reply.
My anger and panic from earlier float their way back to the surface, and I shove Miles out of my personal space. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been going crazy!”
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “When the media circus showed up, I was pulled out of there by my handler before I could tell anyone.”
I let this sink in a moment, unable to say anything.
“I meant to say all of that before kissing you, but it just happened.” He eyebrows push together. “Trust me, I’ve been going crazy, too.”
I sit up; the grogginess dissolves among all the urgent matters. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Miles leans against the head of my bed. “Agent Riley wasn’t too interested in our help on Sunday, and then it’s the Secret Service storming into the school.”
“Oh shit,” I say, realizing I need to tell him about Justice. “They took Justice in for questioning tonight. Haven’t heard from her since, but she admitted—”
“I know,” he interrupts. “I heard everything.”
My mouth falls open. “You bugged me?”
“Her,” he clarifies. “They brought Dominic in, too.”
“Both of them?” Shit. This is gettin’ real.
“I talked to him before,” Miles says, indicating that he likely made his decision about pushing Dominic. “You want to hear it or my summarized version.”
He doesn’t even need me to answer that. Soon his phone is out, the recording playing. He scrolls through some small talk until I hear Dominic’s voice rise, anger laced in every word.
“Believe whatever you want,” he snaps. “I didn’t even get in Simon’s car that night. He didn’t fucking ask me over. And I couldn’t go back in after I’d lied to my parents. After Justice drove off in my car. So I let him leave…”
“Come on,” Miles says in a voice that I don’t recognize because it’s hard and cold. The Miles seated beside me flinches at the sound. “I know you went over there, Dominic. What really happened? Maybe you’re not a murderer…maybe Simon thought he’d show off his gun. Maybe he brought it downstairs and you guys were messing around and it accidentally fired. If that’s true—”
“Okay!” Dominic shouts. “You’re right, I fucking went over to his house. But not because he invited me. I didn’t want to be a chickenshit and not tell him—I walked there. Didn’t step foot in his car. And I didn’t step foot in that house, either. Didn’t need to. I was still half a block away when I figured out why he didn’t invite me.”
“Why? Were his parents home?” Miles presses.
“Nope. He had another guy over.”
“What guy?” I demand to the recording, which is probably at least a couple hours old.
The Miles beside me shakes his head and turns off the recording. “He has no idea. Didn’t recognize him. Said it was some young guy, probably Caucasian.”
“Probably Caucasian?” I repeat. “Real helpful.”
“Oh, and he was wearing really shiny black dress shoes with old beat-up jeans,” Miles adds.
I feel like throwing a hard object at the wall. Hearing all these sides, not knowing who’s telling the truth…it’s the most frustrating thing in the world. “So we have yet another new person we can claim as the last to see Simon.”
“Assuming Dominic’s not lying,” Miles points out. “And what kind of person holds on to that information, lets people believe Simon killed himself, just to keep from being outed?”
I fall forward and press my face into the pillow, releasing a loud groan.
Miles rolls me onto my side and leans in to check on me. “Feel better?”
“A little.” I stare up at the ceiling. “What were the Secret Service doing with Bret this morning?”
“I don’t know, but I do know that Senator Gilbert was there, in the science wing. I saw several agents bring him in through the back entrance. I’m not sure why he was there, but maybe he wanted to talk to Bret himself? It’s not the norm but then again, he is a lawyer. They could be cutting Bret a deal—he turns in Dominic and they dismiss whatever it is they have on him.”
“Maybe they found his stash of blackmail photos.” I hug my knees to conceal the fact that my hands are shaking again. “Is it so bad? That the FBI have Justice and Dominic? That they’re really looking for a murderer?”
“No,” he admits. “It’s not a bad thing.”
We’re both silent for a long time, but eventually I give him a nudge with my foot. “What? You look like you’re sitting on a big secret.”
“Not a secret.” He turns to face me. “But things are changing quickly. With my semester at Holden coinciding with this big case reopening, my school is likely going to pull me from Holden for security reasons. They won’t want to draw any attention to Marshall Academy and especially not the honors program.”
Oh. That’s what he came to tell me. “You’re leaving.”
