“It’s about what we can prove, and right now we don’t have evidence he hit Greg with his truck. There aren’t any marks or dents, not even a scratch. It could’ve been someone angry at Greg. He mentioned he’s had a few problems lately, but I can’t go into that with you.”
“Problems? He’s never…” I remember the call he got the morning he was attacked. And his joke about needing to borrow money. Maybe there’s some trouble in his life I don’t know about. I’m upset that he didn’t confide in me, but then again, I haven’t exactly been open to listening lately. “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I know this was Andrew.”
“My gut says it was Andrew too, but the Crown doesn’t care much about instinct.”
“I’m going to have to live in hiding for the rest of my life.”
I hear her take a breath, then let it out through her teeth. “I’m going to keep a close eye on him. I promise, Lindsey.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I glance down the hall. I can hear Jenny moving around in her bedroom and Sophie will be awake soon. “I have to go.”
She’s quiet for a couple of beats, then says, “Be careful.”
“I will.”
I end the call and stare down into my coffee. A fruit fly has landed on top and drowned. Its little body floats in a circle. When I stab at it with my fingertip, it keeps drifting away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SOPHIE
Jared’s face is a shadowed blur on my laptop screen, going in and out of focus, his smile frozen for a moment, his voice delayed like in a foreign movie. The walls of his bedroom come clear, then the rest of him. He leans closer, his black eyes inches from the screen. I feel like I could reach out and touch his wide bottom lip, have the urge to press my lips against his like I might have done to a teen movie star poster when I was a kid. I glance at the little thumbnail shot of my image in the bottom corner and try to turn my head in a way that makes my hair look the best and shows a little bit of my collarbone and the hollow at the top of my cleavage.
“Where are you?” he says.
“I’m in the spare bedroom. It’s nice.” The room is fresh, with pale turquoise-blue walls, and a white bedspread with crisp dark-colored tree branches and a splash of teal sky at the top. When I woke up this morning, I felt like I was in a summery sea of cool blue, which was soothing until I heard Mom talking in the kitchen, until I remembered we’re on the run again.
“Why are you speaking so quietly?” he says.
“I don’t want my mom to hear.” Okay, so it was a little bit of a white lie when I told her that Jared didn’t know where we were going. He didn’t know the exact address. I just didn’t see any reason to hide anything else from him. It’s not like he’s going to tell my dad.
He leans closer. “School sucked without you today.”
“I wish I was there too. My mom and I drove around and visited some art galleries.” Mom’s face was tense as she negotiated the Vancouver traffic, her smile fragile, though she kept it plastered on—as if I don’t know she’s upset. She insisted we stop at Starbucks for a treat when normally she complains about how expensive everything is there, so I knew we were going to have another “talk.” I ordered a peppermint tea. My stomach couldn’t handle anything else.
“What’s going on with your dad?”
“He got arrested today. My mom’s trying to make it sound like he’ll leave us alone now, but I can tell she doesn’t really believe it.” She drank her coffee in record time while she talked, her fingers shredding the empty package of sugar into a million little pieces of confetti, her reassuring smile still in place, but I’ve seen it too many times for it to be any comfort.
“So when are you coming home?”
“I don’t know. I think she’s worried my dad will get away with everything and she might want us to stay living here. Jenny has extra bedrooms and Mom doesn’t own our house anyway.”
“What about your mom’s business?” His dark eyes look worried, and he’s leaning really close to the screen. I like that his voice sounds upset and he’s not trying to hide it. If he acted like he didn’t care, that would make this whole thing suck even more. If that’s possible.
“I heard her talking to Jenny in the kitchen before you and I started Skyping. Jenny was telling my mom that she could get her lots of new clients in the city, and rates are higher.”
“I don’t want you to move.”
His words fling a little hope into my heart, a delicious exhale of happiness and warmth. “I don’t want to move either, but we’ll be going to university together in September.” We’ve both been accepted to UBC in Vancouver. Different programs, but we’ll be on the same campus.
“That’s like nine months away.”
The way he says it makes it seem like an even longer time. Like an impossibly long time.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say. “I don’t want to live here.”
“Can you stay with Delaney?”