Every Last Fear(21)

They wound through the crowd to the dining room, a formal number with a chandelier, and the site of an epic beer pong game on the long table. Mike Flaherty was at the head of the table wearing no shirt, and some type of headband tied around his forehead. Muscles rippling, Mike stood on tiptoes and took a shot like a basketball player at the free-throw line. The small white ball flew in the air, bounced, hit the lip of a red cup but missed, prompting a so close groan from the crowd.

“You need to relax,” Harper said out of the side of her mouth, sensing Maggie’s stiffness. “I’m going to get us drinks,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” Maggie called, but Harper was already weaving through the horde. Maggie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying not to look nervous. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to have fun, or was a prude. And Harper was wrong: she’d had a drink before, and even made out with Reeves Anderson after the science fair. But for her entire high school career, she’d been living with the aftermath of a party just like this one.

She felt a pit in her stomach about lying to her father. But she hadn’t really lied, had she? She’d said she was staying the night at Harper’s, which was true. Dad didn’t ask about their plans. And she couldn’t spend her life avoiding parties, right? She was headed to college soon. Matt told her that he went to parties all the time at NYU, though she couldn’t imagine Matt’s uptight girlfriend going to a gathering like this one.

The crowd roared again at a ball plopping into the cup, and Maggie thought about the cell phone video—the anonymous tip she’d received from that night. The last hours before Charlotte’s murder. The six seconds of video had the decadent feel of this party—as if something could veer out of control at any moment, which made tonight both scary and exciting.

She’d spent many nights thinking about the infamous house party seven years ago. What had happened? Had Danny and Charlotte really gotten into an argument? Why did they separate when the cops busted up the party? And why couldn’t Danny remember anything? Maggie hadn’t been allowed to attend Danny’s trial, she was only ten years old at the time, but she’d since read all the transcripts.

PROSECUTOR:

You attended a party?



DEFENDANT:

Yes.



PROSECUTOR:

At Kyle Brawn’s house?



DEFENDANT:

Yeah.



PROSECUTOR:

What time did you leave?



DEFENDANT:

I don’t remember. I drank too much. I blacked out.



PROSECUTOR:

You ran out when the police arrived?



DEFENDANT:

I don’t remember, but I must have.



PROSECUTOR:

You fought with Charlotte at the party.



DEFENDANT:

No.



PROSECUTOR:

She told you she was pregnant and you had a fight.



DEFENDANT:

No!



PROSECUTOR:

If you don’t remember anything, how do you know that?



Someone touched her shoulder, and Maggie turned around, thinking Harper had returned. But it was him.

“Hey,” Eric said. “You made it.” He’d obviously been at the party awhile. His eyes were glassy, speech slurred.

She smiled, not sure what to say.

“Come with me,” he said, dragging her by the hand.

Soon she found herself in a laundry room making out with him. He reeked of pot and stale beer, and her eyes kept going to the dirty laundry piled in the basket on top of the dryer. She pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” Eric slurred.

“Nothing, but this isn’t how I—”

He grabbed her by the arms, pushing her against the wall. He jammed his tongue into her mouth. With one hand, he managed to hold both of her wrists above her head. With the other hand, he started groping her breasts.

“Stop,” Maggie said, yanking back.

But he didn’t. He kept her arms pinned. The fingers of his large hand squeezed her wrists together, both arms against the wall. It hurt and she was scared. And his other hand managed to slide down, unbutton her pants. Panic enveloped her.

She looked him in the eyes. They were nothing like earlier at the Center.

They were dark.

Wolfish.

“I said, stop!”

Another wave of terror coursed through her. Of all the horror stories her father had warned her about—exaggerated fears of a man who couldn’t bear another loss—here she was. He would be so disappointed in her. And she was in herself.

But there was one positive that had derived from all of Dad’s fears: he’d made sure his children were prepared if they ever encountered a monster. Self-defense classes, role-playing, emergency planning.

Maggie steeled herself. “Slow down,” she said, softer. “I’ll let you, but what’s the rush? Take off your shirt.”

He released her arms, yanked his hand from the waistband of her pants, then clumsily tugged off his shirt and threw it on the floor. Unexpectedly, he unbuttoned his pants and they dropped to the floor around his ankles.

“Touch it,” he said. His rank breath wafted over her.

Maggie tried to remain calm. She put her hands on the balls of his muscular shoulders now. She stared seductively into his eyes, trying not to show the panic in hers. “If that’s what you want.” She drew back slightly like she was going to lower to her knees, and Eric’s body shuddered.