Lies We Tell

by Angel Lawson

  “You didn’t call the police? Tell McMichael? Your parents?” he adds.

  “No.”

  “Why the hell not?” Ezra asks.

  “Because my mom is already a fucking basket case about everything that’s happened. Even yesterday, she suggested that maybe I shouldn’t go on the senior retreat. She’ll send me to boarding school if she finds out about this.”

  “You’d probably be safer there,” Finn says. “Tell them the rest.”

  “There’s more?” Ezra asks, back ramrod straight.

  I explain about the lingerie. Why I thought it was from Finn—the little gifts he leaves me in my room. That we didn’t notice until this morning when I asked him about it. I look at the boy next door. The hurt and anger in his eyes. The fear. The worst part of it all is that it sullies the time we spent together. Our time. The first time.

  “He sent that to you?” Ozzy asks. “Kenley, that’s not okay. It’s creepy as fuck. We have to tell someone.”

  “My mom—”

  “Your mom is right to be worried about you,” Finn shouts. “Someone got into your house. In your bedroom and left you sexy lingerie. God, what if he came in there while you were there?”

  “He didn’t.” I have no idea if he did, but the thought of it is too much.

  “I can’t—” Finn’s jaw slams shut, and he stands as much as he can, stepping over the rest of us to exit the cottage. A moment later, the sound of a tree being snapped in half echoes through the woods.

  Ozzy takes a deep breath. “I’ll go talk to him.”

  He squeezes my knee and walks out.

  Ezra stares at me.

  “Are you mad, too?”

  “No, but I’m scared as fuck. You’ve got a stalker, Kenley. Finn’s right. You have to call McMichael.”

  I know I should, but I don’t exactly know why I haven’t. There’s something about the link to him that keeps the door open for me to find out what Rose was doing. Something I can’t stop thinking about.

  Ezra leans over so that our foreheads are nearly touching.

  “Babe,” he says, “you’ve got a touch of darkness in you. It’s sexy and scary, and it’s why I’m not surprised. You can’t leave this shit alone. Maybe someone knows that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It means that it’s probably unlikely a random guy on SugarBabies would be able to find your name and address, but you’ve put a target on your back the last few months—particularly with powerful men that don’t like nosy girls.”

  The list is short but damning:

  Brice Waller, Mayor.

  Jason Chandler, Beloved Hometown Hero.

  Ezra Baxter, Sr., Powerful Attorney.

  Add in my connection to Monica Chandler, the Channel 8 News, the Chief of Police and all the other pots I’ve been stirring in, Ezra may be right.

  “What do you think they’re trying to do?” I ask.

  “What they always want, to intimidate you.”

  “We need to figure out who BD is.”

  He nods, shoulders resigned. “Yeah, as much as I hate it. I think we do, too.”

  13

  Ozzy

  I step outside the cottage and find Finn pacing a few feet away. He’s got a thick branch in each hand, the middle freshly split.

  “You need to chill out, Bruce Banner.”

  He glares at me and tosses the limbs into the woods. “I hate this.”

  “I know. It’s scary.” It’s terrifying. Some creeper being in Rose’s house? Sending her intimate notes and clothing. It makes me feel sick. “Getting pissed isn’t going to help.”

  “I just…I feel so fucking useless. All of this went on while I was right next door.” He kicks the dirt. “I can’t protect her if she doesn’t talk to me.”

  “You mean like Rose.”

  He frowns and runs his hands through his hair. “Yeah, like Rose, but worse. Kenley is—”

  “Everything,” I finish for him. “I know, and I feel the same way. The idea of someone violating her privacy is disturbing, infuriating, nauseating…I can’t even figure out how to feel.”

  Finn stares up at the trees, his breathing evening out.

  “I told her I love her,” he confesses, “last night when she showed up in my room wearing—” he swallows, “she thought I bought it for her and she wore it for me. We wouldn’t have—”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do know it.” He looks at me. “We’d been taking it slow, and I was really happy to let her set the pace. So when she showed up like that I didn’t think twice, but she wouldn’t have come over if she didn’t think I’d encouraged it.” He grabs his hair. “I tried so fucking hard not to screw this up.”

