On Shadow Beach (31 page)

“It doesn’t sound like Abby knew she was heading into danger.”

“She was a little on edge, but nothing out of the ordinary. At least I didn’t think so. Later I wondered if there was something I’d missed, something that I should have seen. I felt horrible for leaving her alone in that parking lot, and not telling you what had happened compounded my guilt. I wasn’t just carrying my mother’s lie around anymore; I was also carrying my own. I wanted to be there for you, Lauren. But you were so angry with me, and then all the speculation arose about Abby and me. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to say as little as possible, but that only made things worse. And then you left.”

She let out a long breath, realizing she’d been holding it for some time. “I never imagined that your lie had such deep roots. I needed to blame someone for the horror that had become my life, and you were
handy. When you wouldn’t talk to me, it drove me crazy. That last day, I almost took a swing at you.”

“It probably would have made us both feel better.”

“I hated you all the way up the coast. I tried to hang on to that feeling for a long time, because while I hated you, I also missed you like crazy. I’d tell myself that I was a fool, that you had hit on my sister, that you were a liar and a cheat—but then a part of me wouldn’t believe it, and I’d make up excuses. I went around and around in circles.”

“I’m surprised you gave me that much thought. I figured out of sight, out of mind.”

“Well, you figured wrong. Our relationship wasn’t that trivial. Maybe it was for you—”

“It wasn’t,” he said, cutting her off. “I couldn’t forget you, Lauren. I’d keep myself busy during the days, but at night I’d think about you, and wish things could have been different.”

She wanted to believe he’d been equally as devastated by their breakup, but it was difficult. She’d worn her heart on her sleeve, while Shane had kept his in hiding. But they’d been teenagers caught up in the throes of first love. Their breakup had come during a time of tragedy. Every emotion she’d had was heightened by Abby’s death: the love, the hate, the guilt . . . It had eaten her up for weeks. But eventually she’d gone on, and so had Shane.

“Did you ever find out who your father is?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. After Abby’s murder, I was on the hot seat. I couldn’t breathe without someone writing it down. I was followed all over town. It was ironic that at one point I thought I might have to get a lawyer, maybe Harrigan or Miller, but my dad talked to someone else for me. Once I could leave town, I left. I didn’t think I’d ever come back.”

“I didn’t think I would, either,” she said. “But here we are.”

“Here we are.”

As they stared at each other, the air seemed to crackle between them. Lauren could feel the pull and tried to resist, but it was impossible.

She reached out and cupped his face with her hands. Shane had truly been the black sheep, the one who didn’t belong, the outcast—no wonder he’d started to act that way. She kissed him on the mouth, lingering there for a long moment, wanting to show him what she couldn’t put into words.

When she lifted her head, she said, “Thanks for telling me.” He’d finally given her what she’d always wanted from him—trust. “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll say something and destroy your family?”

He gave her a small smile. “No, because I know you. Your heart is big and generous and kind.”

Her eyes blurred with emotion. “Why did you tell me now? As you said, your mother’s affair and your trip to the law offices had nothing to do with Abby’s death. I didn’t need to know.”

“I didn’t want there to be any more secrets between us.”

“Really?” Her pulse quickened with anticipation and fear. Things were happening too fast, and she could see where this was headed. She could hear the words she’d wanted him to say hovering on his lips . . . but she couldn’t let him speak; not now. She wasn’t ready.

She scrambled to her feet, and was halfway down the tree before he called after her.

“Lauren, wait.”

She ignored his command, jogging out to the sidewalk. He caught up to her at the end of the driveway. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“I can walk—it’s only a few blocks.”

“I’m not letting you walk home alone—not after what happened to Mark Devlin last night.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, but he stayed right on her heels. “Erica Sorensen is in custody.”

“Her husband isn’t. Dammit, Lauren. Why are you running away from me?”

“I’m not running away, I’m just going home.”

