One of Us Is Next (26 page)

I hover next to the door after it closes, and Detective Mendoza clears his throat. “Phoebe, I’ve already explained this to your mother, but you are not being accused of anything related to this evening’s events. Your presence for the entirety of tonight is accounted for. However, we’d like your cooperation as we build the case against Jared Jackson, and to do that effectively we need to understand your relationship with him.”

“My…what?” I wish I had my cup of water back. My throat is suddenly so dry that it hurts. “I don’t have a
relationship
with him. I only just learned his name downstairs.”

“We’ve spent the past hour interviewing Mr. Jackson about his motivations for tonight’s events at Talia’s Restaurant. We also seized his phone, which he claims has months’ worth of correspondence with you. He says he met you in an online forum called Vengeance Is Mine in late December, that the two of you bonded over family tragedies, and eventually agreed to, as he put it,
take out
one another’s enemies. Mr. Jackson says he fulfilled his end of the bargain when he executed a texting-based Truth or Dare game at Bayview High that led to Brandon Weber’s death earlier this month.”

My legs suddenly go weak, and I barely make it into the corner chair. “I don’t understand. Brandon…what about Brandon?” I dart my eyes toward Mom, who stirs beside Emma’s bed like a sleepwalker trying to wake up.

“Wait. Brandon Weber?” she asks thickly. “You didn’t mention him before.”

Detective Mendoza looks down at a notepad in his hand. “According to Mr. Jackson, he used gossip about Bayview High students—yourself and your sister included—to kick the game off.” He glances up at me briefly, then back at his notes. “The actions that led to Brandon Weber’s death were the result of a Dare issued to him. Mr. Jackson made use of his background in construction work to remove supports from beneath that landing, causing Brandon to fall to his death. In return, you were supposed to help Mr. Jackson get revenge on Eli Kleinfelter, for putting Mr. Jackson’s brother in jail. However, Mr. Jackson says you fell out of touch after Brandon Weber’s death, and became unresponsive to his attempts to contact you. Thus tonight’s attack. He decided to take matters into his own hands, and conclude the deal without you.”

Unresponsive to his attempts to contact you. We need to talk.
That’s what the note I got at Café Contigo yesterday said. If I’m understanding Detective Mendoza correctly, Jared Jackson must have sent that. And set up the entire Truth or Dare game…for me. Which makes no sense whatsoever. Even putting aside the insane idea that I’d agree to hurt Eli—how could a person I’ve never met believe I made a deal with him? And that I wanted Brandon
dead
?

I’m going to be sick. “No. That’s not…I wouldn’t in a million years do anything like that,” I say. An image flashes through my brain of Brandon in my apartment, assaulting me and hurling insults. In that instant, I hated him. Did I tell the wrong person? Who did I tell? How could Jared Jackson even know about it, or about me? “Why would I? Brandon and I aren’t…we didn’t get along all the time, but he wasn’t my
enemy.
”

Detective Mendoza’s tone doesn’t change: calm and unemotional, like his notes are a textbook he’s using to teach a class. “Mr. Jackson says you told him how Brandon Weber contributed to your father’s death by causing a forklift to malfunction during a critical point in its operation.”

Everything inside me stills. I forget how to breathe. The tears that had been gathering behind my eyes freeze. My heart, which was just pounding loudly in my ears, is suddenly so silent that I wonder, briefly, if I’m dead.

“What.” I push the word through numb lips, cold and flat. It doesn’t seem like enough. There have to be more words. I search my brain for them. “Did. You say.”

A strangled cry bursts out of Mom. “I never wanted you kids to know, Phoebe. What was the point of knowing something like that? I’m so sorry I didn’t prepare you for it. But you could have
talked
to me. Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Brandon.
Dad.
This is a nightmare. I’m asleep and having the worst dream of my entire life. I pinch my arm, as hard as I can. I don’t even feel it, but I don’t wake up, either.

“I didn’t,” I finally say. “Know any of that.”

“According to Mr. Jackson, the two of you discussed this in great detail,” Detective Mendoza says. “When you first told him about the accident, he looked you up online and saw media coverage of your mother’s wedding planning business. That’s why he proposed the revenge pact—he knew you could provide access to Mr. Kleinfelter.” For the first time, Detective Mendoza’s voice gets the tiniest bit gentle. “You were still processing a traumatic revelation when you met him. The law understands that, especially when we have your full cooperation. Can we count on that?”

