“I’ve had fifteen years to think about every minute leading up to that night. If I remembered anything, the police would already know about it.”
Nate knew that he needed to quit while he was ahead. “Understood. Thanks for answering my questions, Ed.”
“I failed my daughter, son. I hope you’ll understand the kind of torture I’ve felt all these years.” Ed sighed loudly. “The least I can do is answer your questions. I doubt I offered you anything worth hearing, but maybe you’ll think of something no one else has.”
Nate wanted to offer the old man some hope, but so far it wasn’t looking good. He thought of something that had been bothering him, “One more thing. How old was your son at the time? I noticed that he never gave a statement to the police.”
“Brian was only eight. He was asleep in his bed all night. The police didn’t see any reason to upset him by asking him question about his murdered sister. He was always quiet anyway. I doubt he would’ve said much to a group of strangers.”
Olivia jumped to her feet. “Thanks, Dad. I’m sure this was all very helpful. Right, Nate?”
“Yeah, sure. Very helpful.”
Olivia feigned a big yawn. “I think all the fresh air today has caught up with me. I could use a nap.”
She practically skipped from the room and Nate was instantly suspicious. For one thing, Olivia never napped. She had enough trouble sleeping at night, so a quick doze in the middle of the day was a nonstarter. But she also had a sparkle in her eye that said she knew something Nate didn’t know. It was a look he was used to seeing.
“I need to go do some work,” Nate hurriedly explained as he followed her from the room. Ed had already returned to the television.
Nate checked Olivia’s room, then quickly glanced in Rosie’s unadulterated sanctuary. Both rooms were empty. He heard a loud thud coming from the room where he had left his stuff earlier and he found Olivia sitting on the floor in the closet.
“This is weird. Even for you.”
“Don’t ruin this moment for me, Nater.” Olivia triumphantly held up a knife.
Nate threw up both hands. “I’m sorry, Olivia. Please don’t stab me.”
“Funny.” She frowned and looked down at the floor. “Brian used to hide stuff in the floorboards. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it until now. He was always stealing stuff from me and from Rosie, and he would hide it in his room.”
“You think he might have something in there that could be useful?”
“Even better. I think he has Rosie’s diary.” She slipped the tip of the knife between a few of the boards, but none of them were loose. On her fifth try, the board moved. She pushed down further until she was able to pry the board free.
Nate held his breath as Olivia reached into the small gap and searched blindly. Several seconds passed and he was about to give up. Olivia had other plans though, and she reached deeper until her face lit up.
“I’ve got something.”
When her hand emerged from the dark hole, it was clutching a small notebook. At one time, it had been pink, but now it was mostly the color of dirt. It was completely nondescript, and could’ve belonged to anyone. Nate knew that wasn’t the case though, and the look on Olivia’s face confirmed his optimism.
“This is it, Nate. This is Rosie’s diary.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Olivia cradled the diary carefully in her hands. It had been so long since she had seen it, neatly perched on Rosie’s nightstand, she almost didn’t believe that it was real. But it was heavy in her hand, and the leather crinkled as she turned it over in her hands.
“Would you mind giving me some time alone?” she asked Nate, hoping he wouldn’t be offended.
“No prob. Come find me when you’re ready to talk about what’s inside.”
She settled on Brian’s bed after he was gone and opened the cover. The pages were yellow and brittle, but Rosie’s handwriting was clear. She had always used a big, flowery penmanship, and that made it easier to see the faded ink. Rosie started the diary on her sixteenth birthday. A quick glance showed that the entries were sparse, usually every week or two. Most of the entries were brief and inconsequential- school dances, tests, and group dates. Olivia saw familiar names and places on each page.
A few weeks into Rosie’s junior year, the passages got much more interesting. Her sister had always been a good student and a popular teen, but her journal revealed an angst that she had kept hidden from the world. Some of it was typical teenage girl drama- crushes on boys that led to broken hearts and back-stabbing friends.
Rosie and her best friend, Crystal, got into a fight over an unnamed guy. It must’ve been an important guy because according to the journal, the fight ruined their friendship. Several passages talked about Rosie’s lingering hatred for her former friend. Olivia was shocked. She didn’t remember any signs of Rosie and Crystal fighting. But now that she thought back, Crystal hadn’t come around the house those last couple of months. That had been odd, and it was surprising that Olivia hadn’t noticed it at the time. Crystal had been a fixture in their home since she and Rosie met in fourth grade.
A few weeks before Rosie’s murder she gave the details about why the friendship had ended. Crystal had found out that Rosie slept with someone. She had confronted Rosie, and when Rosie had admitted the truth, Crystal had retaliated. She told Dylan about Rosie’s affair, and then told the rest of the school that Rosie was a slut.
I had to take a short break from my reading. The revelation that Rosie hadn’t been a perfect teen after all was making my head spin. I had worshiped my big sister for the first fifteen years of my life, and I’d been protecting that idealized memory of her for the last fifteen years. I wasn’t sure I was ready to let go of that yet.
But as much as I didn’t want my memory of her to be ruined, I wanted to find her killer even more so I kept reading.
