At the Quiet Edge(77)

He felt a few tears slip from her cheek into his hair. He tightened his hold on her and pressed his face harder into her shirt, sure that she still loved him, sure that she must. When he heard Alex’s footsteps returning, Everett didn’t scoot away; instead he stayed close to her side.

“Is there anything he shouldn’t see?” his mom asked.

Alex shook his head. “It’s nothing like that. I only hid it behind some boxes so there wouldn’t be any questions.”

Everett looked at the board with his mom. The women’s eyes met his, most of them happy and bright, the lids rimmed with dark makeup, staring right into the camera lens.

“They’re so young,” his mom whispered, and he knew they were, though they seemed mostly grown up to Everett.

All of them had long hair, some natural blondes, some with darker roots peeking out. With less makeup and different hairstyles, they’d look like the senior girls that gathered near the steps of Everett’s school.

“I’ve been trying to keep my head down,” Alex said. “Stay under the radar while I research the stories.”

“Why?” his mom asked. When he hesitated, she pressed harder. “Why did you look scared when the detective showed up?”

“It’s nothing concrete,” he said. He glanced toward Everett. She glanced toward him too.

The irritated meow of a cat drifted toward them from not too far away. “Everett, go feed your cat.”

He shook his head.

She looked like she’d protest, but then she slumped a little, weariness dragging her face down.

Alex reached out to touch the border of one of the photographs. It was an inkjet copy of a family shot, a laughing blond girl holding a tiny brown dog.

“This is Marti Herrera,” he said. “She’s the last woman who disappeared. The kidnappings or killings stopped after that, so either the guy died or moved away or went to prison for something else.”

“Right. People like that don’t just stop and take up car restoration. But if he’s gone . . . If he’s dead or in prison, that means there’s no danger in looking into it, right?”

“It’s not danger I’m worried about, exactly. It’s just . . . Nobody has ever done anything about these missing women. The police never connected the cases. All they did was blow off the disappearances, saying the girls ran away or moved on to a new life somewhere. At the very least, they displayed callousness, but it was likely absolute incompetence. They wouldn’t want anyone exposing that, would they? Not even now.”

“I’d imagine not. And I know how persistent they can be when something pisses them off.”

Alex cleared his throat and glanced at Everett. “In the interest of full honesty, Lily, I should tell you I looked you up online. After our dinner.”

“Oh.” It was all she said, but Everett felt his face prickle with self-consciousness for her and for himself.

“I’m sorry you two went through that,” Alex said.

“Everett,” his mom said, her voice harder this time. “Please go feed your cat. Alex and I will stay right here, and I’ll be inside in a few minutes.”

Shadow yowled as if she’d heard her. Everett hesitated, shifting back and forth on his feet a bit. He didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to feel. But he’d confirmed for himself that this Alex Bennick couldn’t have been responsible.

“I’ll be watching the camera,” he finally said, shooting out the words as if he could lay down a line of defense for his mom.

“Understood,” Alex said.

Still, Everett watched over his shoulder as he went inside. Instead of going to feed Shadow, he walked immediately to his mom’s work computer and watched the tiny square that held miniature versions of his mom and Alex.

His head felt a little floaty now, like a balloon, and the only real thought he could hold on to was that he needed to talk to Josephine, tell her everything was fine and it wasn’t Alex. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too mad at him about today.

When his mom and Alex barely moved on the screen, Everett felt silly watching them, as if he were overreacting again. And that thought let the shame in. He should have apologized to Alex for going into his house, for lying to his uncle.

He would, he decided. He’d go back out and say he was sorry as soon as he’d fed his cat.

When he hurried to his room and opened the blinds, Shadow’s bright gold eyes were staring right at him, and he had to feel guilty about that too, because her food was two hours late now. “Sorry,” he muttered as he pushed the window up.

She hopped right in, and he let her, filling her dish and setting it on the floor. He squished down into the corner next to her so he could pet her perfect, sleek fur while she ate. The motion of it soothed him. Her purring made him feel tired. The balloon of his head was deflating now, and he suddenly wished he could curl up on his bed and sleep. Sleep through dinner and all the way until morning.

One corner of his sheet had popped off the mattress and risen up, and that was when he remembered the other horrible thing. The things he’d stolen. His mom finding them. And . . .

“No,” Everett breathed, shifting up to his knees and lunging for the mattress. He shoved his hands under it, splaying his fingers and reaching. They touched only fabric and wooden slats. He waved his arms wide and still felt nothing. Shadow bolted for the window when Everett sobbed out a strangled “No!”