The Masked Truth(73)

I step from the room. “Sloane? Can we go, please?”

I try not to look at Brienne’s brother. Of course, that’s impossible, given that he’s standing two feet from my sister. He’s average height, his blond hair cut short, dressed in jeans and a tank top—the wife-beater Sloane mentioned. Even without looking his way, I can feel his gaze on me. He was there. When the Porters died, he was there, and I have to stop thinking that before my knees give away and I fall into a whimpering puddle.

“Sure, let’s do that.” Sloane quick-steps over and takes my arm. “We’re done here. Time for you to get some rest.”

She starts leading me away. Brienne’s brother steps into our path, and I do a scared-cat jump. I recover fast, but he’s seen it, and he doesn’t say a word, he just stands there, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. I try to erase any expression. I try so damned hard, but reactions whip through my head at breakneck speed—He was there. He knows the people who killed the Porters. And— Oh God, I can’t let him see that I’m scared of him. I can’t let him suspect Brienne told me anything.

Stop thinking about the Porters. Stop, stop, stop.

As Sloane pulls me away, I say, “I didn’t do anything. Whatever you think of me—of Max—it wasn’t like that. It really wasn’t.”

Does he buy the excuse? Come to the conclusion that I’m cowering because of his insults and insinuations? I don’t know. And the longer I look at him, the more suspicious he’ll become, so I let Sloane lead me away.

When we get to my room, she says, “What was that all about, Riley? And don’t tell me his bullshit freaked you out. I hear you nearly bit the detectives’ heads off for suggesting Max did it. You’re not going to let a swaggering wannabe like that spook you.”

“I …” I look over at her before I climb back into bed. “Can I talk to you about it tomorrow?”

“Why not now?”

“Because I need to work through a few things first.”

She sits in silence for a minute. Then she says, her voice uncharacteristically quiet, “Maybe it would help if you worked through them with me.”

“No, that’s okay.”

She settles into the chair, pulling her knees up, then says, as nonchalantly as possible, “It’s because I’m not as smart as you, right?”

“No, I—”

“I’m not. Hardly a big secret. Everyone worries about your grades sliding to B’s and C’s, and that’s what I got on a good day. You’re hardly going to brainstorm with the sister who couldn’t get into college.”

“You didn’t apply to college. You’re taking a year off to consider your options.”

“Which is shorthand for ‘I knew I wouldn’t get in, so I didn’t try,’ and the options I’m considering aren’t Yale versus Harvard. It’s whether I go to the local college or take more high school classes to boost my average. But this isn’t a pity party. You work hard in school. I didn’t. So I don’t blame you for not wanting my help on the thinking part.”

I turn to face her. “I honestly need to work it through first, Sloane. Brienne told me some things, and I need to figure out what I can say, and whether her secrets can get anyone in trouble—including you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m the big sister, remember?”

“By fourteen months.”

“And a whole lotta extra life experience, kiddo. Fine. You think it through. Just … don’t think too hard.”

I give her a look.

“I mean it,” she says. “You think too much, Riley. Something gets in your head and you just can’t get it out, and you go around and around with it. Maybe you think you’re working it through. But you’re just worrying more and feeling worse. What you need most right now is a good night’s sleep. I can ask the nurses to give you something if that will help shut your brain off.”

I shake my head. “I need to look up a few things.”

She sighs. “Of course you do.”

I hesitate. “We were going to talk about Max. About schizophrenia. Do you still want to hear it?”

She looks up and meets my gaze. “I do.”

So I explain, and I can see her taking it in, considering, assessing. She might say she’s not as smart as me, but she isn’t stupid. I tell her about Max and try to explain what he’s going through, and she listens, and then she says, “Okay, I won’t call him crazy anymore. Even if I suspect he’d still be a little nuts without the mental illness.”

I smile and shake my head. Then I take out my laptop to do some research.





CHAPTER 27


I find Brienne’s brother online. Not on Facebook or any other social media site. River Ruskin really doesn’t strike me as the type to tweet selfies.

Yes, as Brienne said, his name is River. Since I doubt his parents are hippies, I’m guessing he’s named after the actor. I’m not one to talk, though. My dad wanted to name me Ripley, after Sigourney Weaver’s character in Alien. Mom insisted on dropping the p to make it more mainstream. We are all victims of our parents’ tastes.

With that name, though, it’s easy to search for him online, and I find several references to an incident the year before, when he was arrested on drug charges. The case wasn’t big enough to make the paper, but in the age where most of us are on social media, that doesn’t matter. A handful of his former school peers heard the rumor and commented on it, and I put together enough of those comments to get a snapshot of River Ruskin.