Spells for Forgetting(81)

The photos were in number order from 382 to 404.

“What are these?” I turned it around to face Emery.

She squinted, reading them. “The negative numbers, I think.”

“Where’s 387?”

She reached over the stack to her right to find the envelope of negatives. I waited as she went through them, holding each one to the light. “It’s not here.”

I took it, checking the numbers again. The film was cut before 387 in a diagonal line.

“Maybe it was an overexposure or the image was ruined somehow.”

I turned the film over in my hands before I slid off the edge of the bed, searching the floor for the evidence log. I pointed to the one line that had been whited out. “Or it was something Jake didn’t want anyone to see.”





Forty-Eight


    EMERY


Jake’s house was a stone’s throw from the marina and one of the only residences on Main Street. It wasn’t a house at all, really. More like a two-level flat that shared a wall with the bakery. But the only entrance was the door in the alley that faced the water.

I knocked three times, shaking the icy sting from my knuckles as Jake’s footsteps sounded inside. This time of night, he’d be a few drinks in. Maybe that was a good thing.

The door opened and he immediately drew back, surprised to see me. “Hey, Em.” He blinked the blurred look from his eyes.

I stepped past him, glancing at the open bottle of bourbon on the coffee table. The pellet stove was going, but the kitchen window was open to the cold and he had the Saoirse Journal open beside an empty glass on the table. His place always smelled like fresh tobacco and coffee.

He ducked out to peer down the alley before he shut the door. “Everything okay?”

“No,” I answered honestly. “It’s not.”

He reached up, scratching the back of his head. “All right. What’s going on?” His speech was a little slower than it was in the morning hours.

“Was I a suspect in Lily’s murder?”

It took a moment for my words to sink in, but when they did, his shoulders drew back. “What?”

I rubbed the spot between my eyebrows, impatiently. “I don’t have time for this, Jake. Just answer the question.”

“How did you…”

“I took the files from your office,” I said flatly. What could he do about it now? “I’ve been going through them all night.”

Jake paled, gaping at me. “What the hell were you thinking, Em?”

“I’m not a cop, but I’m also not an idiot. The file makes it look like I was a suspect. Is that true?”

“This isn’t a closed case. You could get into serious trouble for—”

“And you could get into serious trouble for hiding evidence,” I shot back.

He went rigid, his nostrils flaring. I hadn’t been sure about August’s theory, but it was clear on Jake’s face.

“I want to know the truth, Jake,” I said again. “Was I a suspect or not?”

His gaze went through me, his jaw working as he tried to think. I didn’t know if I’d ever really seen him like that. Confused. Uncertain of what to do. In an instant, my uncle looked incredibly fragile, and I didn’t like the feeling it gave me.

“They were taking a look at you, that was all.” He spoke through a heavy breath. “The Seattle Police.”

“Why?”

He walked back to his chair and sat with a groan. “They looked at everyone. You were Lily’s best friend and you said you’d gone to the beach to meet her. She was drowned, for God’s sake, so of course they were going to look at you.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew it wasn’t true. And you were shaken up enough. Lily was dead and your dad was hurt. I didn’t think it was right to tell you. Not then.”

“Did my parents know?”

He shook his head once.

I sat on the corner of the sofa beside him, thinking. “Did they find something when they were looking into me?” That was the only reason I could think of that Jake would hide evidence.

Jake hesitated. “Maybe.”

“What?”

The corners of his mouth turned down. “Just a statement from someone saying they saw the two of you fighting at the pub. Nothing that really added up to something substantial. There was way more evidence pointing to August, and they seemed much more interested in him.”

“So you pushed them in that direction.”

“I didn’t.”

Jake’s hunch that August was guilty wasn’t all wrong. He had set the fire. But everyone was so busy wondering who killed Lily that no one had looked too closely at what happened at the orchard.

“What was on negative 387?” I asked quietly.

Jake’s eyes flicked up suddenly. Just when I thought he would dodge the question, he seemed to change his mind. “A necklace.”

I gave him a puzzled look. “A necklace?”

“Your necklace. The one your dad gave you for your birthday.”

Slowly, the weight of what he was saying sank in. My dad had given me a silver necklace with a butterfly on it that year. I wore it almost every day, but at some point, I’d lost it.