Two Can Keep a Secret (14 page)

Ellery and I glance at each other and we both suppress a laugh. Drunk Brooke is kind of entertaining. “What are you doing down here?” Ellery asks. “Do you want to come upstairs?”

“No.” Brooke shakes her head vehemently. “I need to get it back. I shouldn’t have … I just shouldn’t have. I have to show them. It’s not right, it’s not okay.”

“Show them what?” I ask. “What happened?”

Sudden tears spring into her eyes. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?
What happened?
” She puts a finger to her lips and shushes loudly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Is this about the pep rally?” Ellery asks.

“No.” Brooke hiccups and holds her stomach. “Ugh. I don’t feel so good.”

I grab a nearby wastebasket and hold it out. “Do you need this?”

Brooke takes it, but just stares listlessly at the bottom. “I want to go home.”

“Do you want us to find Kyle?”

“Kyle and I are
over,
” Brooke says, waving her hand as though she just made him disappear. “And he’s not here anyway.” She sighs. “Viv drove me, but I don’t want to see her right now. She’ll just lecture me.”

“I can give you a ride,” I offer.

“Thanks,” Brooke slurs.

Ellery stands and plucks at my sleeve. “I’m going to find Ezra. Be right back.”

I crouch next to Brooke after Ellery leaves. “You want some more water?” I ask. Brooke waves me away, and for the life of me I can’t think of what to say next. Even after living with Katrin for four months, I’m still not comfortable around girls like Brooke. Too pretty, too popular. Too much like Lacey.

Minutes crawl by, until Brooke draws her knees up to her chest and lifts her eyes toward mine. They’re unfocused and ringed with dark circles. “Have you ever made a really bad mistake?” she asks quietly.

I pause, trying to catalog what’s going on with her so I can frame a good answer. “Well, yeah. Most days.”

“No.” She shakes her head, then burrows her face in her arms. “I don’t mean regular stuff,” she says, her voice muffled. “I mean something you can’t take back.”

I’m lost. I don’t know how to be helpful. “Like what?”

Her head is still down, and I have to edge closer to hear what she’s saying. “I wish I had different friends. I wish everything was different.”

Footsteps approach, and I stand up as Ellery and Ezra poke their heads into the office. “Hey, Mal,” Ezra says, and then his gaze drops to Brooke. “Everything okay in here?”

“I want to go home,” Brooke repeats, and I offer a hand to help her to her feet.

She revives a little when we get outside, and only needs occasional steadying as we make our way toward my mother’s Volvo. It’s the nicest car we’ve ever owned, courtesy of Peter, and I really hope Brooke doesn’t throw up in it. She seems to be thinking the same thing, and rolls down the window as soon as Ezra helps her into the passenger seat.

“What’s your address?” I ask as I climb in behind the wheel.

“Seventeen Briar Lane,” Brooke says. The far edge of town.

The twins slam the back doors and I turn to face them as they buckle themselves in. “You guys are right around the corner from here. I’ll drop you off first so your grandmother doesn’t worry.”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Ellery says.

I back the Volvo out of its spot and head for the exit. “Sorry you had to leave the party,” Brooke says, scrunching down in her seat. “I shouldn’t have had anything to drink. Can’t hold it. That’s what Katrin always says.”

“Yeah, well. Katrin doesn’t know everything.” It seems like the thing to say, even if she was right in this particular case.

“Hope not,” Brooke says in a low tone.

I glance at her before pulling onto the main road, but it’s too dark to read her expression. It sounds like she and Katrin are fighting, which is weird. I’ve never seen them on the outs, maybe because Brooke lets Katrin take the lead in everything. “We weren’t planning on staying anyway,” I reassure her.

It’s a quick trip to the Corcorans’ house, which is dark except for a single light blazing on the front porch.

“Looks like Nana’s asleep,” Ezra says, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. “I was worried she’d be waiting up. Thanks for the ride, Mal.”

“Any time.”

Ezra opens the car door and gets out, waiting in the driveway for his sister. “Yeah, thanks Malcolm,” Ellery says, slinging her bag over one shoulder. “Talk to you soon.”

“Tomorrow, maybe?” I blurt out, turning to face her. She pauses, her eyes questioning, and I freeze for a second. Did I imagine that I almost kissed her in the basement, or that it seemed like she wanted me to? Then I plow ahead anyway. “I mean—I could call you, or something. If you want to, you know, talk.”

God. Real smooth.

But she gives me a full smile, dimple and all. “Yeah, definitely. That sounds good. Let’s talk.” Brooke clears her throat, and Ellery blinks. Like she’d forgotten for a few seconds that Brooke was in the car. I know I did. “Bye, Brooke,” Ellery says, climbing out the door that Ezra just exited.

“Bye,” Brooke says.

