The Girl I Used to Be (16 page)

“The paper said the police had been called out to the house several times and that she actually had a restraining order against him.”

Audrey looks over her shoulder at me. “That was Naomi's mom, Sharon. She was mad at Terry for getting Naomi pregnant, and then he got behind on child support. That Thanksgiving, everyone had too much to drink and there was a shoving match. Sharon called the cops and insisted Naomi press charges. Terry told us about it. He was embarrassed and ashamed.”

I feel a surge of hope, even if it's based on the idea of my parents having a drunken argument and my grandmother lying. “So they didn't really fight?”

“Ah! There it is! I knew I had another one!” Triumphantly brandishing a bottle of ketchup, Audrey emerges from the fridge. She turns to me. “Oh, yeah, they fought. Gregg and I fought all the time back then, too, and we were a few years older. Naomi and Terry were still kids themselves when their baby was born. Gregg and me—we got a chance to grow up. To figure things out. They didn't.” With the ketchup bottle, she points at the sliding glass door. “Come on, let's go outside and get you some food.”

Taking the grapes, I follow her. On one side of the crowded backyard, squealing kids run through a sprinkler. The water sparkles in the long rays of the setting sun. On the other, people are pulling drinks from an ice-filled cooler or circling a picnic table still crowded with food.

Chicken breasts and hamburger patties sizzle as Duncan and his dad turn them on a huge stainless-steel grill. Hovering over the meat is Richard Lee, dressed in crisp blue Bermudas and a madras plaid short-sleeved shirt. When he catches sight of me, he gives me something between a wave and a salute. He looks so different from the ragged boy in the annual. Had his change in circumstances really started with my parents' murder?

I move a nearly empty bag of Doritos to make room for my grapes. Sam is in the backyard now, adding a scoop of potato salad to an already-heaping plate. Where is she going to put it? You could cut yourself on her shinbones.

From across the yard, Lauren gives me a little wave, and I walk over to her, relieved to talk to one person who for sure can't be a suspect.

“You're wearing that blouse! And your necklace is beautiful.” She squints. “Are those buttons?”

“Thanks. They are.” I run my fingers over them. “Nora gave it to me.” Lauren's wearing shorts and a yellow T-shirt that would look terrible on me. On her, it just sets off her tanned skin and purple hair.

She scans the crowd. “Is she here? I haven't seen her yet.”

“No. She decided not to come. She said she didn't want to be out too late.”

“Too late? It's not even nine o'clock.”

“I think that's about when she goes to bed. But she gets up before dawn.” My stomach rumbles. “I'm going to get something to eat. I didn't have much lunch today.”

As I circle the table, I try to eavesdrop. I'm pretty sure I catch my parents' names a few times, but whenever I get closer, people fall silent.

Jason is saying to Carly, “When you're out on the open road, and it's just you and your big, powerful truck, the feeling is amazing.” He labors over his pronunciation, his features bunched together. The beer he's holding clearly isn't his first. “Basically, I'm getting paid to cruise along while jamming to my favorite tunes.” I remember him complaining about his job to Heather. Maybe he's good at presenting only the side he wants people to see.

But Carly's not really listening. Instead, she says, “Terry would have loved this party, wouldn't he?”

At the sound of my father's name, Sam lifts her head from her plate. “He would probably be leading us all in a conga line or something.” Her smile is lopsided.

Jason swears. “Nothing's been the same since he died.”

Is Sam's or Jason's grief a cover for something darker? And what about Richard? Did his real estate empire start with my father's money? And did Benjy really see anything in the woods—or is he the victim of his own mind? Despite what Quinn said about revelations, I feel that I'm no closer to the truth than when I started.

 

CHAPTER 34

THINGS HAVE CHANGED

Sam immediately forks a bratwurst onto her plate when Duncan sets a platter piled high with meat on the table. He comes over to me and leans in.

“Learning anything?”

“I've been trying to eavesdrop, but people are too good about keeping their conversations private.”

“I've got an idea.” He tugs my wrist. “Come with me.”

