It was no wonder Lily had fallen so completely for the ideal fantasy Jones had created. What a crock.
At least Lily had been determined not to spiral the way her mother had. She’d been absolutely committed to calm stability for Everett, and she’d managed it so well that his entire life was one endless boring stretch after another, apparently.
Well, boring was exactly what he needed.
She craned her neck out into the hallway to listen for a moment, then quietly closed her door. After checking that her curtains were shut tight, she opened her closet. It was stuffed too tightly with clothes and piled high with the miscellanea of their lives.
She reached up and, careful to lift each ancient shoebox with precision and set them down just as quietly, unloaded the highest shelf in her closet until one box sat alone.
She eased it free, then sat cross-legged on the floor, hunched over the cardboard. A harmless pile of old receipts lay in a jumble, but she pawed those aside, digging until her fingers touched thicker paper.
The envelopes emerged with a whisper, just a few accumulated over the years. One had been postmarked from California. Two from Mexico. Another from Costa Rica. All were addressed to EJA, the initials Everett had been born with. They weren’t his initials now.
Lily had saved the cards, unsure whether she’d give them to him someday or hide them forever. But now she knew she should have destroyed them from the start. Even a hint of his father had brought Everett’s nightmares roaring back.
Maybe her instincts had been right after all. A child needed stability, not a constant push and pull of affection given and then removed.
And if Jones really did bring the police back into her home, she couldn’t have anything that would throw her story into doubt.
With a glance at the door, and a quick prayer that whatever he learned in the future, her son would forgive her, Lily began to tear up each card, and then the envelope it had come in. When she was done, she tore each piece smaller, then scooped them all up into a plastic shopping bag.
When Everett left for school the next day, she would open the rusted charcoal grill she’d inherited with the patio, and she’d burn it all.
CHAPTER 12
Everett’s hand shook as he cleaned up the lunch his mom had set out and put his orange juice glass in the sink. He was excited. Really excited. And a little scared.
Josephine was done with the dentist—No cavities!!! she’d messaged—and was on her bike now and heading over. This was happening.
“I’m meeting Josephine at the trail!” he called out.
“Have fun and be careful,” she responded, her normal parting caution, and then Everett was out the door and racing toward their meeting place at the dead end of the road. Josephine didn’t look nearly as excited as he did, but she waved and led the way into the meadow, whooping a little when she barreled up a small hill and raced down the other side.
The narrow dirt trail they took ended near the tree they’d climbed during their last mission, so they rode straight toward it, then walked their bikes over and leaned them against the trunk.
Josephine pulled an ancient towel from her backpack and handed it to him. “You sure about this?” she asked.
“Absolutely. I need to know if there’s someone dangerous here. I’m at school all day, and my mom is just on her own. What if he really is a killer?”
“Yeah. You’re right. But let’s hurry. I have to be back before four to go to dance or I’ll be in deep doo-doo.”
“Got it.” Everett looped the towel around the top two strands of barbed wire, then twisted it tight to pull them up. Josephine tossed her backpack into the gap before easily sliding under. “Josephine Woodbridge, girl detective!” she yelled when she jumped upright, fists in the air.
“Hey, your boy detective is waiting,” he said, gesturing with the ends of the towel.
“No one cares about boy detectives, Ev, come on. A dime a dozen.”
He tossed his backpack right at her, rolling his eyes at her laughter as she let the pack fall and grabbed the towel.
Everett joined her in the field, and they set off, sticking close to the fence in case their presence agitated the cows or a farmer came tearing after them. But the cattle stayed quiet, and no farmers appeared.
“Did you read that link I sent about Marti Herrera?” Josephine asked. “She was the last one to go missing, you know.”
“Yeah, and her family didn’t let it drop. There were a lot more articles about her.”
“I think maybe they scared the guy. No more women disappeared after that.”
Everett frowned at his feet, watching to make sure he didn’t step in any fresh cow poop. “I keep telling myself that means he’s not dangerous anymore. Or that he’s not really the killer.” He dared a quick glance back toward the business park. “I mean, you can see my place, even from here. He’s so close.”
Josephine’s fingers brushed his shoulder. “It all happened a long time ago. You don’t really need to worry.”
But Everett could hear the forced lightness in her words. If he didn’t need to worry, they wouldn’t be out here.
They paused at the barrier of another fence. Josephine pointed. “If we cut across that field, I think we can sneak up behind the brown house.”
They ducked through the barbed wire, then hobbled across a plowed field that was alternately muddy and clumped with dried lumps of soil. But Josephine had been right. They were able to travel diagonally across it until they were behind the brown house that shielded Alex Bennick’s home.
There were only three houses in this cluster, each of them on lots of at least a couple of acres. The brown house was protected from wind by a row of tall, thin evergreen trees, so Everett felt pretty sure they wouldn’t be spotted as they crept toward the corner for a better view of the Bennick property. Most of Everett’s earlier excitement had settled into a low buzz of anxiety, and his mouth felt coated with dry grit.
He stuck his head out. “Looks quiet,” he whispered, but as soon as the words left his lips, the side door of the Bennick house sprang open, and a man stepped out. Everett yelped, grabbing Josephine’s arm to tug her more securely behind the edge of the last tree.
After a few heartbeats, she pulled her arm free and leaned back out again. “Is that him?”
“No, that guy is a lot younger.”
“He’s getting into that truck.”
Everett leaned carefully past Josephine to look, narrowing his eyes as the man started the SUV and backed out. He looked exactly like a normal person. Suspicious. The vehicle turned onto the road and drove away, leaving them in utter silence. Even the birds weren’t singing.
He took a deep breath and said, “Let’s go look,” determined to be brave.
“Everett, I don’t know . . .”
“That’s what we came out here for.”
“But we don’t even know who that is!”
“Whoever he is, he’s gone now, so this is the perfect time.”
After studying his face for a moment, Josephine tipped her chin in agreement. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
For one shuddering heartbeat, he realized he’d hoped she would at least try to stop him, to give him a minute to reconsider and think. But he had to be sure for the sake of his mom, didn’t he? She’d talked to Alex Bennick when he’d rented the place. She might have walked him over, stood alone with him in that echoing, shadowed locker . . .
And then Josephine was taking Everett’s hand and pulling him from his hesitation. They ducked low to race across the broken grass, and there was no more time to think.
He focused on the bright-green spot of a dandelion sprouting ahead and tried to pretend he was in a movie. It didn’t quite feel real, especially with her hand wrapped tight in his. He hadn’t even known Josephine two weeks ago, and now she was his closest friend.
And his partner in crime.