“Because she was intense about anything that could possibly hurt her,” Jade says. “If she found out for sure that Andrew wasn’t into her, it would destroy her.”
For some reason, I think about the tire tracks by Andrew’s car Sunday morning. The lie about picking up his prescription. A clump of snow falls from a branch overhead and lands on Jade’s windshield, jolting me in my seat.
Jade’s the one to finally speak again. “Did you tell Andrew what we did in the barn?”
“No. Why?”
“Because whoever made that blood streak—Burke says they were smart. It distracted the police for a couple days. Kept the search in Broken Falls when Bailey’s obviously not here.”
My stomach sours. “What are you saying?”
“The cops were asking a lot of questions about him.” Jade looks out the window. “Wanted to know if he and Bailey were close.”
I do a one-eighty in my seat so I’m facing her. “Jade. You can’t possibly think Andrew did this. They weren’t close—he would have no reason to want her dead.”
Jade’s quiet for a beat, then says, “I saw the gas station picture. Bailey was headed this way that night.”
“She could have been headed for the barn.”
“Will you stop with the stupid barn? It was just a distraction, they’re saying. Just like leaving the phone on Cliff’s property so the police would think he was involved.” Jade eyes me. “Kind of sounds like something someone smart would do, doesn’t it?”
Tears sting my eyes. “He’s my brother. You’re not going to convince me he had something to do with this.”
Jade looks at me with pity. “He’s not even your real brother.”
I’m already grasping the door handle. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
I sound pathetic, like a child, and I’m crying like one by the time I’m halfway up the driveway.
“Kacey,” Jade calls out the window. “If you’re covering for him, I’ll never forgive you.”
And then she peels away, and I’m alone.
—
In the living room, Mrs. Lao has returned to her talk show. I sneak back into the den, past Lauren, still curled up with Jerome.
The family computer is in here. I open the top drawer, saying a silent prayer of thanks for Ashley’s affinity for organization. There is a sheet of paper with passwords for all of the family accounts—online banking, the Netflix subscription. Everything is here.
Why do the police seem to think Andrew knows something? He and Bailey were friends as kids, but they barely talked anymore. And Ellie Knepper wasn’t even interested in Andrew that first day she came to talk to me at the house.
If Burke is interested now, he must have a new reason.
Something like those phone records he was holding Friday.
With shaking hands, I type in the web address for our cell phone provider and input the username and password when prompted. It’s all numbers—a combination of Andrew’s and Lauren’s birthdays.
I click through to Andrew’s number, pulling up his log of recent calls. There aren’t many outgoing ones; Andrew isn’t a big phone talker. He’s a face-to-face person.
I run a finger down the screen, stopping when I see the first three digits of Bailey’s phone number.
Andrew called her twice, at 11:15 p.m., the night she disappeared.
Almost Senior Year
August
I’m going crazy. I must be seeing things. It’s the only explanation for what happened today.
Let me back up. Today was senior service day, the day every one of us dreads and not one of us can get out of. (Alicia Rivera tried, saying her juvenile arthritis meant she couldn’t stand in the sun all day; I am sure she regrets it, since Mrs. Gonzalo made her spend the day at the Broken Falls nursing home playing bingo with Q-tip heads.)
Our assignment was to “beautify” some shitty-ass park outside Pleasant Plains; our entire class had to meet at school to get on the buses at six this morning. Jade ambled out of her front door right on schedule—I had to call her twice to make sure she was up, because Mrs. Gonzalo wouldn’t say what would happen to those who missed the bus.
Jade bitched and moaned the whole ride to school, using my rearview mirror to apply liner to her puffy eyes. “She can’t stop people from graduating.”
I didn’t want to call her bluff. Aside from my first choice, Bloomington, I’ve already started applications to schools in five different states. B-student schools in Americana that I will probably get into, ones that have Division Two football teams and dorm buildings with water damage. I can’t fucking wait.
We pulled into the parking lot at the same time as Andrew and Kacey; the sun was rising hot in the sky already. Kacey had her hair pulled back in the red bandana she wears to work. She fiddled with it as she shifted, aligning herself with Jade and me.
My stomach flipped as Andrew gave us a wave and bounced to catch up with Tyrell. I couldn’t help myself: “What, he’s too good for us?”
Kacey’s mouth opened with surprise. Jade elbowed me. We fell a couple paces behind Kacey, and she muttered in my ear: “If you’re trying to hide how you feel about him, you’re doing a shitty job.”
A foul mood came over me like a noxious gas. I was frustrated; since Lauren’s birthday, we hadn’t hung out with Andrew at all. Every time Jade and I went over to Kacey’s, Andrew was either at Tyrell’s or his summer internship at the historical society. The moment we had in his kitchen feels like it was years ago. Like a fever dream that never happened at all.
A crowd had pooled in front of the sign-in table. People muttering, bitching.
“Even our buses are assigned?” Bridget Gibson, Queen Complainer. Mrs. Gonzalo, jarring in her jeans and T-shirt, shooed Bridget and Val away from the table. Val frowned. “Can we switch with someone?”
As we signed in, I spotted the problem; Bridget was on bus 1, and Val was on bus 2—with Kacey and me.
“What the fuck,” Jade muttered under her breath. “It’s like they did this on purpose.”
“The assignments are random, Miss Becker!” Mrs. Gonzalo flitted by; if she heard Jade curse, she didn’t think it was worth the effort to stop and chastise her. Mrs. Gonzalo joined the teachers herding people onto the buses.
Kacey and I paired off and headed for our bus; Mr. White was sitting in the front seat, chatting with Ms. Stefani, the new art teacher, because everyone knows they’re fucking.
“Hey, Mr. W,” I said coyly. “Did you draw a short straw?”
“What makes you say that?” He grinned. “There’s no other way I’d like to spend my Saturday.”
Kacey and I settled into an empty pair of seats; she took the aisle. As we talked about whatever—the heat, the college application essay she was reading for me—I kept one eye on the bus door.
Outside my window, Andrew fist-bumped Tyrell; they split off, Tyrell heading for Jade’s bus, Andrew for ours. My heart dipped into my stomach.
“Bay?” Kacey was looking at me, those freaky eyes of hers patient and focused.
“Yeah?”
“I asked if you emailed it to me yet.”