One of Those Faces (65)

“Why did you run away?” he asked.

“My father.” It was a simple answer.

“That’s why you thought he might be caught up in what’s going on down here?” His eyes drifted to the scar on my neck.

“Yes.” The thought was always at the back of my mind these days. But with him dead, would we ever really know? “I cut ties with everyone and everything when I left. I didn’t even bring my phone.”

“Well, Daniel was able to find you.”

“He didn’t find me—we ran into each other.” It sounded far fetched as I said it. Just another big coincidence I’d accepted without question.

He nodded. “Okay, if that’s true and you happened to find each other by chance, how hard would it be for someone to find you if they were really looking?”

I shrugged. “That’s why I told you about it. Because I was scared of the same thing.” What if my father had come looking for me but instead had found Sarah? Maybe Holly had nothing to do with it.



I thumbed at the edge of my jacket, watching him cross the street toward me. I couldn’t sit still in the coffee shop.

Danny’s eyes lit up when he saw me waiting by the bridgehead. “Hey, I thought we were meeting at the café?” he said, stepping onto the sidewalk beside me.

My heart hurt at the thought of him sitting in jail. “Let’s just walk.”

“Okay, sure. Is everything all right?” He looked at me from the corner of his eye.

I didn’t respond as we started down the steps and onto the Riverwalk, the sound of cars clattering behind us as they rolled over the bridge. “Why didn’t you tell me what happened to you after I left?”

He stopped and squared his body toward mine. “What?”

“In Evanston. You were arrested?”

He groaned and sank onto the nearby bench. “Come on, Harper. What good would it have done to bring that up? I mean, I told you he tried to ruin my life.”

I paced in front of him. “You made it seem like a joke. I didn’t realize—”

He rubbed his face. “Look, nothing came of it, and I’m fine now. He dropped it almost right away when he found out that I knew about”—he glanced at me—“you know. And I had a good lawyer.”

Of course. I couldn’t forget. And Danny had always seen the aftermath. I sank down on the seat beside him, our knees touching. “Tell me what happened.”

“Harper—” He shook his head.

“Please.”

He sighed and looked at me. “I went to your house when you left, because I thought he had hurt you again or worse. But when you weren’t there, I figured, and hoped, you’d run away. He lost it. Then the next day, the police came to my place and started throwing around phrases like ‘kidnapping’ and ‘statutory rape.’” His jaw clenched.

“Oh my god,” I breathed, covering my face with my hands. “What happened then?” I managed after a moment.

He glanced down at his hands. “And they checked my apartment and, of course, found out you had been there. But when they found out why, they started looking into your father a little more.”

“What made them let you go?”

He shrugged. “Right when they were about to start investigating him, he said he’d heard from you and that you were safe in Chicago. And they just believed him, you know? He’s a respectable member of the community up there.”

I hung my head. “I would’ve never . . . I should’ve told you that I was leaving.” But if I had talked to Danny, I wouldn’t have left. If I had touched him one last time before walking out the door, I would’ve stayed.

“I don’t regret anything,” he said. “I mean, sure, it would’ve been good to know that you were only sixteen and about your insane family, but still no regrets.” He grinned, but his eyes were troubled.

I had enough regrets for the both of us. Meeting him had saved my life but almost destroyed his.

“Besides,” he continued, “I was so proud of you.” He smiled weakly. “For leaving.”

I slid my hand into his, my heart racing. “Danny,” I breathed. There was nothing I could express. “He’s dead.”

His hand tensed around mine. “I’m sorry.” It was insincere, but I didn’t blame him.

I was more than merely indifferent about his death. I was relieved? But that relief still felt hollow. “Don’t be,” I said.

He responded by putting his arm around my shoulder and drawing me into his chest.

I let my neck relax against his, and we sat there, the river calmly dancing past us. It was like we had never stopped. It felt like, for a moment, he was still mine.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO


I was thankful that Iann had stayed the night at his place. My foul mood had lasted the entire night and carried over to the next morning. I staggered into the shower, my breath reeking of rum. I slumped against the side of the shower, letting the cold water run down my body until it turned hot. I opened my mouth until it was full and gargled, then spit into the drain.

For a moment, the water caught in my throat. I gripped the tiled wall and bent over, gagging. I remembered that night when I was ten, coughing up the icy water, my body convulsing, looking up at the paramedics and sputtering.