“No.”
My voice gains strength, finally, because the hell with this. The only thing I know for sure right now is that I had no clue who Jared Jackson was before tonight. “Jared Jackson is wrong, or lying. I never met him online or in person. I didn’t know Brandon had anything to do with what happened to my dad until
right this second.
” Everything’s coming unglued now: tears fall, my heart accelerates, and my voice shakes. “I didn’t do any of this.”

“Then how would Jared know that Brandon was involved in your father’s accident, Phoebe?” Detective Mendoza asks. Not like he’s mad. More like he’s genuinely curious.

I open my mouth. Close it.

“I told him.”

I blink, utterly confused. Did I just say that?

Detective Mendoza’s head swivels from me to Emma’s bed. My eyes follow. She’s sitting up, pale but alert. Her hand is folded in my mother’s. “I told him,” she repeats in a low voice. “And I told him I was Phoebe.”

Mom’s face goes rigid with shock as Detective Mendoza moves closer to the foot of the bed. “Are you saying you executed this revenge pact with Jared Jackson, Emma?” he asks.

“I…no,” Emma says haltingly. “Not like you said. I met him online, and I pretended to be my sister because I was mad at her for…other stuff.” She flicks a glance at me, and I flush. “And I told him what happened to my dad and he—he said we could help one another.” Emma’s voice trembles as she pulls her hand from Mom’s and starts fumbling with the edge of her hospital blanket. “But he never mentioned Eli. I had no idea they even knew one another. And as soon as the Truth or Dare game started, I
hated
it. I regretted everything. I told Jared to shut it down, and he said he would.”

Her voice shakes harder, and her eyes fill. “But the game kept going. I didn’t understand why, but I was afraid to get in touch with Jared again. I kept hoping he’d get bored and stop. And Brandon…” Emma lets out a choked cry as tears spill down her cheeks. “Brandon wasn’t supposed to die.”

I hear my own sharp intake of breath as Detective Mendoza asks, “What was supposed to happen to Brandon?” The gentler tone from before is entirely gone.

Emma hesitates, and my mother speaks before she can. “That might be enough for now,” Mom says, the shell-shocked look on her face slipping away. Her shoulders straighten, like something’s finally clicking into place, as she adds, “I think we should hold off on any further conversation until we have a lawyer present.”

Maeve

Saturday, March 28

“Ladies and gentlemen, here they are. Being introduced for the first time as husband and wife, please welcome Eli Kleinfelter and Ashton Prentiss!”

The crowd in the hotel ballroom gets to its feet for a standing ovation as Eli leads Ashton onto the dance floor. Everyone is clapping so loudly that we nearly drown out the music. Last night, Ashton and Eli told everyone that they still planned to get married today but understood completely if people didn’t want to come.

We all did, down to the last guest. Except the Lawtons. The wedding is basically uncoordinated at this point, because Mrs. Lawton has her hands full elsewhere.

Nobody knows what really happened between Emma Lawton and Jared Jackson. Eli was only able to get bits and pieces of information last night and this morning. From what he can tell, Emma stumbled across paperwork for her father’s worker’s comp settlement shortly after Christmas. She was angry enough to look for Simon’s old revenge forum, where she met Jared Jackson and told him what Brandon had done. Jared raised the idea of a revenge pact, and Emma didn’t immediately shut him down. But after that, it gets murky.

According to Eli, Emma says she stopped talking to Jared right after the Truth or Dare game launched. She insists she didn’t know Brandon was going to die, or that Eli was a target. And Jared insists that she did.

The rest of us are just waiting for the truth to come out.

I don’t know how Eli managed to worry about Knox and me in the middle of all this, but he made sure we knew that Phoebe’s only involvement was Emma using her name. “Phoebe is no longer a person of interest to the police,” he told us.

Phoebe herself texted Knox and me right before we left for the wedding:

I love you both.

Thanks for what you did.

I’m so glad you’re ok.

I can’t say anything else right now so please don’t ask.

I’m sorry.

I wish things were different, and that she could have been part of today. Ashton and Eli’s wedding ceremony turned out to be the perfect antidote to yesterday’s trauma. Watching them exchange their vows reminded everybody that love and hope and beauty still exist, even when things seem impossibly dark. My mood has been lifting steadily all day, and now that Ashton and Eli are moving across the dance floor—unsteadily, because Eli
cannot
dance, but beaming at one another—I almost feel normal.

