Deceived

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  Pixie followed. “Are you going somewhere?” She stood in the doorway while I faced my closet, pouting.

  “No.” I was so convincing that she rolled her eyes and left.

  I flopped onto the bed and shoved another forkful of dinner into my mouth. My wardrobe was junk. I owned a closet full of jeans, sneakers, and hoodies. I put the bowl on the floor and rolled over onto my back when Pixie’s footsteps returned.

  “Here.” Annoyance gave an edge to her voice.

  Thrump!

  I shot upright expecting to see a hole in the floor. A giant black trunk sat at her feet.

  “It’s the wardrobe I came with. It’s three years old but still better than anything in there.” She pointed a perfect black fingernail at my closet. “Help.” We heaved the giant thing onto my bed.

  I was never so happy to see clothes, and I couldn’t believe they were Pixie’s. Scratch that. They belonged to Priscilla.

  “We’re practically the same size. Most of this will fit. If you’re going to be outside, I’d wear the belted coat. It’s cute. The designer was a friend of my mother’s. He got me interested in design. It was my gateway drug. Who knew I’d love everything artsy?” She winked and began to pull things from the trunk until every square inch of my room looked like backstage at a fashion show.

  I marveled at the sheer volume of couture in one place. The trunk reminded me of the enormous steamer trunks carrying supplies on the Titanic, or maybe a U-Haul without a trailer hitch. I’d seen the thing before and assumed it held more of her art supplies, not clothes.

  “Your mom is friends with a clothing designer?” I might not have been the best judge, but that sounded pretty cool. Her perfect porcelain face scrunched. I immediately regretted asking. Pixie never talked about her parents. I was hungry for any scrap of information about any mom on the planet, and Pixie hated hers.

  “My parents fought until I was twelve, then started their divorce when I was in middle school. It’s probably still going on. They sent me here to “protect me from all the negative energy,” but the truth was neither one wanted to be saddled with a kid. They were busy trying to out-date one another. Plus, dividing all their crap takes time.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I had only six years with my mom, but the memories were treasures. My parents never fought over me. We did things together, especially the last year before her accident. We spent more time at the cabin than ever before. We always stayed a week in the summer, but that year we stayed longer. The cabin is nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, isolated, peaceful. After she died, Dad sold our house in D.C. and took a new position at work. He had always traveled, but we hadn’t moved before. He said he couldn’t pass up the opportunity. At first we visited the cabin between jobs. The cabin where Mom once wore Dad’s flannel over her T-shirts and rolled up her pants to the knees. Where she made mud castles with me while Dad scouted the area or fished the stream nearby. I think Dad held on to her by keeping the memories close. I did, too. As the years passed, we visited the cabin less and less, but I thought of it every day. Thought of her every day.

  Pixie’s forehead smoothed. She pulled a brilliant blue silk scarf from the inside zipper section. “This is awesome with the belted coat.”

  Even I understood. The coat was white and the blue silk would be a crowning jewel. I tried them on immediately. Pixie had to help me with the belt. Then she slipped huge black shades onto my face. I looked like a movie star—from the waist up. I was still in my pleated skirt and knee socks. The coat flared at the hips. I sighed at my reflection, a living before-and-after photo.

  A dozen combinations of Priscilla clothes later and I secretly wished I had somewhere to wear them all. I liked clothes. Who knew? I wasn’t quite ready for the coat. I laid some possible outfits on my bed and considered asking Pixie about my makeup. Makeup was taking the change too far for one afternoon. I peeked at my watch for the twenty-seventh time and kept moving.

  Showering happened at record speed. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t wait to get ready. I slid into a pair of her dark-wash skinny jeans and a white tank before pulling a cashmere v-neck sweater over the top. The sweater was a deep shade of red, fitting for fall, and I’d been complimented when wearing a similar shade in the past. I considered painting my nails but hated to be too obvious, so I settled for a fresh clear coat. The clothes alone screamed makeover. Pixie added an oversized belt to the outside of the sweater and it showed off my waist nicely. I spun in the mirror and nodded at the me looking back. Mirror-me smiled wildly.