I follow him around the corner until we're at the base of an oak tree that starts in the side yard and hangs over the backyard. About eight feet up, it forks into two massive trunks. A thin knotted rope dangles down the center, where three warped boards are nailed like a ladder. Bridging the gap between the two trunks is a weathered tree house, maybe six feet long and not quite as tall, with a big open window and a peaked roof.

“When you're up there, you can see and hear everything,” he says, “but nobody notices you.”

I run my thumb over my scar. “Is this the tree I was climbing when I fell?”

“Yeah. Me and my dad built the tree house the next year.”

Grabbing the rope, I give it an experimental tug. It holds firm. A few seconds later, I pull myself up onto the open platform that serves as the tree house's front porch. On hands and knees, I crawl inside. There's an old pink quilt, a wooden folding chair, a brown cushion, and two unlit votive candles.

I'm still taking it all in when Duncan scrambles in behind me.

I turn my head to ask him something. He's a lot closer than I thought, and my nose grazes his cheek. Suddenly, we're kissing. I think it surprises him as much as it surprises me.

My whole body starts to hum. I no longer hear the sounds of the party below us, no longer feel the rough boards under my hands and bare knees. When Duncan lifts his lips from mine, it's like waking from a dream.

When I open my eyes, he's blinking. “Wow!” he says softly, sitting back on his heels and running his thumb over his lips.

When I start to sway, he grabs my arm above the elbow. Then he freezes. It's not something he sees. It's something he hears.

“I can't believe it's been fourteen years,” Carly is saying. “Fourteen years. I've missed my brother every single day.”

“There was no one like him,” Richard says.

“Every time I got an e-mail message from an address I didn't know or a call from a number I didn't recognize, I thought it might be him.” Carly's voice trembles.

Someone makes a strangled sound. I think it might be Sam.

“A lot of things have changed in the last fourteen years,” Jason says. There's an edge to his tone. “And a lot of people.”

Duncan and I lean forward until we can see below. No one looks up. They're too focused on one another.

“What do you mean?” Audrey asks.

Jason points an accusing finger at Richard. “Back in the day, you were as raggedy-ass as the rest of us. You used to hang around my house at dinnertime, hoping to be invited to eat. Now you're
Richard
”—he gives the full name a sarcastic spin—“and you've got your face on billboards, and every time I turn on the TV, there's your commercial. Look at you, with your plaid shirt and fancy watch. The rest of us are still scraping along, and you look like an actor.”

Richard lifts his chin. “I worked hard to get where I am.”

“So are you saying we don't?” Jason waves one hand at the rest of the group. “Everyone else is working their butts off and has been forever, but right after Naomi and Terry died, things started to change for you. Terry'd been pulling double shifts so he could pay off his back child support. He told me he was going to give the money to Naomi before Christmas. You think no one remembers how your hands were all banged up that Monday after they disappeared? Like you'd been fighting. I think you stole that money—and then you killed them!”

Duncan and I exchange a wide-eyed look.

“Please, Jason.” Sam pushes herself to her feet. Her voice is as sharp as a razor. “Richard may be a money-grubber, but he'd never get his hands dirty like that. He's got a little system going. He finds some old lady who's behind on her property taxes, who's maybe not thinking so clearly. Then he makes her a deal: He pays the taxes, and she signs the house over to him. When she dies, he sells the house and keeps the profit, and the heirs get nothing.” She shakes her head in disgust. “And he'll tell you that it's all perfectly legal.”

I remember seeing Frank shake his finger at Richard after the memorial.

Richard draws himself up to his full height and smooths the front of his shirt. “How I got where I am is all legal. And some of those people have gotten far more out of me than I get in return.” His face contorts into a sneer. “As for my knuckles, Jason, they were bruised because I finally stopped letting my mom's boyfriend beat me. I was nowhere near the woods that day, and I have no idea what happened to Terry and Naomi. But I never believed Terry did it. Can the rest of you say the same?” He stares at the ring of faces and then stalks off.

 

CHAPTER 35

LOST CAUSE

I turn around to see what Duncan thinks. At first he looks shocked, but when his gaze shifts to me, his features soften. He's clearly remembering the kiss we just shared. I need someone who can help me—not kiss me. “I have to go.” My words sound abrupt, even to my own ears.