Addy, who was in tears for most of last night, stands smiling at the edge of the dance floor in a beautiful, ice-blue maid of honor’s dress. She’s holding a bouquet of white roses in one hand, and the arm of cute groomsman-slash-molecular-biologist Daniel with the other. He bends toward her ear and says something that makes her laugh so hard that she almost drops her flowers.

“Ashton looks gorgeous,” Bronwyn says. She’s standing beside me at our reception table, her hand firmly in Nate’s. I don’t think she’s let go of him since he was discharged from the hospital this morning. Nate’s the least formally dressed of us all, since he couldn’t manage to get anything except a T-shirt over his sling. Surgeons removed five chunks of metal from his left arm last night, and he’s bandaged up to his shoulder. He’ll have scars for life, probably, but he’s incredibly lucky that he doesn’t have nerve damage.

And that he works for Mr. Myers. Knox’s dad came to the hospital last night to let Mrs. Macauley know that the company’s disability policy will cover Nate’s salary while he recuperates.

“For how long?” Mrs. Macauley asked nervously.

“As long as it takes,” he replied.

Now, Nate grins at Bronwyn and me. “Eli looks like he’s about to keel over.”

“I’m pretty sure this is his first time on a dance floor,” I say.

Nate nods. “I believe it.”

Bronwyn gazes around the crowded ballroom. “Where’s your date?” she asks me.

“Talking to Mom and Dad,” I say, pointing a few tables over to where Mom is smiling brightly at Luis and Dad just clapped him on the shoulder.

My sister scowls as she watches them. “Oh, this is so not fair. Luis has been your boyfriend for five minutes and they’re already falling all over him. It took a year before Mom and Dad even
started
to warm up to…” She glances toward Nate, who’s still on her other side, and catches herself. “Anyone else.”

Nate slips his good arm around her waist and pulls her close, nuzzling her neck. “What are you talking about?” he teases. “Your parents love me. Always have.”

The DJ picks up his microphone again as the music changes to a pulsing beat. “Everyone, please join the happy couple on the dance floor!”

Kris grabs hold of Cooper’s hand and starts to pull. “Come on. You’d better get ready, because I am a dancing machine at weddings. We’re not stopping until the music does.”

Cooper blinks as he follows. “There’s still so much I don’t know about you, isn’t there?”

“Let’s dance,” Bronwyn says to Nate.

“Can’t.” He holds up his bandaged arm. “I’m injured.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Your
legs
aren’t.”

Nate grimaces and raises a hand to his forehead. “I feel dizzy all of a sudden,” he says, sinking into the chair behind him. “I think I might pass out.” When Bronwyn leans over him with a worried expression, he grabs her around the waist and pulls her onto his lap. “I probably need CPR. You’re certified, right?”

“You’re the worst,” Bronwyn complains, but she’s already started kissing him before she finishes the sentence.

I look over at my parents’ table, where Luis is still making polite conversation. Another check mark in his pro column: Good with Parents. I’d suggest he give Nate lessons, but I think the whole
sacrificing himself to save Bronwyn
deal might’ve finally won them over. When Mom looks our way, she doesn’t even glare at the makeout session happening to my right.

Luis and I spot one another at the same time, and I can’t help but smile when he heads toward me. That boy in a suit—wow.

We meet up on the edge of the dance floor, and he holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” I say. He spins me deftly so my skirt twirls in a glittering circle before he pulls me close. I put my head on his chest, breathing in his clean, soapy smell, and he brings his lips to my ear.

“How are you?”

It’s a hard question to answer. I tilt my head so I can meet his eyes. “Right this second, really good. Today was beautiful. In general, though…” A shiver goes through me, raising goose bumps all over my body. “Things aren’t great, are they? I’m scared for Ashton and Eli and everybody he works with. Nobody knows what’s going on with Emma. And Brandon is still gone.” My voice breaks a little. “If we’d figured out who Jared was sooner…”

Luis’s arms tighten around me. “There’s no possible way you could have seen into that guy’s head any earlier than you did. Don’t even go there. You did great, Maeve. You saved lives, you know. You and Knox.”

That part doesn’t seem real yet. My brain won’t let me imagine an alternate scenario where we don’t get Jared’s backpack away from the restaurant. “I guess.” I want to feel something good, something happy, so I wind my arms around Luis’s neck and rise up on my toes to steal a soft kiss from his lips.

