Every Last Fear(73)

The plane hit a patch of turbulence and Maggie clutched the armrest. Tommy gazed up at her, smiling, the headphones giant on his head. When was the last time she’d felt that safe and secure, that invincible? Had she ever? She thought so. Before a young girl was found murdered at Stone Creek. The boogeyman could still be out there, her dad reminded her and anyone who’d listen. Maggie had been on the hunt for him ever since.

Sure, she’d had doubts over the years. She didn’t really know Danny. She’d been only ten when he went away. He’d been larger than life. The boy who playfully called her dork, mussed her hair whenever he walked by, gave her piggyback rides. She remembered him playing tea party with her and her dolls. Remembered going to the football games, feeling special that she was Danny Pine’s sister. She didn’t remember Danny being home much. Back then their parents didn’t believe in monsters, and let the kids come and go. Maggie knew Danny was no saint. He drank too much, wasn’t particularly kind to the unpopular kids, and wasn’t a great boyfriend, at least from what Maggie had learned working his case over the years. But he also wasn’t a murderer. She believed that. Needed to believe that.

Maggie chewed the inside of her cheek, examining the purple spots on her wrists again, wondering if Mom would notice them. She then caught her father gazing at her from across the aisle. He did that a lot. She’d catch him stealing looks at her. He smiled, then put his head back, closed his eyes. Mom rested her head on his shoulder.

That was it, she decided. Maggie would wait to tell Mom about what had happened at the party until they got home. She could suck it up. She had one more decision to make: when to tell her father about the email she’d received right before they boarded the flight. From the cell phone aggregation service—the company Toby had hooked her up with. She thought she’d thrown away two hundred bucks, but the report arrived as promised, a one-page map showing blue pins at two locations in Tulum.

The first was the Moloko Bar, where Charlotte—or someone pretending to be Charlotte—had made the call. It verified the caller ID. But more interesting was the second blue dot. It pinged for only one day at an address a few blocks away from the bar. Maybe that was where the caller lived or was staying. If Maggie showed the report to her dad—who at that moment was ordering another beer and beaming—he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. Whatever fun they were going to squeeze in before going to the Moloko Bar would vanish. She was going tell him, just not right away. Maybe if she waited, the trip would be about them.

She looked across the cabin at her father again. Yeah, who was she kidding?





CHAPTER 45


MATT PINE

“Is he always like this?” Matt looked over at his grandfather, who sat catatonic in his old armchair in the nursing home suite. Matt and his aunt were at the small bistro-style dining table. The room was larger than the one his grandfather had occupied when Matt was a boy. And it was cozy, decorated with framed family photos, houseplants, and furniture Matt remembered from his grandfather’s house. Whatever you could say about his gruff aunt, she’d taken good care of her dad.

“He’s gotten much worse this year,” Cindy said. “But when your mom visited, he came alive. She always had that effect on him.”

“Does he know?”

Cindy shook her head. She didn’t say so, but Matt could tell she thought there was no point in telling his grandfather about the tragedy. Matt didn’t push it. But didn’t his grandfather have a right to know that his daughter was dead? That his son-in-law had perished? That two of his grandchildren were gone?

There was a tap on the door and a nurse came into the room. She had a smile on her face—until she noticed Cindy.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Ford, I didn’t know you were still here. I can come back.”

“Where’s Alvita?” Cindy said. “I told Chang that my father didn’t need a series of strangers tromping in and out of here. He likes Alvita. I like Alvita.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Ford. She’s off today.”

Cindy frowned.

“I’ll come back,” the nurse said, retreating as fast as she could out of the room. Matt didn’t blame the woman.

Cindy turned back to Matt. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“It’s about the services.”

Matt had already fielded dozens of texts from Cindy about the funeral, and wondered how there could possibly be more questions—more decisions about the flowers, the photos to display, the program, the obituary, and the other things Matt cared nothing about. He supposed immersing herself in the details was how Cindy was coping with the grief.

“Noah Brawn would like to have the wake at his home,” Cindy said.

Matt thought about this. “Mom’s high school boyfriend? The guy from the documentary? Won’t it be weird to—”

“Look, it’s not ideal. I frankly never liked Noah when we were growing up. But he’s the governor of the state now. The reason your grandpa has this big room. And I think your parents would want this.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I’m not so sure that my—”

“We need Noah for Danny’s pardon.”

And there it was. His brother’s case had dominated his family in life, so of course it would dominate in death. There was no use fighting about it.