Miles nods. “Probably.”
My stomach sinks. It’s not like this wasn’t on the horizon soon anyway, but I thought we still had at least a month. “Right. That makes sense. With the media circus outside the school and your history with Simon…”
“My history with Simon is classified information. The public won’t find out about any of that.”
“Good.” I nod and find myself standing, pacing a straight line in my room. “Now you won’t have to deal with Clyde or the druggie kids at school, or me and my—”
“Ellie,” Miles says. When I don’t stop pacing, he reaches for my hand and brings me closer. “I’m not ready to leave. I just—I’m not ready. But if my supervisor tells me to, I won’t have a choice.”
We stare at each other in the dark, my chest rising and falling with each breath, stealing the little space between us. I could do it now. Tell him the truth. It would make this a cleaner break. He’d leave and wouldn’t look back.
But then Miles pulls me down beside him, lays a hand on my cheek. “I’m not ready to go mostly because of you.”
Warmth spreads over my body. It’s hard to even get a grasp on everything I’m feeling, but when I kiss Miles, it all pours out, through my lips, onto his. None of my efforts to conceal the tidal wave of emotions hitting me does any good, and I can feel the difference in his reaction; it’s heavier, it’s more. So much more.
Minutes later we’re stretched across my bed, our shirts on the floor. Warm lips trail down my chest and stomach. Already my mind is headed much further than we got in our last make-out session. Miles slowly wiggles off my pajama shorts, glancing up at me every few seconds, giving me a chance to stop him. I don’t. His mouth skims along the waistband of my panties and then slides to the inside of my thighs. My heart thunders in my ears, my hands reaching down to touch some part of him. Eventually he makes his way back up, and his mouth finds mine again.
His fingers drag along my side until I can’t take it anymore, and a shiver races up my back. His lips touch my neck, move just below my ear, and he whispers, “You smell like sun.”
“Like sun,” I repeat, half gone. “You smell like a swimming pool.”
Just to be sure I’m right, I bury my face in that groove between his neck and shoulder and inhale. While my face is still hidden, I admit that I’ve watched him in the pool from my bedroom window.
I wait for him to laugh, but when he lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine, he looks so serious. “I’m sorry, Ellie. For making it seem like I only wanted to work together or hook up.”
Miles allows his hand to roam down my stomach and over my panties. I close my eyes and sigh. “I forgive you. You’re perfect.”
“I’m not.” He leans over and kisses
my cheek, the corner of my mouth, my nose. “But I accept the ego boost.”
He sits up and my eyes fly open, checking to see if he’s leaving. His gaze travels from my toes to my light blue panties, to the tiny bow on my bra, and then he stops when he reaches my face. His hand follows the same path his eyes had just gone down. Again, he stops when he reaches my face, resting his fingers at the base of my neck.
I’m warm all over despite the key missing articles of clothing. And when his hand makes the return trip south, this time sliding beneath the waistband of my panties, warm turns to heated. He does everything so slow, deliberate, not the sloppy impulsiveness I experienced in my past life.
Eventually I can’t stand the space between us a second longer, and I tug his arms until he’s lying beside me. My hand glides over his shoulder, his chest, slowly moving lower. His own hand slides over me again, beneath my underwear, and I have to bite down on my lower lip to keep from making any sounds.
The feelings build the more of me Miles touches, and soon I’m ready to explode. My fingers reach inside his boxers again, gripping him, moving up and down until his breath catches, his body tensing. And then he’s kissing me, whispering my name against my lips, and I’m right there with him.
When we both catch our breath and come down from the high, I lay my ear over Miles’s heart and listen to the rapid beat slow. His hand is in my hair, moving over it gently, lazily, like we do this all the time. I relax, probably for the first time in twenty-four hours, and my body molds itself to him. I’m about to drift off to sleep but Miles stops breathing, tenses like he’s going to say something important. I wait a beat and sure enough, he speaks.
“Ellie?” His thumb traces over my lips. “What if you don’t stay at Holden next semester? It’s gonna be a mess around here. And you won’t be able to—you could go to Marshall Academy.”