Ellery shuts the car door and turns to follow her brother up the drive. She passes Brooke’s open window just as Brooke sighs deeply and rubs a listless hand across her face. Ellery pauses and asks, “Are you going to be okay?”

Brooke shifts to face her. She doesn’t speak for so long that Ellery frowns, darting concerned eyes toward me. Then Brooke lifts her shoulders in a shrug.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she says.

Ellery

Sunday, September 29

The photo albums are more than twenty years old, dusty and brown at the edges. Even so, seventeen-year-old Sadie practically jumps off the page in her daring black homecoming dress, all wild hair and red lips. She’s entirely recognizable as the younger version of her present-day self, which is more than I can say for her date.

“Wow,” Ezra says, inching closer toward me on Nana’s living room rug. After much trial and error with her stiff furniture, we’ve decided it’s the most comfortable seat in the room. “Sadie wasn’t kidding. Vance was hot back then.”

“Yeah,” I say, studying Vance’s high cheekbones and lazy smirk. Then I glance at the clock over Nana’s fireplace, for about the fifth time since we’ve been sitting here. Ezra catches the movement and laughs.

“Still only eight-thirty. Has been for an entire minute. In other words: too early for Malcolm to call you.” Ezra didn’t miss my moment with Malcolm in the car last night, and he wouldn’t let me go to sleep until I told him about our near kiss in the Fright Farm staff room.

“Shut up,” I grumble, but my stomach flutters as I fight off a smile.

Nana works her way into the living room with a can of lemon Pledge and a dustcloth. It’s her usual Sunday-morning ritual: seven o’clock Mass, then housework. In about fifteen minutes she’s going to send Ezra and me outside to rake the lawn. “What are you two looking at?” she asks.

“Sadie’s homecoming pictures,” Ezra says.

I expect her to frown, but she just aims a spray of Pledge at the mahogany table in front of the bay window. “Did you like Vance, Nana?” I ask as she wipes the surface clean. “When he and Sadie were dating?”

“Not particularly,” Nana sniffs. “But I knew he wouldn’t last. They never did.”

I flip through the next couple of pages in the album. “Did Sarah go to homecoming?”

“No, Sarah was a late bloomer. The only boys she ever talked to were the ones Sadie went out with.” Nana stops dusting and puts the can down, pushing the bay window curtain aside and peering out. “Now, what’s he doing here this early on a Sunday?”

“Who?” Ezra asks.

“Ryan Rodriguez.”

I close the photo album as Nana heads for the front door and pulls it open. “Hello, Ryan,” she says, but before she can say anything more he interrupts her.

“Is Ellery here?” he asks. He sounds hurried, urgent.

“Of course—”

He doesn’t wait for her to finish. He pushes past her, eyes searching the room until they land on me. He’s in a faded Echo Ridge High sweatshirt and jeans, faint dark stubble tracing his jaw. He looks even younger without his uniform on, and also like he just woke up. “Ellery. Thank God. Have you been here all night?”

“Ryan, what on earth?” Nana shuts the door and folds her arms tightly across her chest. “Is this about the homecoming threats? Did something new happen?”

“Yes, but it’s not … it’s a different …” He runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “Brooke Bennett didn’t come home last night. Her parents aren’t sure where she is.”

I don’t even realize I’ve gotten to my feet until I hear a loud thud—the photo album has slipped from my hand to the floor. Ezra rises more slowly, his face pale and his eyes darting between me and Officer Rodriguez. But before either of us can say anything, Nana lets out a strangled cry. Every drop of color drains from her face, and for a second I think she might faint. “Oh, dear God.” She walks unsteadily to a chair and collapses into it, clutching at the armrests. “It happened. It happened again, right in front of your faces, and you didn’t do a thing to stop it!”

“We don’t know what happened. We’re trying to—” Officer Rodriguez starts, but Nana doesn’t let him finish.

“A girl is
missing.
A girl who was threatened in front of the entire town two days ago. Just like my granddaughter.” I’ve never seen Nana like this; it’s as if every emotion she’s been suppressing for the past twenty years just flooded to the surface. Her face is red, her eyes watery, and her entire body trembles as she speaks. The sight of my calm, no-nonsense grandmother this upset makes my heart pound even harder. “No one on the police force did anything of substance to protect Ellery
or
Brooke.
You let this happen.
”

Officer Rodriguez flinches, as startled as if she’d slapped him. “We didn’t— Look, I know how upsetting this is. We’re all concerned, that’s why I’m here. But we don’t know Brooke’s missing. She might very well be with a friend. We have several officers looking into that. It’s too early to assume the worst.”

Nana folds her hands in her lap, her fingers threaded so tightly together that her knuckles are white. “Missing girls don’t come home in Echo Ridge, Ryan,” she says in a hollow voice. “You know that.”