“One of these days,” he says when I pull away, “I’m going to put the moves on you first.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. It worked; my mood is lifting again. “Looking forward to it.”

“Maybe when I take you on a real date.”

I look around. “Is that not what this is?”

“Nah, there’s too many other people. Plus we’ve been stuck inside all day. You know how I feel about inside.”

“You’re unnaturally prejudiced against it, yes. Where would you go instead? If, for example, we decided to do something tomorrow?”

“La Jolla Cove,” he says instantly. “I’d take you kayaking.”

I gulp. Oh God, not the beach. And the
ocean.
But then again, maybe all that would be different with Luis. A lot of things are. Still, I narrow my eyes at him. “Kayaking? Sounds like work.”

“I’ll do it all,” he promises.

“Is this what dating you is going to be like? You’ll just cart me around various scenic areas in greater San Diego?” It doesn’t sound bad, actually.

He grins. “I’ll teach you how to kayak, if you want. It’s fun, I swear. My family goes all the time in the summer. They’d love for you to come.”

I like the direction of this conversation, but…“I might not be here then,” I say. His eyebrows rise. “I think I’m going to apply to be a counselor at this school in Peru with Addy. If I get accepted, I’d be there all of July and August.”

I’d been thinking about the possibility ever since I saw that brochure at Addy’s apartment, and even more after getting a clean bill of health from Dr. Gutierrez. Last night, when I couldn’t sleep, I tried to count up the positive things that have come out of this horrible experience. Luis, definitely. Becoming friends with Phoebe. Learning that Knox and I will always be able to count on one another. And believing enough in my future to make plans for it.

“Two whole months? Damn.” Here comes Luis’s disappointed face again, until he shakes it off with a regretful smile. “I mean, that sounds great. Obviously. Just make sure you come back.”

“I will. I promise.” Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of a familiar figure alone at an empty table. I’ve been keeping tabs on Knox, because every once in a while his cheerful façade cracks, and he starts drooping under the weight of last night. Now looks like one of those times. I pull away from Luis and squeeze his arm. “I’m just going to check on Knox, okay? He looks like he could use some company.”

“Sure,” Luis says. I turn to go, but he tugs me back and cups my cheek, bending down to plant a slow, lingering kiss on my lips. My breath catches in my throat, and when he pulls away he’s smiling. “That’s one.”

“Yeah, well. You still have some catching up to do.” I blow him a kiss over my shoulder and head for Knox.

When I reach him he’s standing, a folded napkin in one hand. “Hey,” he says. “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“What? No! The reception just got started.”

“I know, but—I’m wiped.” Knox loosens the knot on his tie and tugs it downward. His hair is messy, his eyes shadowed with dark circles. “It’s been a long day. Plus I thought I’d see how Phoebe’s doing, and bring her some cake.” He lifts the napkin in his hand, and now I notice the pearly white frosting poking through.

“They cut the cake already?” I ask. “How did I miss that?”

“They didn’t,” Knox says. “But one of the servers told me there’s extra in the kitchen in case anyone wants to take some home. She gave me a slice to give to Phoebe.”

“That’s really nice of you.” Impulsively, I step forward and squeeze his free hand. “You’re a good friend, you know that?”

At some point, probably soon, our weird romantic history is going to leak outside of the Bayview gossip circles. The Jared Jackson story is huge, and reporters are already sniffing around for details. Mikhail Powers’s crew has been calling my house nonstop. Mikhail himself even sent a giant bouquet of colorful, exotic flowers with a note:
My deepest admiration and respect, always, to the strong young women of the Rojas family.

“Don’t be swayed by his charm,” Bronwyn lectured when I told her. Mikhail Powers has coaxed my sister into interviews more than once. They never go badly, but she always tells herself afterward that she’s not going to do it again. Until she does. “If you do talk to him, though, tell him I said hi.”

I don’t plan on it. But I’ve lived through a media circus before, when Simon died. People won’t rest until every Truth and Dare of the texting game has been exposed and analyzed—including what happened between Knox and me. I’ve made my peace with it, though, and I hope he doesn’t care any more than I do. Neither of us has anything to explain, or be embarrassed about. We’re lucky, that’s all. Beyond lucky to have each other.

He squeezes my hand back with a crooked grin. “So are you.”