He grabbed her arm and forcibly stopped her. “That’s crap and you know it. Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

His demand was mind-boggling and oh, so ironic. “Do you know how many times I asked you to tell me what you were thinking, to say three simple words, ‘I love you,’ but you never did? I’d declare myself, and you’d smile or kiss me or change the subject. You always wanted to keep your options open.”

“I was eighteen.”

“You’re not a teenager anymore, but what’s really changed? You live on a boat. You don’t have any roots. You can leave at a moment’s notice, and you probably will.”

“Or I can stay forever,” Shane said.

“Really? You, the ultimate wanderer? I don’t think so.”

“Why don’t we stop talking about me and focus on you? What do
you
want, Lauren? Do you even know?” he challenged.

“No—I don’t,” she answered. “I’m tempted to stay here. My dad needs me, and I love being with Charlotte and Kara again, and it feels more like home than I thought it would.”

“And me?” he asked. “Where do I fit in?”

She sucked in a quick breath and let it out. “I look at you, and I think maybe I could have everything I ever wanted. But then I remind myself that it’s you, and you hurt me, and that getting over you was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I can’t do it again.”

“Who says you would have to?”

“Are you saying I wouldn’t? Are you really ready to put it all on the line, Shane?” His hesitation was all she needed to hear. “I didn’t think so.”

“You’re the one who’s running away now. Do
you
want to put it all on the line?”

“No, I don’t. I can’t, and we shouldn’t have this conversation until we know how we want to finish it.”

She yanked her arm away and walked home,
his long shadow following close behind. He didn’t speak; neither did she. She told herself that’s the way she wanted it.

But she was a liar. She wanted so much more.

Later that night Lauren sat cross-legged on Abby’s bed, the yearbook photos spread out across the comforter. She was tired, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep with so much on her mind. She still felt rattled by Shane’s confession, and that he’d finally put his trust in her. He hadn’t just put himself on the line, but also his family: she could destroy the Murrays with just a few words. He’d taken a big risk . . .

So why was she so scared to take one?

Because a part of her felt that she was so close to the biggest dream she’d ever had for herself, and another part of her said she was a fool to think that divulging his secret meant Shane loved her.

The real question was, did she love him?

She’d gotten to know him as the man he was now, and he’d gotten to know her. They had their own life experiences, and while they’d moved on in many ways, they’d never really moved past each other.

Maybe they never would. Maybe like Leonora
and Tommy, they were destined for each other.

Leonora and Tommy hadn’t gotten their happy ending, but they hadn’t been afraid to go for it. Why was she such a coward?

With a sigh, she made herself concentrate on the photos. The last stack had been taken at awards night. Most of the shots were of people she didn’t recognize. The last few had been shot outside the school, with lots of kids milling around a dessert table.

Her breath caught as she pulled a torn photo out of the stack. It had been ripped in two, a third of it missing. In the portion remaining was Tim Sorensen. He was standing on the outskirts of the crowd, and he had his arm around someone. She could see a pink sweater, a feminine shoulder, but that was it. Tim was looking down at whoever he was holding, and his gaze was extremely serious.

Lauren’s heart skipped a beat. Was he looking down at Abby? Had someone else taken the photo with Abby’s camera? Had Abby seen the picture and ripped it in two, so that no one would know about her relationship?

That pink sweater looked familiar . . . like one she’d taken out of the closet the other night and put in the trash bag for charity. Lauren rushed over to the bags and opened one after another, going through each one until she found the sweater. She held up the sleeve, comparing it to the photo.

Her heart sank. It was a match.

She tossed the sweater back on top of the bag and sat on the bed. Her mind was racing, but really, what did she have? A lot of girls could have had a similar sweater. And she didn’t
know
that it was Abby in the shot, though it certainly seemed likely.

She rolled her neck back and forth, feeling the crack of her tight muscles. It was late. She needed to sleep. She gathered up the rest of the photos and put them in the envelope, then she glanced over at her side of the room. The sheets and blankets that she’d tossed there a few days earlier reminded her that she really needed to get over the last hurdle and make up her bed.

She shivered at the thought, or maybe it was the cold. She could hear the wind howling and the scrape of the tree branches hitting the window.

