“Not here,” I said as I headed down the hill, feeling the dandelions brush my ankles.
“Ash, I said I’d give you three days, but what does this have to do with the dead girl?” Rhys followed close behind. “You seriously want to hang out with these people and play games—pretend like none of this is really happening? Which Kool-Aid have you been drinking because I—”
“I have a plan,” I interrupted him before he had a complete meltdown.
“Okay.” He took in a deep breath. “Let’s hear it.”
“Dane.” I glanced up toward Beth on top of the hill. She was looking for us. “He can take me into the . . . well, he can help me.”
“How?”
My eyes veered toward the corn. “I can’t say.”
“I see.” Rhys tightened his jaw.
“I just need to talk to him—get him alone without drawing suspicion,” I said as I waved at Beth, hoping she’d hurry up.
“You could get him neutered if they suspect an inappropriate relationship. But that’s beside the point, because you can’t trust him. We can’t trust anybody.”
“You can trust me.” It killed me to say it, considering I’d been lying to him from the moment we arrived.
He studied me, his moss-green eyes reminding me of our mother. Dragging his hand through his hair, he let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll do what I can to help.”
“Thank you,” I said as I watched Beth skip back to us, hoping she could be enough of a distraction to keep my brother off my case for a few more days.
The Kansas sun beat down on the fields, conjuring up a thick veil of perspiration, lemonade, and bergamot.
I felt a twinge of nervous energy as I searched the crowd for Dane.
As we walked through the gathering, Beth pointed out the different areas of the field that were appropriated for various games and competitions—archery, some kind of horseshoe game, barrel races, and an activity involving bacon grease, burlap sacks, and watermelons that I didn’t even want to contemplate.
The Mendozas, Grimsbys, and Hanrattys had their own sections of the field, marked by elaborate canvas tents anchored by flagpoles, each bearing a family crest.
I was shocked to see Henry perched on the edge of the field with the flag from the Larkin lodge—the circle with a golden crescent moon and a star. He waved. For the briefest of moments, he almost looked like he wasn’t a total serial killer, but then he ruined it by trying to smile.
“Oh my stars,” Beth trilled as she looked across the field toward the Mendoza camp. “Here he comes.”
The thought of seeing him again made my insides feel all feathery. As much as I tried to stay indifferent, I could feel a smile slipping across my lips.
The breeze blew in my favor, carrying the distinct scent of oak and honey. The scent wrapped around my senses like a soft blanket, but it wasn’t the scent I craved.
I turned to see Brennon striding toward us, shoulders broad, a straw bowler covering his neatly combed blond hair.
“Any word on when our mother might arrive?” my brother asked Brennon, giving me a moment to hide my disappointment.
“Soon.” He gave Rhys a firm pat on the back. “But you’re safe here. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or your sister.”
“Wow. I feel so much better,” Rhys said under his breath before stepping out of the way.
“I brought something for you.” Brennon presented me with a small sprig of flowers—delicate white petals tinged with the softest pink.
I smiled. “Apple blossom.”
“May I put it in your hair?” he asked as his eyes darted toward his parents, who were watching our every move from the other side of the field.
“Sure . . . ?” I looked to Rhys and Beth for some help, but they were already lost in their own world, a conversation about bugs, or the weather, or something.
This morning I’d braided a piece of hair from each side of my head and connected them together in the back with the black silk ribbon. Brennon walked behind me, tentatively burrowing the woody stem in the ribbon.
“Lovely,” he said.
Dane walked by, and I swore I could feel his gaze on the nape of my neck.
I watched him as he made his way to the backfield. I couldn’t help but follow.
Brennon spoke to me as we walked across the field. I knew this because his mouth was moving, but I had no idea what he was saying. All of me focused on getting to Dane. It wasn’t just the attraction, though that didn’t hurt. I needed answers. I needed him to take me into the corn and I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
23
SHINNY
THE GRIMSBYS AND the Mendozas were playing a game that looked a little like lacrosse but wilder. They were basically running around a giant field and whacking one another with four-foot-long sticks. The girls stood on the sidelines, oohing and aahing every time some poor guy took a hit.
Among the Mendozas, I recognized Tommy from the party last night. His black eye had faded to light purple.