  “You didn’t,” a voice says.

  We both turn and see Kenley on the cottage steps.

  “Can Finn and I talk for a minute?” she asks.

  “Sure.”

  She grabs me as I walk past. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” I pull her to me and kiss her on the forehead. “I don’t like it, but we’ll figure it out.”

  Kenley gives me a tight smile and walks toward Finn. I know in my heart they have a complicated relationship. A lot of baggage and trust issues. They also love each other hard—too hard, maybe. Rose is the thorn that punctured them deep, and every time something like this happens, it just pours salt in that wound.

  I look back at the two of them. Him angry and lost, her scared and defiant.

  Hopefully they can sort his out.

  14

  Kenley

  “You didn’t screw this up,” I say, walking over to Finn. I stand before him and place both my hands on his hips. “And you need to understand, that what happened with us, I have no regrets.”

  “I wanted you to make the decision about when we slept together. I didn’t want there to be any question.” His hands hang by his side, balled in tight fists. “You thought I sent that to you and that made the decision for you.”

  “Look,” I say, forcing eye contact, “I made that decision because I wanted to. I wanted you. I always have, and I always will. You told me you loved me last night, was that true?”

  His eyes widen. “Of course it’s true. I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a long time.”

  I smile. “Me, too.”

  A bit of the tension rolls off of him and he brings one hand to my side. “I’d been worried I’d scare you off—that it was too soon, or you’d think I only said it to get in your pants.”

  I touch his washboard abs. “All you have to do is show me your stomach and I’ll do pretty much anything.”

  We both laugh, and he throws both his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug.

  “Ironically, if BD bought that for me to wear for him, he wasted his money. I’m glad you’re the one that got to enjoy it.”

  He frowns, clearly not ready for me to joke about it.

  “I hate being manipulated—but most of all I don’t like the idea of someone stalking you like this.”

  “Ezra has some thoughts on it.”

  His eyebrow arches. “He does?”

  “Yeah, sometimes it pays to be friends with a deviant—he thinks like them.”

  He shakes his head. “Are we okay? I’m sorry I got so angry.”

  “You’re emotional, Finn. Passionate. It’s one reason I love you.”

  “It’s not okay if it upsets you.”

  “I’m not upset.”

  He nods and holds my eye. “I love you, Kenley Keene.”

  “I love you too, Finn Holloway.”

  As I say it, I wonder if whoever is behind the BD account knows that, and if that’s one reason why they’re targeting me.

  I look up and see Ezra nudging Ozzy toward us.

  “We need to figure out how they’re getting in the house,” Ezra says. “No break-in?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Do you leave doors unlocked?” Ozzy asks.

  Again, I shake her head.
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  “What about through the window?” Finn asks. “That’s how I got in. You don’t always lock it.”

  “You think someone’s breaking into your house, then jumping across the houses and breaking into my room?” I grimace. “That seems even too risky for this asshole.”

  “Well,” Finn runs his hand through his hair, “there’s the key under your porch. Maybe someone knows about it.”

  “I don’t know who—seriously, it’s just something my mom left out there for me when I was in middle school if she wasn’t at home. I haven’t used it in years, definitely not since I started driving.” I think for a second and then it hits me. My eyes pop wide. “You know who would know?”

  “Who?” Ezra asks eagerly.

  “Rose. She would have known.”

  Ozzy frowns. “Tell me you don’t think Rose is alive and breaking into your room.”

  I don’t confess that I think it’s possible that Rose is alive—somewhere. “No, but what if she told Chandler? Or her parents? It could be any of the Thistle Cove Three.”

  “The who?” Finn asks.

  “That’s what I’ve started to call them. The Thistle Cove Three. It’s not nearly as nefarious as it should be.”