  Pixie leaned against my door frame, looking smug.

  She held a bag filled with shoes. I decided on sleek-looking boots and zipped them over the jeans to my knees. I owed her big time. What a difference an outfit could make. Thank you, Priscilla. I could barely look in Pixie’s direction when I walked into the front room where she’d relocated. I’d kicked her out at the end so I could try not to hyperventilate in private. When I emerged from my room, she flipped through a magazine and tapped her foot. She immediately pushed to her feet and walked over to me, nodding her head. I knew the question. I was going somewhere important, somewhere that made me want to do all this, and I hadn’t told her. She was the most curious person I knew, and I had no doubt the question was coming.

  Then, as if she hadn’t already done more than I’d ever imagined, Pixie gave me one more gift. She smiled a tight crooked smile and handed me lip gloss.

  “Thanks.”

  “What are best friends for?”

  I blinked. I hadn’t had a best friend since kindergarten. Her words stung my eyes.

  “Have fun not going out.” She anchored her hands over her hips.

  I walked the entire way to the wall in a trance, trying to take it all in. Mysterious danger aside, Ohio in the fall took my breath away. This was it. If I didn’t get my questions answered tonight, I never would.

  Chapter Eleven

  When the wall came into view, so did Brian. He leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest, watching me. The fields behind him lit up in an orange haze as the sun set. Thick lines of purple and gray sky broke up the fiery image, making it look like a backdrop at a photography studio. I stopped walking to absorb the view.

  His green eyes sparkled in the waning sun. Against the orange glow of sunset, his already-tan skin seemed to glisten. My eyes ran over his features, down the length of his neck and over his shoulders. Trying to memorize every detail, I looked back to his face once more. His eyes caught mine, and the previously stoic expression evaporated. A smile split his face, and my knees wobbled.

  “You came.” He sounded surprised.

  “Of course.” Maybe I wasn’t the only crazy one. Who wouldn’t come to meet him?

  “What do you want to do?” He revealed the absurd little dimple in his left cheek. He was completely unfair. Just when I thought one person couldn’t be any more attractive this side of reality, the dimple popped and he proved me wrong again.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of the question. It was his invitation that had brought me there. I assumed he had a plan.

  I had nothing.

  His smile stretched, and my pulse quickened. “Are you opposed to leaving town?”

  Why did everyone keep asking me that? “Permanently?”

  “No.” He laughed. Then he motioned toward his Jeep, parked nearby in the grass. “How about for the evening?”

  My eyes widened. “Someone’s going to be really ticked off about this.”

  “Who?” His frame went rigid.

  “Whoever takes care of the grass.” Didn’t he see the mess he had made with those off-road tires on the perfectly manicured lawn? “Look at that.”

  Brian made an exaggerated sigh, helped me into the passenger’s seat, and shut the door behind me.

  “What, no coffee?”

  He shot me a sideways look. “I’m sorry. It was thoughtless.”

  “Completely.” I’d made an effort to cut back on the pills. In just under a month
, since school started, I’d managed to decrease the addiction for the first time in my life. Normally it inched up every year. This year, I’d had enough adrenaline and crazy to keep me going without it. Straight coffee kept me upright and the headaches at bay. Even the bags under my eyes looked more like carry-ons these days.

  “Can we start our business after dinner?”

  I wasn’t positive I could eat, but I wasn’t about to say no either. “Our business?”

  We drove for about two minutes before he spoke again, which was perfect because I had no idea what to say. With a face like his, I imagined he’d been on his fair share of dates—if that was what we were doing. His ensemble mirrored mine. Dark jeans, black boots, a black concert tee pulled over a long-sleeve thermal. Casual. “Nicholas, huh?”

  I licked my lips. Time for answers.

  “You brought it up at lunch, remember?” He looked at me with a lifted chin waiting for my explanation. Turning the tables wasn’t acceptable. I had too many questions to play games.