In her own words, Rosie admitted there had been another guy in her life. But it hadn’t been quite the sordid affair that Crystal had assumed. It had been something much darker.
I want to tell the truth. Really, I do. In some ways, it would be so much easier if people knew what really happened. But in other ways, it would be so, so much worse. I’m not a virgin. And Crystal was right that I lost my virginity to someone other than Dylan. But it’s not that simple. Life hasn’t been simple since that first time, three years ago.
I was only fifteen. I’d never even kissed a boy. That seems like such a silly thing now, but back then it was so important. I had a list in my head of the boys that I would like to kiss. None of them even knew my name. I was a cute enough girl, but I wasn’t flirty like the other kids in my class. I kept my nose in my schoolbooks. Crystal used to call me her shy friend and when it came to boys, she wasn’t wrong.
But I also loved cheerleading because it let me be someone else. I got to have people pay attention to me, even if it was just for a brief amount of time. And I loved playing tennis. Sometime over the summer before sophomore year, I’d gotten pretty good on the court. Dad had agreed to let me sign up for private lessons once school started up again. I guess that’s when it all started.
Tim McCaffery had been a pro tennis player for four years before a shoulder injury had ruined his hopes of winning Wimbledon. I felt lucky to have him as my instructor. It didn’t hurt that he was a total stud.
He was twenty five and worldly. Over water breaks, he would tell me about the countries he had visited during tournament season. When he talked about Paris, I wanted to go there with him. It was strange because I wasn’t shy around him the way I was with boys my own age. Maybe it was because I knew there wasn’t a chance that he could ever be interested in me that way.
So it’s not really a surprise that I didn’t see it coming. The storm came out of nowhere, and we were out in the open on the courts. Tim suggested we wait it out in his car, and I splashed through the rain puddles behind him. He turned on the car so we could have heat and some music while we waited.
When he reached over to adjust the volume, his hand came down on my thigh, just below the hem of my shorts. I remember that I jumped. I’d never been touched there. I’m ashamed to admit that I liked it at first. I was thrilled that someone like Tim found me appealing in that way.
Maybe if I had stopped him right then, nothing else would’ve happened. Maybe he saw my complacency as encouragement or affirmation. I’ll never know. I do know that his hand slid higher, under my shorts.
“I know you feel the same way as me,” he’d said.
Then he kissed me. It was rough and he even bit hard on my lower lip. It didn’t feel good or exciting or any of the other things I’d imagined for that first kiss. I just wanted it to stop. But he got more aggressive instead. His hand had moved from my leg to under my shirt.
I finally got up the strength to push him away. He smiled and said, “Okay. We can take it slow.”
I still don’t know why I ever went back for the next lesson. It was such a stupid thing to do, but Dad had already paid for the lessons and he would’ve asked why I didn’t want to go. I couldn’t tell him what had happened. So I went back.
He gave me a present. At first, I thought it was his way of apologizing, but then he tried to kiss me again. I pushed him away and started yelling at me. He said that I had been leading him on and flirting with him. He told me I was acting like a child. Then he smacked me. Hard.
When he asked me to get into his backseat, I was scared to object.
That was the first time we had sex. It hurt and made me feel disgusting.
Looking back, I probably could’ve prevented it. I should’ve fought back, ran, anything but agree to be a willing participant.
After that day, I stopped going to lessons. I figured that would solve the problem. But Tim starting showing up other places. He would wait for me in the school parking lot and when I rejected his offer to drive me home, he followed me.
Then he saw Olivia. He threatened to do to her what he did to me if I kept rejecting him.
I stopped fighting.
I stopped believing that things would get better.
I stopped believing that I deserved better.
All I had to do was tell someone. I know that now. Why didn’t I tell Mom or Dad? Why?
It’s too late now. I have to live with the consequences.
I have to live with the baby growing inside me. His baby.
Again, Olivia had to stop reading. Her vision was too blurred by tears and her hands were shaking. How could this have happened to her sister? Why hadn’t Rosie told their parents?
She finished reading the last passages, but they offered no new information. The last entry was a week before her death.
While the journal couldn’t exactly be said to have offered proof as to Rosie’s murderer, it certainly gave Tim plenty of motive.
Olivia wiped away any traces of tears and marched down the hall. Nate had been laying down on her bed, but he sat up quickly when she entered the room.
“Did you find anyth-”
“Rosie was pregnant.” She threw the journal on his lap. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Nate’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Olivia pointed to the journal. “She admits to the pregnancy in there. Surely that would’ve shown up during the autopsy. You must’ve read about it in her file. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Olivia, I didn’t know.” Nate’s head shook slowly as he processed Olivia’s news. “I swear the autopsy report never mentioned a pregnancy.”
“That’s impossible, Nate. Read the journal.”
Olivia sat next to him and fidgeted as he read each entry. It was hard to let someone else invade Rosie’s private thoughts, but Olivia had to put aside her discomfort.
“How did Crystal find out?” Nate asked when he reached the last page. He flipped through a few blank sheets to make sure he wasn’t missing anything.
“What do you mean?”
Nate closed the book and sat it on the bed. “Rosie said that Crystal found out about Tim. How? Your sister said multiple times that she never told anyone.”