  Once again, we’re back where we started. Everything always circles back to them. I have no doubt one of them was in my room and leaving me those things—probably just to freak me out.

  I need to know who and why, and I don’t plan on stopping until I know the truth.

  I think I know exactly where to start.

  Since we’re officially absent from school, we agree it’s time to deal with one part of the mystery head on.

  East Point Suites.

  My house is empty when we go back, but I still feel like a sneak when I go through the back door and run up to my room. My eyes immediately fall on the bed, but there’s no new box or a gift. Thank god.

  I walk over to the bookshelf and pull out the Eden book. I start to take just the card but decide to bring the whole book with me.

  I walk back out the back door, put the key back under the porch decking, and run to the car. The boys wait for me. Ozzy in the front seat. Finn and Ezra crammed in the back. I pass Ozzy the book. “The card’s inside.”

  He looks at the cover curiously then flips through the pages. The card falls into his lap.

  Ezra reaches over the front seat. “I’ve seen this before.”

  “Where?” Finn asks.

  I drive down the road, pulling out of the neighborhood, headed for the main highway. I’d found the book and key in Rose’s bedroom with Finn. I never showed it to the other guys.

  “My dad keeps this stack of cards in the kitchen. I swear I’ve seen one of these in his things.”

  I pull off to the side of the road and slam on my breaks.

  “Ken!” Ozzy shouts, seat belt cutting into his chest.

  “Sorry!” I turn and pick through the trash in my console. Gum wrappers, change, my “car scissors,” a tube of lavender lotion, three Chapstick tubes…

  “What are you looking for?” Ozzy asks.

  I look up at him. “Remember a few months ago, we were in the backseat and you found all those cards on the floorboard.”

  His forehead scrunches under his cap. “Vaguely.”

  “You put them in here.” I toss out a wad of napkins. “I took them from Ezra’s house.”

  “What? Why?” Ezra asks, leaning over.

  “I was being nosy. You dad walked in—you know the time he gave me a scathing lecture about how you were too busy and focused to have a girlfriend. A fuck buddy, sure, but not a girlfriend.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  My fingers brush the stack of cards that had been sitting there for months.

  “When he walked in, I shoved these in my pocket. They fell in the backseat of floorboard and Ozzy shoved them in here. I never thought about them again.”

  I sort through them. It only takes a second to find the hard, plastic, electronic keycard. It matches the one from Rose’s book. In the corner of hers it has a small stamped #214. Mr. Baxter’s is blank.

  “I wonder if they’re to the same room,” Finn says.

  “We’ll have to find out.”

  I fan out the cards and a second one catches my attention.

  It’s made of shiny, thick, black paper with red lettering and a logo on the front. The Dollhouse.

  “Fuck.” Ezra grimaces, but he doesn’t look surprised.

  “You knew?”

  “About The Dollhouse, yes—kind of. I found a matchbook in his bedroom. I didn’t know about East Point Suites, but nothing about that man is shocking.”

  “So you’ve been sitting on both keycards for months,” Ozzy asks me.

  “Yes, it appears so.”

  He shakes his head. “No more secrets.”

  “I promise.”

  The boys in the back nod in agreement. I shift the car in gear and press the gas. We’d started this with the goal of finding out who belonged to the suite in the city. We may already know. I glance in the rearview mirror at Ezra, watching him glare out the window. If his father was involved with Rose…well, that turns this whole case upside down.

  The East Point Suites are connected to one of the newer developments in the area. It’s mixed use—apartment, condos, townhouses, interspersed with shopping and dining. The Suites seem to be long-term rentals, somewhere between a hotel and an apartment.

  “It’s probably not still rented,” Finn says. “If it was Rose’s, I mean. Why would they keep it if she’s gone?”

  “That’s the question I guess,” I say, twisting to see him. One question of a million questions.

  Ezra opens the door. “I guess we should find out.”

  He walks ahead of us, shoulders tense. We started this to find out about Rose, but Ezra may discover information about his dad he doesn’t want to know.