  “Mmm hmm.” I tried to sound like I knew more than I was telling. My guilty conscience hoped to hide my nosy, mildly obsessive behavior patterns.

  “Care to expound?”

  I squeezed my lips into a tight line and shook my head.

  Despite the furrowed brow, he sounded impressed. “You surprise me. People don’t normally do that. It’s in my best interest not to be surprised.” His lips twitched at the corners.

  “About that.”

  “Uh-uh.” He shook a finger at me. “I believe I have the floor here.”

  How did that happen? I might’ve been in trouble.

  “What do you know, precisely?” Emphasis on precisely.

  “Uh … ” My mind scrambled in circles. I had the questions. He had nothing to question me about. I didn’t know anything.

  “Oh.” His eyebrows reached for his hairline. “You know more than I suspected. How long did you chase your lead?”

  “Well … ”

  He barked a laugh.

  I looked around and chewed on my lip. Trees flew by at an alarming rate. I had no idea where we were or where we might be going. The only diner in town was long left behind.

  We pulled into a driveway and stopped. An adorable little cottage on the river stared back at me. The deep blue siding and white trim looked inviting. A stained-glass window above the front door read “Welcome.” Nerves tugged at my tummy. He couldn’t pull into someone’s drive and park. It was rude.

  “I’m nosy.” I admitted the obvious first. When I had to lie, I always admitted to something small and hoped the questioning party would assume I’d divulged all there was to tell. Sadly, when confronting a liar, there’s always more.

  “You’re inquisitive. That’s not exactly a criminal offense.”

  “You would know.” I smiled through the words, and he unlocked his door.

  “I would know.” He slid out of the car and moved around the front toward my door. I hoped it wasn’t his way of telling me he was a criminal.

  “What’re you doing?” My jaw dropped when he swung my door open. “I thought you said we were going to dinner? We’re nowhere near anything.”

  “I thought you’d like to walk along the river before dinner. It’s nice.” He held out a hand.

  I stared at him, wondering if he’d gone mad. “I’m not getting out.” We weren’t in D.C. Small-town people had rights, too.

  “You can’t park here,” I said a little too loudly, and I looked around for witnesses. I didn’t want to draw attention. “Where are we anyway?” We’d passed a myriad of “entering” and “leaving” corporation signs in the past few minutes alone.

  “Why? No one’s home.” The mischievous look in his eyes taunted me.

  “You live here, don’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Temporarily. Come on.” The impish grin and concert logo were fighting with his always-too-serious presence. Not even a thermal and rock T-shirt could make me forget he was an unknown element. Dad had drilled “unknown equals run” into my brain with a hot branding iron. Still, I wanted to go with him.

  I pulled in a quick breath the moment his skin met mine. His huge hand completely enveloped my smaller one. The differences between us reminded me how powerless I was. Against the dream, my imagination … everything. His hand was warmer and rougher than mine. The contrast sent goose bumps down my arm and heat everywhere else. My head shook a little as the shiver slid into my shoes.

  “Are you cold?” He released me once my feet were planted firmly on the ground. He shut the door and ushered me along the side of the little house.

  A pergola stood on a stone foundation near the river in the backyard. We stopped and he lit a small fire in a large iron pit. I watched from a wicker bench. The air chilled my cheeks, but the warmth from the fire, from his nearness, more than made up for it. Cool air swirled in from the rushing river, blowing tendrils of smoke and embers my way. Tangy, bitter scents tickled my nose, and my mom came to mind. How many backyard barbecues had I enjoyed with her?

  Brian sat beside me. I bent and flexed my cold fingers. I would’ve gladly sat there until hypothermia set in. No fire needed. Cologne and mint mixed with the nostalgia-scented air. I felt a swoon coming on.

  “Now, I know you know … ” he slowed, “ … my name is Nicholas.”

  He wanted me to lead from there. I was afraid to admit I didn’t know that, not at all, despite how diligent I’d been. I didn’t want him to tell me to get lost, back off, or anything else that meant it would be our last conversation.

  “Do you have any questions about that?” He waited.

