by Alexis Bass
I reach into the garbage can and pull out the package. Immediately, I notice the return address scribbled in the corner. Francesca Finn. I remember the way Edison’ reacted when he got the package. How he shook his head, like he didn’t understand.
I take the package and move closer to the light. Inside is a stack of papers about thirty pages thick. Medical records, it looks like. Rows of vitals and bloodwork. How did Edison say his mother died again? A sudden blood disease. I don’t know much of what I’m looking at, but many of the pages seem repetitive, like they are an accumulation of the tests they gave her when she checked into the hospital. The last few pages have red ink. They are marked as “Alert.” I don’t know what any of the abbreviations stand for, but I can see clearly the element abbreviation that killed her. And then on the next page, there is a summary. In red ink, the words: Alert: lethal levels of tamoxide detected. I drop the papers, feeling a surge of panic rising in my chest. I gather them quickly, flipping to the next sheet—nearly identical except “Alert” is listed farther down the page, next to a different abbreviation. Then on the next page, for the summary, it states: “Alert: subject tested positive for blood poisoning.”
I wonder if Edison looked at this. If he thought it was normal.
Karen said: Sepp swears Edison didn’t know what to make of it.
Quickly, I turn back to the page with the tamoxide detection; I scan over the sheet. It pops out at me clear as day. The doctor who issued the report.
Dr. Alice.
It’s too much of a coincidence. Dr. Alic. Dr. Alice. If the agents were basing the name they had off a blurry image of a pill bottle, maybe they couldn’t see the whole name, the last letter cut off.
The realization compounds heavy in the pit of my stomach. It turns my throat to ashes. If Dr. Alic is really Dr. Alice, then either the Duvals know Dr. Alice and they use him to get rid of people—or they are Dr. Alice. I look back through the whole stack of reports. Dr. Alice is listed only on the results with tamoxide.
And Edison’s mother knew, I think.
Before she died she arranged to have these sent to Edison. She must’ve known that she didn’t end up in the hospital for no reason; that it wasn’t a sudden illness. She told Edison, “You’re going to have a beautiful life, my boy.” If she knew the truth about what the Duvals were, she must’ve known they wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. It must’ve scared her enough that she didn’t want Edison to know until after she was gone. My hands shake as I fumble with the papers, putting them back in the envelope. I stuff the package in my bag and get ready to exit.
There’s nothing but silence on the other side of the door. I inch it open slowly. The coast seems clear. The second I step out of the office I hear them, coming down the hall, from the room they were in when I first arrived. I can see them getting closer through the mirror. I don’t have time to be stealthy and careful. I only have time to hurry as fast as I can toward the stairs.
When I reach the dark hallway at the top of the stairs, I’m faced with rows of doors, three on one side, four on the other. I thought I would remember which door led to Edison’s room from the last time I was here. The memory comes hurling through my mind—Edison pressing me against the wall, his lips hard on mine, his hands reaching up my dress. It was on the left side—I’m almost sure. Maybe the third door—or was that Sepp’s room? My head spins; my heart is still racing. Taking a guess, I quickly walk through the third door on the left. The room is full of gray light, the darkness subdued from the glow coming in from the open window.
Someone registers my presence and I hear a low moan. Not Edison. A lamp flicks on. Sepp is on his stomach, half under the covers, resting on his elbows on the edge of the mattress by his bedside table and the lamp. He squints as his eyes adjust to the light.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” is what he says when he realizes it’s me.
“I’m lost—I meant to sneak into Edison’s room.”
“I’m sure you did,” he says. He pushes away the covers and gets out of bed. When he looks down and realizes he’s only in black boxer briefs, he turns off the lamp.
I’m about to get out of there, but his hand covers mine over the doorknob.
“You can’t let anyone else see you,” he says in a low voice. “Does Edison know you’re here?”
I shake my head. It’s important that Sepp know Edison would never be so careless as to invite me here and risk the Duvals discovering that he’s gotten himself involved in something that could effectively ruin what he’s built with Chelsea and cut off their access to George. Sepp needs to know I came here on my own, no matter how pathetic or desperate or weak this makes me look to him.
“I’ll be really careful,” I say.
“Famous last words,” he says. “Do you have any idea what time it is? And—wait—weren’t you who he was out meeting tonight?”
I nod. He’s looking down at me and I can see the astonishment in his face, his eyebrows lowered like he’s trying to read me, like he can’t tell if it’s believable, from everything he knows about me, that I’d sneak in here to see Edison after just having spent hours with him. I stare back at him, seeing him for who he really is for the first time. He knew what was done to Edison’s mother and he must’ve been responsible for killing Archaletta, probably the one who slipped the tamoxide in his drink at the clambake. We are muted versions of ourselves in this foggy light, but he is still striking as his lips curve up into a slight smile.
“Maris,” he says, sighing. “Are you familiar with the expression ‘get a grip’?”
“Pretend you never saw me. Or better yet help me, cover for us—”
“Oh, no, no, no—no way,” he says, moving between me and the door. “I already cover plenty for Edison—and for you. You’re not going back out there. Not with my parents still up working. You can see him when they finally go to bed.”