  “Ez,” I call, “you don’t have to do this.”

  “Yeah, KK, I do.”

  We wait at the elevator bank and a woman walks up, carrying a bag from one of the boutiques we passed around the corner. She’s young—maybe college-age—and dressed very nicely. Her light brown hair stick-straight and her sunglasses wide and oval, nails fake and filed sharp. Even wearing glasses, it’s obvious that she checks out the boys, particularly Ezra. He’s oblivious, lost in his own thoughts, and doesn’t look her way.

  The bell announces the car and we all go inside. I press the second floor and I look at her.

  “Same. Two.”

  The ride is quick, and we file off. Suite 214 is to the left. The woman goes to the right.

  We walk down the carpeted hallway and stop in front of the door.

  “Do we knock?” Ozzy asks.

  “Try the key.”

  “Which one?” Ezra asks. He’s holding both.

  “Rose’s. We’re here to find out about her.”

  My heart pounds as he presses the magnetic strip over the pad and a light blinks; first red, then flips to green. Ezra turns the handle and the door opens.

  “Shit,” Finn mutters. I reach over and take his hand, to steady him and myself.

  The apartment has no specific smell—just like a standard hotel room. The front room is a living room; a gray couch, striped rug, two leather end chairs. A brushed metal coffee table sits in the middle of the seating arrangement. A flat screen on the wall. A counter top with barstools separates the kitchen from the living area. Ozzy walks ahead, into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. To all of our surprise, it’s fully stocked. Drinks, milk, fruit, containers of yogurt. He reaches inside and pulls out the milk.

  “The date’s still good.”

  “Someone lives here,” Ezra says.

  “Maybe it’s not Rose? Maybe she was replaced?” Ozzy tosses out.

  I pass them, walking down the narrow hallway. To the left is the bathroom. The right a large bedroom. Ezra follows me, stepping into the bathroom and flipping on the light. I face the bedroom. A sma
ll lamp has been left on by the bed, lighting the room. I walk to the closet and open it. There are belongings inside.

  Women’s clothing, similar to Rose’s style. I should call Finn in to see if he recognizes anything, but I don’t. My stomach hurts.

  “There are drugs in the bathroom cabinet,” Ezra says. “Unmarked bottles.”

  “And booze in the kitchen,” Ozzy calls out.

  I sit on the end of the bed, trying to settle my stomach. I look up and see a photograph on the dresser. My heart skips. I’ve seen the picture before—or one like it. Dark water stretches in the horizon, contrasting against the glaring white of the boat. The other pictures had Rose and Juliette, their parents. Ezra and Mr. Baxter.

  This only has two of them.

  Rose, tan and in her checkered bikini—the Claddagah charm against her warm skin, and an arm hanging gently over her shoulders.

  Ezra looks in the room, face so similar to his father’s.

  “Find anything?”

  I point to the picture, to the man with Rose, and say, “Yeah, your dad.”

  Ezra walks out of the apartment, jaw tight, shoulders tense. I start to follow.

  “Give him a second, Ken,” Ozzy says, holding me back. “It’s a lot to process.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Mr. Baxter is Rose’s Sugar Daddy. The one taking care of her, paying for this apartment, giving her money…the one she threatened to leave Thistle Cove over.

  Mr. Baxter.

  I shudder, thinking about the times I’d spent alone with him. The uncomfortable way I felt when he looked at me. Did Rose like that? Is that what she wanted?

  Finn’s sitting on a bar stool, face pale. “Are you okay?”

  He runs his hands through his hair. “She was sleeping with Coach Chandler and Mr. Baxter? I don’t get it.”

  I’m not sure I do either, but that’s what this is all about, right? Not understanding Rose? Or trying to understand her?

  There’s a difference here, something I don’t want to say out loud to Finn. I know seeing more evidence that Rose cheated on him has to be a punch in the gut, regardless of where things stood at the end. No one wants to feel like a fool. What I find most interesting is that it’s a photo of just Rose and Mr. Baxter.