  “No.”

  “No?” He wedged his elbow over the back of the bench and leaned in.

  I shoved my hands under my knees to keep from reaching out to touch him again.

  “How is that possible? You should be angry.”

  “Why?” I couldn’t fathom being angry with him.

  “I lied to you. That tends to irk people.”

  “Right. Yes.” I gathered my thoughts. I should be mad at him for lying to me. The thought had occurred to me before, but it hadn’t stuck. I sat a little straighter. All things considered, his name mattered little. “You lied to me.” I narrowed my eyes.

  “Yes, you seem livid.” He tapped his long fingers against the back of the bench. “You don’t care that I lied. I need to know why.”

  “Well, you have your reasons, right? I mean, you weren’t trying to ditch me, or you wouldn’t keep showing up everywhere I go.” My face warmed at the implication. I’d accused him of following me. Saying it aloud sounded silly, but it was the truth.

  “True. I’ve never once tried to ditch you.” He turned and pressed his back to the bench and stretched his legs out before him. He had some very serious black leather boots on. Probably military issue. The boots I wore were sleek and long, quite the opposite of the chunky black leather Brian, I mean Nicholas, wore.

  “Local mall?” I nodded toward the boots.

  He followed my gaze and pulled his feet back underneath the bench. Trading positions, he leaned forward on his elbows.

  “If you tell me what you know, or what you think you know, or even what you’re assuming … if you tell me anything at all, it’ll help me.” His voice sparked and popped with sincerity.

  I wanted to help him, but I didn’t want him thinking me a sneak. Also, I knew nothing.

  “I’d be grateful to the moon.”

  “Okay. Why are we here?” I traded one awkward conversation for another. At least we were in this one together. Our other conversation set me up to be busted further.

  “Do you not want to be?” His lips turned down at the corners and his eyes widened by a hair.

  It kind of looked as if I’d thrown something at him. Realization set in. He wanted to be here with me, too. Looking at him, I couldn’t get my mind around why.

  “Of course.” I sounded more eager than I wanted. “I don’t even know what to call you anymore, and there’s
a whole school full of girls, from all around the country, vying for your attention. I don’t get why we’re here.” I motioned between us.

  His eyes narrowed. He twisted on the bench until his face came an inch or two closer. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  I envisioned my body rolling off the bench and into the river. I wouldn’t have noticed if it had. My head was already swimming.

  I sucked in a long breath. “I was working on a Sociology assignment, but I couldn’t find any information about me online.” I looked as innocent as I could manage, considering the guilt swirling in my tummy. “I tried Googling your name instead, and I found out you were either ninety years old or you gave me a bogus name. I would’ve stopped there and assumed you blew me off, but then you showed up and I heard you say ‘Nicholas.’” I bit my bottom lip to keep from rambling further. I thought you might be the serial killer.

  “You didn’t know Nicholas was my name?” He looked out into the trees and stretched back out. Defeated.

  “No. I mean, is that what I’m supposed to call you now or what? I’m so confused. This town is the absolute worst.”

  He nodded as if knowing exactly how I felt.

  “What is your actual name?” I gave him a look for lying. Now that I was getting to know him, it did irk me that he had lied about his name. Jeez. Who did that?

  He smirked and stood up. “Let’s walk.” His expression moved from startled to stressed.

  As we walked along the river, the water roared, emphasizing the lack of words between us. He walked several inches away, and I frowned. I preferred the way he had helped me from the car. His hands were shoved deep inside his pockets. A nervous gesture, maybe, but everything else about him exuded confidence.

  “My dad came to visit.”

  “Yeah.” He averted his gaze.

  I waited for him to look my way. “He said there’s been something on the local news about a stalker in the area.” I kept my voice breezy. “I heard from someone at school it was a serial killer. The paper had a useless article about the FBI contacting local authorities on an unsolved case. Have you heard anything?” I wasn’t too concerned about a stalker in the area at the moment. I had my own mystery going on. A serial killer was another story completely. The surveillance at Francine Frances had to take a number.