One Step Too Far(Frankie Elkin #2)(51)

I squeeze his hand.

“Called Tim next. I didn’t know what to do. My mom was sobbing hysterically. And I was just . . . numb. After everything we’d done. It’s like half of me knew this was always going to happen. But the other half . . . She was my baby sister, the one who’d sneak me Popsicles after my father passed out. The girl who saved her Jell-O from school lunch because she knew how much I liked it. She used to swing so high, my mother would scream at her to get down. I loved her. Even when she was at her worst.”

Wordlessly, I wipe the first tear, followed by the second, third, and fourth, from his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Did Tim help you? When you called him?”

“Tim took care of everything. Called the other guys, spoke to his parents, organized the funeral. My mom was useless. I knew I should be helping, but I just . . . couldn’t.”

“Sounds like Tim was a great friend,” I say at last.

“Saint Timothy.”

“?‘Because the heavens opened up and choirs started to sing every time he walked into a room,’?” I quote. “At least, that’s what Scott told me.”

“Scott’s an asshole.” But Neil’s smiling faintly.

He sighs, eyelids drooping again. I shake his shoulder till he peers at me groggily.

“Your head hurt?”

“Like a son of a bitch.”

Adrenaline’s worn off. Here we go. “Nauseous? If you’re going to vomit, please do it in the other direction.”

“Don’t suppose you have a stapler?”

“Sorry, this is a superglue-only ER. Come on. I know it’s hard, but you gotta keep talking. Tell me about Tim.”

“Can’t.”

“He was your best friend. First one you called when you got terrible news. Guy you introduced to his future bride. I wanna hear all the details.”

“Latisha was my date. He was supposed to entertain her friend.”

I pause, remember Scott’s earlier coyness, and feel like an idiot for not connecting the dots sooner. “You’re the one who dated Latisha first.”

“Only a couple of times. Took me forever to work up the courage to ask her out. Then I was so damn nervous, couldn’t get out of my own way. Spent the first date tongue-tied. The second sweating like a freak show. She was so nice about it, too.

“I was desperate to succeed. So I consulted Tim. His idea, turn the next outing into a double date. Less pressure. I’d relax, make a better impression. So I did. And it was way less pressure. Especially once Latisha stopped paying any attention to me. One look, and just like everyone else, she was all about Saint Tim.”

“Awkward.”

“Yep.” Heavy sigh.

“You must’ve been very angry with him.”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. He knew how much I liked her. But then, not really his fault if she didn’t feel the same about me. That’s what I told myself. Once I stopped crying into my pillow.” A feeble smile.

“He could’ve backed off,” I say quietly.

“Not his style.”

“He could’ve excused himself from the date, given you more time to work your magic.”

“Not his style.”

“He wanted what other people had. Even what his best friends had.”

“Tim was one of those guys . . . you could love him even when you hated him. Which we all did, sooner or later.”

“Love him or hate him?”

“I’m tired. Can’t I just take a nap?”

“No sleeping. Come on, Neil. Keep talking. Saint Timothy who stole your date. What about Scott? Clearly, he wanted Latisha, too.”

“Scott was a putz, pining for something he was never gonna have.”

“But he did end up with her. Once Tim was out of the picture.”

“I don’t think a rock fell on my head,” Neil says abruptly. He rubs his temple, winces, squeezes his eyes shut against the pain. “I wasn’t that close to the cliff.”

“What do you think happened?”

“I heard a noise. I turned. And then . . .” Neil shudders, shifts uncomfortably. “Water, please.”

I give him the bottle, watching as he drinks deeply. He’s definitely paler now, with a sheen of moisture across his face. My concern ticks up several notches.

“This is it,” Neil mutters. “The four of us, we agreed. After this trip, we’re done. No more looking for skeletons. Once we walk out of these mountains, we’re never coming back. It’s what motivated Josh to crawl out of the bottle. Make one last push. Except then he got out of the trip. Lucky bastard.”

“Why is this the last time?”

“Because we can’t take it anymore. None of us. Josh is the most obvious, but all of us . . . He knows. I don’t know how he knows, but he knows. And now . . . This isn’t a recovery mission anymore. This . . .” He stares at me blearily. “This is a reckoning.”

I have a sinking feeling. Followed by a chill. I have to ask the next question, even though I’m not sure I want the answer.

“What did you guys do, Neil? What really happened five years ago?”

Then, just as I feared:

“We lied. We lied about everything.” Heavy, heavy sigh. “And our lies killed Tim.”