Abby had hated those branches. In the moonlight, she’d thought the tree outside their room looked like a monster with a hundred arms.

But it was just a tree, Lauren reminded herself. And it wasn’t an imaginary monster that had hurt Abby; it was a human, and probably someone she’d trusted.

Feeling more chilled, she went to the old wall heater, turned the knob, and waited to see if it would come on. It had always been erratic, and most nights she and Abby would give up and just grab another blanket.

Squatting down, she put her hand in front of the slats to see if any warm air was coming through the vent.

She couldn’t feel anything—but she could see something red between the slats. Her gaze narrowed; her pulse sped up. She pulled on the front panel of the heater, but it resisted. She tugged harder, and it finally came off. Tossing it aside, she stared in amazement at the red cover of Abby’s journal.

Adrenaline roared through her veins. She’d found it! Abby must have stashed it there before she left that night.

Lauren was terrified to open it. Would she finally learn the truth?

With a shaky hand, she pulled the journal out and sat on the floor at the foot of her bed. Her hand trembled as she opened to the first page. Abby had never wanted her to read her private thoughts. Was it wrong to read them now?

But if she didn’t read it, how could she help Abby? She couldn’t turn the book over to the cops without knowing what was in it. She had to protect her sister.

This journal began seven months before Abby was killed. Lauren drew in a hard breath. Thankfully, the early entries weren’t scary; they were just rambling thoughts about whatever was going through Abby’s head. She talked about wanting to become a marine biologist, fishing trips with Dad, a zit on her forehead.

Lauren began to relax. She could see Abby now, hear her voice through the words on the page. She’d begun to think Abby’s life was a dark, shadowy place of horror, but she could see now that wasn’t
the case. It was ordinary. It was a little boring, and sometimes it was really, really sweet. Lauren teared up when Abby talked about her, about hoping Shane was treating her right. She’d never known her younger sister had ever worried about her. She’d been so determined to forget the pain that she’d forgotten everything else, and now it was coming back.

As she neared the entries from the days preceding Abby’s death, the tone of the journal changed. Abby’s thoughts were restless, yearning. She talked about a boy she simply called J. Though a lot of the people in the journal were only referred to by their initials, it quickly became clear that J was Jason Marlow.

Abby wrote about how much she liked him, but he only had eyes for Kara. She mentioned a dance where she and Lisa had found him drinking with some other kids, deep in the trees outside the high school. He’d given her a beer, and she’d taken it because she wanted to fit in.

Abby wrote how happy she was when Jason put his arm around her. When he kissed her, her heart was beating so fast she thought she might have a heart attack. They’d gotten into his car and he’d put his hands on her breasts, and she thought it was wrong, but she didn’t care, because she really, really liked him. But the next day he didn’t even talk to her, and Abby wondered if he even remembered being with her. As the weeks passed, she realized that it hadn’t meant anything to him, but she still liked him. Maybe one day he’d ask her out again.

Lauren felt a wave of anger toward Jason. He shouldn’t have taken advantage of her sister like that, and obviously they’d been more than just friends as he’d claimed.

Lauren skimmed the next couple of pages as Abby veered into discussions of marine life. Then her focus turned to Lisa.

“I’m worried about L,”
she wrote.
“She’s drinking too much and making out with everyone. I know she has this big, crazy need to be loved. She doesn’t think her parents love her, especially her dad, who ran out on her. But I’m afraid for her. She’s doing stupid, dangerous things. I keep telling her to stop. This isn’t her, but she’s not listening to me. She’s listening to other people, people who don’t love her like I do.”

Lauren frowned as she turned to the next page.

“I feel like I’m not being a good friend. I have to find a way to make L stop, before she gets in trouble. She thinks she’s in love with Coach, but he’s not in love with her. And he’s married. He’s not going to leave his wife for a fifteen-year-old girl. She’s going to hate me, but I have to stop her. I have to stop him. This isn’t right. He’s using her; he’s going to hurt her, I know it.”