All the Missing Girls(88)

I started laughing, my chest heaving, my eyes tearing over. I held up my left hand. “She gave me two weeks. And she took my ring.”

“What?” Tyler yelled.

“Yep. As insurance, she said. Thinks maybe I’ll get her the money faster. Thinks I won’t report it missing.”

“How much is it worth?” Tyler asked.

“You’re not serious. I can’t just tell her to sell it and keep the money. It’s appraised and insured, and trust me, Everett’s not just going to let it go.”

“Everett,” Tyler mumbled.

“Really, Tyler,” I said, “she thinks I have money because of you.”

“This is ridiculous. It isn’t like her,” Tyler said.

“Are you sure? What’s she like, then?”

We all have two faces. I learned that from Corinne.

“Call her,” Daniel said.

“What?” The panic made my voice too high, too tight.

“Call her. Get her over here. This shit ends now,” Daniel said.

“Oh, right,” I said. “ ‘Hey, baby, you know how you’ve been blackmailing the Farrells? Can we talk about that?’”

Tyler stared right at me as he pressed his phone to his ear. “Hey,” he said. “Did I wake you?” He lowered his eyes from mine and left the room. “I know it’s late. I’m sorry. I’ve got a favor to ask.” More pacing. “I left my truck at the Farrells’ place so Dan could cart some stuff to the dump in the morning. I left the keys, but now I’m thinking I might’ve left my wallet. I can’t find it.” He leaned his forehead against the window while he listened. “Can you drive it over if it’s there? Do you want me to stay on the line? Okay. Thanks.”

He hung up. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but it was happening now, whether we were ready for it or not. The three of us clumped into the kitchen.

“Turn off the lights,” Daniel said.

Tyler came up behind me in the darkness. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Let’s go,” Daniel said.



* * *



I SAW HER COMING from the corner of the house I was pressed against, her purse slung over her shoulder, in yoga pants with her hair in a ponytail, as if she’d just rolled out of bed. She had a flashlight, and she strode across the backyard, around the side, straight for the driveway. I saw the moment she realized: when she noticed not only Tyler’s truck but Daniel’s car behind it. She slowed and stopped, and I could sense her debating. She took a tentative step back.

“Wait,” I said. I had circled behind her, and Tyler was standing beside the truck. He opened the door, switching on the overhead light so we could see each other better. I could make out her outline but not her face—couldn’t tell whether she was surprised or scared, pissed or sad. I couldn’t see Daniel at all.

She whipped her head back and forth between me and Tyler. “What the hell?” she said, but she knew. She knew exactly what the hell.

“You made a mistake,” Tyler said. “The ring. Give it back.”

She hitched her purse up on her shoulder, folded her arms across her stomach. “Did she tell you?” she asked. “About the pictures?”

“You made a mistake,” he repeated.

“Seriously, Tyler?” She looked over her shoulder. “Where’s Dan? Why am I not surprised? Are you out here, too?” she said. And then louder, “You know what I realized? You all lied that night, didn’t you? All of you. You have to know. You’re all covering for someone.”

I saw Tyler’s head snap up, his whole body wound tight.

“Those pictures don’t prove anything. But blackmail is illegal,” I said.

“That’s what anonymous letters are for,” she said. “Anonymous packages with pictures of a dead girl on your back porch.”

“Give me the ring, and give me the flash drive, and I’ll pretend you didn’t suck my father’s life away.”

“Really, Nic? You’ll just . . . let it go? Why’s that?”

“Annaleise, cut the shit. Give her the f*cking ring, and get the f*ck out of our lives,” Tyler said.

Our lives.

She laughed, mean and sharp. “Tyler, be real. One of the Farrells is a murderer.”

“You’re wrong,” he said. “You can’t prove anything with grainy pictures that were probably doctored, with no time stamp. You know what you can prove? Blackmail. You’ve been taking money from a confused, mentally impaired man for years. There goes your future, Annaleise.”

“You can’t prove that, either. But you know what is proof? A body. Ever think of that?”

I froze. She was on the back porch, but just for a moment. Where did she go? Where did he take her? “You stole my ring. I can prove that.”

There was a noise behind her, from the edge of the woods, and she spun just as Daniel emerged from the trees. “We’ll work it out. But not like this,” he said. Always the reasonable one, always the responsible one.

“Oh, look at you, all self-righteous. You’re such a f*cking hypocrite.”

“Give her the ring back and we’ll talk,” Daniel said.

Her body was rigid. We were at an impasse. Two crimes, and neither of us could call the police without dragging out the other. “I don’t have it on me,” she said, hitching up the strap on her designer purse.