“Maybe she caught them in the act?” Olivia guessed.
Nate’s eyes narrowed. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Olivia was up early the next morning. She’d had a lot of trouble sleeping with so much new information swirling in her brain. Also, she’d actually gotten used to having Nate in her bed and it felt strange to sleep without his rhythmic breathing next to her. Not that she would ever admit that to him.
“You’re up early,” Ed said when he joined her in the kitchen.
She was nursing a cup of coffee while waiting for the breakfast casserole to finish baking. Since she was up so early, she’d decided she might as well use the time to make breakfast for her two favorite guys.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said as she poured coffee for her dad.
“Too excited about the big wedding day?” he said with a smirk.
Olivia scoffed. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“Well, at least you have a date for the wedding.” Ed smiled and Olivia could see traces of her old father in the sparkle in his eyes.
“And you?”
She worried about Ed. He was technically still married to her mother, but as far as she knew they were barely on speaking terms. Olivia didn’t like the idea of him growing old alone.
“I’m married, sweetheart,” he said grimly.
“When is the last time you even saw Mom?”
“Last week.”
Of course. Every year since the murder, they had gone to Rosie’s gravesite together as a family. When Olivia moved away, she assumed that had stopped. Apparently she was wrong.
“You two really need to get a divorce.” She was absolutely sure about that.
“You’re the child. You don’t get to tell us what to do.” Ed turned it around on Olivia. “When is the last time you spoke to her?”
That was a good question. While Olivia called her father religiously every Sunday, she had a much looser relationship with her mother. They typically only spoke on holidays and birthdays. “She called on my birthday.”
“I really wish you would make an effort with her. She’s still your mother.” Ed had always hated how Olivia’s relationship with her mother had deteriorated over the years.
“She gave up on us a long time before I gave up on her,” she reminded him. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Well you’re gonna have to face it because she planning on being at the wedding today.”
“But Camilla is your niece!” Olivia was not thrilled at this news.
Ed shook his head sadly. “She’s still your mother’s niece, too. Stop acting like a child.”
“You just told me to act like a child!”
“This is a ridiculous conversation.” Ed drained the rest of his coffee. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
“Dad, I told you-”
Ed held up a hand to stop her. “You can deny it all you want, but it’s fairly obvious. He loves you.”
“I love him, too. As a friend.”
“Sure.”
Olivia’s face flushed hot. She hated when her father acted like he knew better than her. He had only just met Nate. What did he know?”
“He makes you smile, Olivia,” Ed shrugged. “I haven’t been able to make you do that in fifteen years.”
She knew that he was right. Being around her family after the murder had always been sad, because Rosie was no longer there. Rosie’s absence was never more apparent than when the family got together. That was why Olivia had never moved back home after college. Away from Mercy, she could have moments of time that weren’t surrounded in sorrow. Along the way, she’d met Nate and he’d made it his life’s mission to reintroduce joy into her life.
“I smell food,” Nate announced on cue. He stumbled into the room still half-asleep. His hair was a mess and his clothes were rumpled, but Olivia’s heart warmed at the sight of him.
&
nbsp; Ed caught her smile and he nudged her foot under the table. “Fathers just know these things,” he muttered.
Nate looked confused, but he was too distracted by his hunger to comment.
Weddings in Mercy happened early by Chicago standards. They arrived at the church promptly at 10:00 for the 10:30 ceremony. Olivia hoped that by arriving early, they might catch Camilla for a few questions.
Ed went inside to get seats and mingle with family while Nate and Olivia defended the doors like Queen’s guard.
“You look beautiful, Olivia,” Nate said, somewhat shyly. “In case you didn’t know.”
“Thanks.” She felt herself blushing. It was rare to get a genuine compliment from Nate. “You look alright, too.”
Nate preened, straightening an imperceptible crookedness in his tie knot. “I’m adorable.”
She had to admit that he had a point. Usually she was annoyed at the lack of effort he put into his appearance and yet managed to look like a model straight from a cologne ad. Today, she found it endearing.
“Utterly adorable,” she agreed with a small smile.
“Don’t worry. I’ll let you spoon me later.” He grinned smugly. “I know you missed me last night.”
“Ugh.” She groaned. “Just when we were having a nice moment, you had to go and ruin it by being yourself.”
“I think your dad likes me. If fact, he might like me more than he likes you.” Nate was on a roll.
“He was rather impressed by how humble you are,” Olivia said. “Now stop being annoying. I think that’s Camilla.”
A car pulled up in front of the church with Olivia’s cousin crammed into the backseat, surround by heaps of tulle.
“I can really see the family resemblance,” Nate said.
Olivia elbowed him in the side and he grunted.
“Be nice. We need her help, remember?”
It took a lot of effort to free Camilla from the backseat. Two bridesmaids pulled while another pushed. When she finally sprung free, she noticed Olivia watching with mild amusement.
“Olivia!”
She sounded legitimately pleased to see Olivia and it made her feel bad for not being more enthusiastic about her cousin’s wedding. At one time, Camilla had practically been a third sister to Rosie and Olivia.
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