Neither of them are paying any attention to Ezra or me. “El,” my brother says in a low voice, and I know what’s coming next.
We have to tell them.
And we do, of course. From what Officer Rodriguez has said so far, it doesn’t sound as though he has any idea that Brooke left Fright Farm with us. Or that Malcolm was the one who ultimately took her home. Alone.

Last night, slumped in the passenger seat as Malcolm dropped us off, Brooke had looked so tired and defeated that I couldn’t help but check in with her one last time.

Are you going to be okay?

Why wouldn’t I be?

Nana and Officer Rodriguez are still talking, but I can only process scraps of what they’re saying. My chest shakes when I take a breath. I know I have to speak up. I know I have to tell Officer Rodriguez and my grandmother that our friend—
Declan Kelly’s brother
—was very likely the last person to see an Echo Ridge homecoming princess before she went missing.

And I know exactly how that’s going to look.

Malcolm

Sunday, September 29

I don’t realize it’s déjà vu until I’m in the middle of it.

When I wander into the kitchen Sunday morning, it doesn’t strike me as strange at first that Officer McNulty is sitting at our kitchen island. He and Peter are both on the town council, so I figure they’re probably talking stoplights again. Even though it’s barely eight-thirty in the morning, and even though Officer McNulty is listening with a surprising amount of interest to Katrin’s long-winded description of her date with Theo last night.

My mother is fluttering around the kitchen, trying to fill cups of coffee that people haven’t emptied yet. Officer McNulty lets her top his off, then asks, “So you didn’t see Brooke at all last night? She didn’t call you or text you at any point in the evening?”

“She texted to see if I was coming to the party. But I wasn’t.”

“And what time was that?”

Katrin scrunches her face up, thinking. “Around … ten, maybe?”

“Could I see your phone, please.”

The official tone of the request makes my skin prickle. I’ve heard it before. “Is something going on with Brooke?” I ask.

Peter rubs a hand over his unshaven jaw. “Apparently she wasn’t in her room this morning, and it looks as though her bed wasn’t slept in. Her parents haven’t seen her since she left for work last night, and she’s not answering her phone.”

My throat closes and my palms start to sweat. “She’s not?”

Officer McNulty hands Katrin’s phone back to her just as it buzzes. She looks down, reads the message that’s popped up on her screen, and pales. “It’s from Viv,” she says, her voice suddenly shaky. “She says she lost track of Brooke at the party and hasn’t talked to her since.” Katrin bites her lower lip and shoves the phone at Officer McNulty, like maybe he can make the text say something different. “I really thought they’d be together. Brooke stays over after work sometimes because Viv’s house is closer.”

Dread starts inching up my spine.
No. This can’t be hap
pening.

Mom sets down the coffeepot and turns toward me. “Malcolm, you didn’t happen to see Brooke when you picked the twins up, did you?”

Officer McNulty looks up. “You were at Fright Farm last night, Malcolm?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Just to give the Corcoran twins a ride home,” Mom says quickly. But not as though she’s really worried that I’m going to get into trouble.

My stomach twists. She has
no
idea.

Officer McNulty rests his forearms on the kitchen island’s shiny, swirling black marble. “Did you happen to see Brooke while you were there?” His tone is interested, but not intense like it was when he interrogated Declan.

Not yet.

Five years ago we were in a different kitchen: our tiny ranch, two miles from here. My dad glowered in a corner and my mother twisted her hands together while Declan sat at the table across from Officer McNulty and repeated the same things over and over again.
I haven’t seen Lacey in two days. I don’t know what she was doing that night. I was out driving.

Driving where?

Just driving. I do that sometimes.

Was anybody with you?

No.

Did you call anybody? Text anybody?

No.

So you just drove by yourself for—what? Two, three hours?

Yeah.

Lacey was dead by then. Not just missing. Workers found her body in the park before her parents even knew she hadn’t come home. I sat in the living room while Officer McNulty fired questions at Declan, my eyes glued to a television program I wasn’t watching. I never went into the kitchen. Never said a word. Because none of it involved me, not really, except for the part where it became this slowly burning fuse that eventually blew my family apart.

“I …” I’m taking too long to answer. I scan the faces around me like they’ll give me some clue how to respond, but all I can see are the same expressions they always wear whenever I start to talk: Mom looks attentive, Katrin exasperated, and Peter is all patient forbearance marred only by a slight nostril flare. Officer McNulty scratches a note on the pad in front of him, then flicks his eyes toward me in a cursory, almost lazy way. Until he sees something in my face that makes him tense, like he’s a cat batting at a toy that suddenly came to life. He leans forward, his blue-gray eyes locked on mine.

“Do you have something to tell us, Malcolm?” he asks.