“Everything will be fine. I’ll be in touch.” He hangs up.
I crank the radio volume, zoning out a little as the truck eats mile after mile of open road. The sky has gone from gray to navy blue. The hard-rock station starts to broadcast an interview with a band I hate. I flip through the rest of the stations, but everything else sucks, so I turn the radio off.
The silence quickly makes me crazy. What am I coming home to? Had news of Preston’s death been made public yet? Could Pres really have blackmailed, and then died at the hands of, his own father? The questions swirl together inside my head, and I can’t answer any of them.
But I know who possibly can. Just the thought of Parvati’s throaty voice makes my insides ache. She’s always been able to make me feel better, and now I’m avoiding her because every time I talk to her it hurts me. And every time it hurts me I get one step closer to realizing the two of us are over. But maybe I should stop hiding and just deal with things. Darla’s right—I need to hear her out, even if talking to her means officially breaking up. Plus, she’s smart, and she’s the only one who understands this whole Preston mess. If she can help me find his killer, I should let her.
She picks up right away. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sorry I hung up on you.” She doesn’t respond right away, so I keep going. “I’ve been doing a really shitty job of dealing with things. Finding out about you and Pres from the FBI was not ideal, you know? But I can’t avoid hearing the whole truth forever . . . even though I kind of want to.”
“I know it was wrong to lie to you, Max. I guess I just didn’t want to screw up our friendship. Would you have wanted to hang out as a group if you knew Preston and I . . .” She trails off.
“The feds have pics of you guys from Bristol Academy, Parvati. How did you not know Pres was recording you two having sex for years?”
Parvati shudders audibly. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I knew Pres liked taping stuff, but I had no idea how far it went. I swear to you, all the feelings I had for him are in the past.”
“I just don’t get why you both felt the need to lie. I talked to him before I asked you out, and he said you guys had never been together.”
Parvati’s voice goes hoarse. “Probably because to him we never were. I’m fairly certain he only saw me as a casual hookup.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure what to say to that. Parvati is smoking hot, but the thought that someone could appreciate her sexiness but not get totally sucked in by how fun, and smart, and strong she is baffles me.
“Are you going to forgive me?” Parvati asks. “Or are we . . . breaking up?”
Did I mention her straightforwardness? “I don’t know, I mean, jeez, what do you want me to say?”
“Say you forgive me for lying to you. Give me another chance.”
“It’s not that easy, P. I never lied to you. Ever. Let’s say I do forgive you. That doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed.”
“I understand. Just don’t make any decisions yet, okay? Maybe we can talk more tomorrow?” she asks. “Are you going to the funeral?”
This is the first I’ve heard about a funeral. “Preston’s death is finally public news, huh?”
“Yeah,” she says. “It was on TV this morning. The funeral is tomorrow at four p.m.”
It all feels so . . . final. But if DeWitt actually killed his son, I guess it makes sense he’d want to bury the body before anyone started asking the wrong questions.
“Do you think Preston could have been blackmailing his own father?” I ask.
She hmms. “I wouldn’t put it past him. Why?”
“The guy who bailed me out said that DeWitt was being blackmailed.”
“Who bailed you out?”
“Just this guy,” I say. “He works for Preston’s dad.”
“I think I know the guy you’re talking about,” she says wryly. “Talk, dark, and creepy?”
“That’s the one. Do you think it’s possible Pres got carried away blackmailing his dad and DeWitt or some of his thugs killed him?”
“His own son? They never seemed close, but that would have to be some serious blackmail.”
“Well,” I say, “you know politicians. Most of them have a lot of skeletons in their closets.” I fill her in on what I learned about Adam. “Somehow, Preston is connected to this kid. I’m thinking DeWitt had an affair with Violet, and Adam and Pres are half brothers. Maybe the three of them decided to blackmail the senator about his kid out of wedlock.”
“So when Preston told me his parents gave him money because of the adoption, he was talking about this other kid, a brother he never got to know.” I can almost see her nodding her head, her black hair swishing forward. “It all kind of works.”
“Well, if it’s true, I have to find the information Preston was using for blackmail, because that’s the only way I can clear my name. Either that or find Adam Lyons, if he’s even still alive.”
“But if DeWitt did it, why would he report Preston’s disappearance to the police?” she asks.
“Probably so he didn’t look guilty when they found his body.”
“And why bail you out?”
“Good question. Maybe as bait. Maybe they think Adam’s still out there and might go to one of Pres’s friends for help.” I shiver as I think about how Langston and Marcus could have killed me, or how easily they could finish setting me up to get convicted for Pres’s murder.
“It makes sense, in the most screwed-up way possible.” Parvati pauses. “You should come to the funeral. Pres would want you there And we can talk more afterward. My father won’t make a scene in front of the whole town.”
“You don’t think?” She’s got more faith in her dad than I do. “I don’t know if I’m going to go. I feel like time is running out, you know? I’m the only suspect and McGhee and Gonzalez seem sure I did it. I probably only have a day or two before the forensics report comes back from Violet Cain’s house.”
“So?”
“So they found my shark’s tooth there.”
She sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh my God.”
“I know, right? I thought I lost it in the ocean, but I guess I left it in my car. Whoever put the phone in my trunk must have taken it at the same time.”
“I hate that you’re going through this alone. Will you at least meet up with me tomorrow night?” Parvati pauses. “We don’t have to talk about us. I want to help you figure this out, Max. I’m not going to let you go to jail for something you didn’t do.”
“Okay. I could use your help.” I sigh. “And we can talk about whatever.” Maybe it’s her voice, or the news of the funeral, or the stuff Darla said to me slowly sinking in, but suddenly part of me wants to give her another chance.
I can’t help it. I miss her.
THIRTY-THREE
December 10th