I climb down the tree and go inside the house, mentally berating myself. I'm not here to make out. I'll splash some cold water on my face and then go back and mingle. Observe. Try to slip in questions.

But the bathroom is occupied, and Carly's just taking a spot outside the door.

From behind it I hear a sound. Like choking. Or maybe sobbing.

“Who's in there?” I whisper to Carly.

“Sam.”

“She must be really upset. It sounds like she's crying.”

“Really? That's what you think it sounds like?” Carly raises an eyebrow, not moving from where she leans against the wall. I realize she's not quite sober. “How do you think she stays so thin?”

Understanding dawns. “Oh.” Sam's not sobbing—she's throwing up. She's bulimic.

“My brother was trying to help her. Trying to get her to stop being obsessed with perfection.” Carly rolls her eyes. “A lost cause.”

The bathroom door opens, and I realize, too late, that the sounds inside ceased a minute ago.

Sam's high cheekbones are flushed. “Your brother,” she hisses at Carly, “was the only one who tried to save me. Everyone else knew how bad things were at home, but he was the only one who cared. He even got between me and my dad once. I paid for it later, but still he stuck up for me in a way no one else ever had. But then he fell in love with Naomi, and it was like he didn't even see me anymore.” Her face drops forward, and her blond hair swings over her eyes like a wing covering a sleeping bird.

“So are you saying that you hurt him?” Carly puts her hand to her mouth. “Him and Naomi?”

“Of course not.” Sam raises her chin. “But back then, I thought Terry must have killed her. And you know what? I didn't care. If he had called and asked me to go away with him, I would have left in a minute. I wouldn't have hesitated. All these years, I kept my old AOL address just in case. I kept thinking he would come back for me. Terry saved me, and then he just walked out of my life and left me all alone.” Her eyes glitter with unshed tears.

 

CHAPTER 36

I'M NOT ANYONE

“Oh, Sam.” Carly folds the other woman into a hug. Leaving them to their tears, I go into the bathroom. When I come out, they're gone, but Jason's standing just outside the door.

And he's staring at me.

“What's your game?” he demands. “Why are you following me?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Even to me, I sound unconvincing.

He takes a step closer. I step back, but there's nowhere to go. He puts his hands on either side of me so that I'm pinned against the wall.

“I saw you at the funeral, I saw you at McDonald's, and now you're here.” Flecks of spit land on my face. “Did you think I wouldn't notice?”

“I, I, I…” The words get stuck in my throat. He's so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. His face shines with sweat, and there are damp rings under both of his arms.

“I hear the clicks on my phone.” His pupils look wide, unfocused. “I know you guys are tapping me.”

“What?” I don't have to pretend to be confused.

“You've bugged my house. You've got undercovers following me.”

Does he think I'm a cop or an informant? “I'm not anyone.” Remembering Duncan's plan for a cover story, I add, “I'm just Duncan's girlfriend.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes. “And now go run off and report to Steve. Just be sure you tell him one thing for me.” He pokes a finger in my sternum. “You tell him that no matter how hard you guys try, I'll still be one step ahead of you.”

He spins around, leaving me shaking. He's moving toward the front door, so I head toward the back. Has Jason just confessed to murdering my parents? Is Stephen really having him followed?

Someone is cutting through the shadowy side yard just ahead of me, underneath the oak tree. At first I think it's Duncan, but then I catch a whiff. It's Benjy, still in his dirty overcoat, his hair sticking up in spikes. We reach the group around the table at about the same time.

“Hey, Benjy.” Carly pulls her lips back in an imitation smile. “How've you been doing?” Her husband puts his arm around her protectively.

“Oh, you know, they surprise you and put little needles in your scalp and listen to you for years whether you know it or not.” Carly starts to respond, but Benjy continues, his words like a string of freight cars. The whole party has fallen silent, except for the shrieks of a little girl running through the sprinkler. “They have this really fantastic equipment they use to check my head, to see if the electricity is a little different. It's easier to focus, see, because of all the fillings I got.” He opens his mouth and points at jumbled teeth and at gaps where teeth used to be.