“Sepp. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s only one door over!” I get as loud as I can while still whispering.
He holds up his fingers. “Two! Two doors over, Maris. Wow, I thought you were supposed to be good at this whole sneaking around thing.”
“I usually am.” I step back from the door and sit on the edge of the bed. I’m still really shaken up. I should get out of here as fast as I can. Sepp knows about everything, all the secrets too risky for Edison to know. But Sepp doesn’t know about the agents. And he doesn’t know about me. To him, I still look like a reckless girl, blinded by love. “I wasn’t trying to get Edison in trouble.”
“They’re big on loyalty, our family. Big on respect, too. They wouldn’t like Edison sneaking around with anyone behind their backs. But now they’ve got this friendship with George based on his relationship with Chelsea, so you can see how that makes it worse.” He shakes his head. “Also, I retain the role of the family fuckup. No need to go passing the torch to Edison just yet.”
I know he wants me to smile at this, so I do it. It doesn’t relax him the way I’d hoped it would. He walks over and sits down next to me on the bed.
“You can stay here until it’s safe to go to his room. But … why are you really here, Maris?”
Right now, I should lie to him. But even for all the secrets Sepp keeps, he has always let me see the truth about who he is and what he feels.
“George caught me tonight. With Edison. Edison doesn’t know— he was gone when George approached me.” While I talk, Sepp is covering his mouth, shaking his head. “George is mad, but what he said to me…” Remembering makes my voice catch in my throat, raw tears form in my eyes.
“What did he say?” Sepp’s hand comes down on mine; his voice is soft.
“He said—” I can’t get it out. It wasn’t anything new, George’s disappointment in me, the way he wanted to ignore how I am or pretend to understand it—but for some reason I think about Chelsea’s diamond necklace, an identical one purchased for me. I think of George’s arms around me when he hoisted me up when we played badminton. I th
ink of the relaxed smile on his face, the way he beamed at Trisha, when Chelsea and I entertained Phoebe downtown for the afternoon. I thought I’d already let George go, written him off. But it’s like losing him every day, all over again, the same pain as when I was young and wished for a father who loved me and wanted to be with me.
Tears glide down my face. I wipe at my cheeks and Sepp puts his arm around me.
“I thought I’d gotten over it, stopped expecting anything from him. I thought I was used to him not caring about me.”
“Maris.” He pulls me in closer. What he says next surprises me. “I know how you feel.”
But maybe it shouldn’t. The things I’ve done pale in comparison to the horrible things he’s done. Maybe we were both led astray somehow, products of whatever came before us, whatever happened to us when we weren’t old enough to know better or how to protect ourselves, how to save ourselves.
“You do?” I turn toward him. I’m distracted for a moment by his nearness. His arm gets tighter around me in a way that doesn’t make me feel afraid. It makes me feel safe. Comforted. I let myself lean into his warm skin.
“Of course I do,” he whispers. “So that’s why you wanted to see Edison tonight? You were sad and he’d make you feel better?”
I shake my head, then change my mind and nod. I came here to feel better, to forget, to distract myself—I came here to be reckless, let all the secrets drop not caring what would become of the wreckage. Because for me, that is what feels best.
There’s a burst of noise and the door swings open. The overhead light is turned on.
“Sepp?” Karen’s voice.
“What’s going on here?” It’s Warren.
I blink against the light and they come into view. Warren’s gaze shifts between Sepp—disheveled hair, wearing only his boxers—and me, looking equally as unruly, but at least fully clothed.
Sepp lets his arm drop from around me and stands up. I follow his lead and do the same.
He reaches for a robe hanging off the chair at his desk.
“Oh.” Karen shakes her head. “Sepp?”
“I was just walking Maris out,” he says.
My heart is racing. I try to think of what to say, how to play this—but I am utterly terrified. I don’t look at either of them.
“How is she getting home?” Karen says.
“My boat is at the dock.” I speak up right away.
Sepp nods once; he puts his hand on the small of my back, nudging me out of the room. He stays close to me as we walk down the hall.
Karen and Warren are on our heels.
“Maris can show herself out.” Karen has her arm extended; she touches Sepp’s shoulder, stopping him. “Can’t you, Maris?”
Sepp’s hand is still on my back, but I nod. My legs feel like they’re going to give out at any moment as I move swiftly down the stairs. Sepp doesn’t follow me. My heart is still racing and my breath is coming out in large gulps. I round the corner at the bottom of the stairs where I am out of their view, and I lean against the wall, trying to pull it together. A painting of the Duvals stares back at me on the opposite wall. Oswald, Karen, Warren, and Sepp, looking like he couldn’t be any older than ten. None of them are smiling, and this makes them appear both sad and regal.
When I’m about to run toward the back door, the sound of yelling from upstairs stops me.
“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Warren shouts. “What the hell is the matter with you?” I hear the hollow slap of a fist hitting skin and listen as Sepp lets out a sharp gasp.
“How long has this been going on?” Warren demands, but he continues on, not waiting for an answer. “You better hope she doesn’t say anything that jeopardizes what you’ve built with Katherine Ellis.”
“She won’t,” Sepp says, his voice weak.
“She’s unpredictable,” Warren says.
“What if she’s jealous? What if she…” Karen says. “She’s just a girl, Sepp.”
“This is the most idiotic thing you’ve done in a long time,” yells Warren.
“You don’t have to worry about her,” Sepp says.
Warren says, “You better pray that’s true.” His voice is gruff.
“We still need information from Katherine,” Karen says. “She has to trust you.”
“I know that,” Sepp mutters quickly.
Warren’s voice booms again. “If you knew that, why would you take such a risk with a damn teenager? Especially one who is with us all the time. She could cause a scene over this whenever she wants!” There’s a loud thud. Sepp cries out again. Sepp gasps for air; and then he starts coughing.
I hear the sound of a door opening.
“Go back to bed, Edison,” Karen says.
“What’s going on?” Edison says.
“Go back to your room,” Sepp says in a raspy voice.
“What’s happened?” Edison says.
“Good night, Edison,” Sepp says again, his voice still strained, but more forceful this time.
“You don’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you fuck this up,” Warren says.
There’s the sound of a door slamming. Another door clicking shut.
I peer around the corner and climb the steps just enough that I can see down the hallway. Sepp is leaning against the wall, his nose dripping blood. Karen is standing with her back to me. She holds out an old phone, like the one I found that first day I met him—Edison’s phone.
“You gave her this number?” Karen asks.
Sepp lets his head hang for a minute, eyes closed, before he finally nods. “I guess I did.”
“You’re too quick to like people,” she says to him. “Even when I’ve told you your whole life that no one is good.”
“Maybe she’s not good and that’s why I like her. It takes one to know one, isn’t that what Oswald is always saying?”
Karen’s hand flies across his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” Sepp croaks. “I promise it will not be a problem.”
Karen turns her head slowly in my direction.
I whirl around and run. I don’t stop. As I create distance between me and the Duvals I am aware of every rustle of leaves, the sudden offbeat whoosh whenever a wave crashes the shore faster than the waves that came before it. I imagine a hand reaching out to grab me. Someone already waiting for me on the dock.
Can I leave Edison here, with these people who murdered his mother? What other choice do I have? If the Duvals suspect something’s off with Edison, with whatever they have planned tomorrow, they won’t hesitate to fix the problem, or make it go away entirely. I can take the medical records and show them to the agents—they’ll have to look into it as another Proof of Death to add to their case. I’ll turn the tracker on the second I get home; that should be a red flag to them that something is wrong, and they’ll come looking for me.
I get in Vienna and speed across the cove. Everyone is still asleep when I get home, but I know that with the thin walls of this house, there are sure to be questions.
Chapter 56
Chelsea startles me awake, waving a steaming maple scone under my nose when it’s almost noon. I scream so loudly that Chelsea drops the plate and Trisha rushes in from her bedroom down the hall.
“I’m sorry!” Chelsea says. Trisha breathes out in relief with her hand over her heart.
They both look at me like they are very concerned.
I fell asleep over my comforter, still in the clothes I’d worn to meet Edison, with my bag containing Franny’s medical records and the tracking device from the agents around my arm. I turned it on last night and sat on my bed, staring out the window to see if their black SUV would pull up outside. That’s the last thing I remember.
I dig out my phone and bring the screen to life. No missed calls from my mother, which means George hasn’t resorted to looping her in yet. Maybe he won’t, and when I am safe and sound in Arizona, he’ll go back to pretending that none of this happened. And until then, he’ll bide his time
, keep the peace between me and his new family until I leave. Chelsea will never have to know what I did to her; George will never have to have another conversation about how similar it is to what he did.
Edison is in the living room with Chelsea when I come downstairs. He stays through the afternoon. George is not ever in the same vicinity as Edison and me and busies himself wiping down Vienna, collecting all the beach towels and shaking them free of sand, going to the market to get eggs for the pancakes he insists he’s going to make us tomorrow morning. He packs up the boat two hours before we planned to leave for North Point Beach and the Fourth of July party.
Chelsea and Trisha question his behavior; they say, “You’ve been going nonstop, take a minute and relax; sit with us,” but he gets out of that conversation, too.
“I’ve been running around all day,” he tells them, “getting things ready for us to go to the Fourth of July party, and now I have to shower.”
I suspect they don’t notice that he’s only greeted Edison in passing, or that he’s not said one word to me or even looked in my direction.
But I am more anxious than George, and his behavior is the least of my worries. I keep Franny’s package with me at all times, stuffed in my purse that’s always strapped around my shoulder. I stash the tracker under my left arm, held tightly to my body by my bathing suit. It’s a comfort to know all I have to do is squeeze my arm to my side and I can feel it’s with me. I’ve decided the agents probably won’t approach me while I’m at home or at the beach behind our house. They’re going to wait for the party, where it’s easier for them to blend in with the crowd.