The Art of Not Breathing(63)

“He was bleeding?” I ask, feeling tears forming.

Tay wipes sweat from his forehead. “I thought it was blood. I realized only later it was oil from Danny’s bike.”

There is some comfort in the fact that he wasn’t bleeding. But it’s short-lived.

“I let him go,” Tay says, his voice barely audible. “I don’t think I meant to, but he was heavy and my shoulder felt like it was going to pop out. After he’d slipped from my arms, it was a relief. It was like the clock had just gone back and the whole thing never happened.”

“Tell me that’s not true,” I whisper. “Tell me you didn’t let go.”

“I wish I could turn back the clock again and this time bring him home to you.”

My head throbs as my sinuses become more blocked. I take some deep breaths to help compose myself.

“What did Dillon do?” I ask. “Wasn’t he helping you?”

“He was there, right behind me, but he was trembling too much, and the rocks made us unsteady on our feet. When Eddie slipped, Dillon threw himself into the water, but it was too late. I think he hit his head. He staggered about a bit and I tried to get him, but he just ran off.”

“Didn’t you go after him?”

“I tried, but Danny stopped me. He was standing in the long grass behind the beach, just watching us. He came back for his bike after all and saw me with Eddie’s body. He wouldn’t let me go after Dillon—he made me go home.”

“None of this makes sense! You, Danny, and Dillon all saw Eddie in the water, and none of you said anything? I’ve spent the last five years wondering where Eddie ended up, what happened to him, and you knew all along. You have destroyed my life, Tay. Destroyed it.”

Tay wraps his arms around himself and rocks back and forth. “You’ve got to believe how sorry I am.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask again. “Even later—the next day, the next week.”

“Danny made me promise.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He was older. I trusted him.”

“You’re lying, Tay. What aren’t you telling me? Are you protecting him?”

“No, I swear.”

“Did you make a pact with Dillon, too?”

“No. I never saw him again. Not until a few months ago.”

“Then why didn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t know. Danny was supposed to find Dillon and persuade him not to go to the police. He told me he’d sorted it—that he and Dillon had burned the T-shirt, that Dillon wasn’t going to say anything. But he lied, Elsie. Danny never spoke to him because he’s a coward. I swear I didn’t know that he’d hidden the T-shirt in the cave until a few days ago. When I told him about Dillon being in the hospital, he went crazy—saying he’d warned me all along not to get involved with you. That’s when he told me where the T-shirt was. I didn’t think you’d find it—I was still trying to work out what to do.”

I walk back to the top of the boathouse where the T-shirt lies, and Tay follows.

“How did you even end up with it?”

I hold Eddie’s T-shirt up for Tay to see, like a criminal investigator on CSI, only this is real, and the evidence belongs to my twin brother. I feel hollow and heavy at the same time.

“It all happened so fast,” he cries. “My hands were slippery. As I let him go, my finger somehow got caught—there must have been a tear—but I heard a rip, and the next thing I knew, he was gone and I had his T-shirt in my hands.”

It all comes flooding back. My father telling Eddie that he couldn’t wear the red one because it had a hole in it. The phone ringing, Eddie disappearing upstairs. Then we were in the car and Eddie was grinning, wearing his favorite red T-shirt with the lion logo on it.

My throat tightens.

“So when did you write the note to Dillon?”

“After the party on the Point. I knew straightaway he was the boy from the beach, and then he said you were his sister. I felt sick. He came to meet me but didn’t even give me a chance to talk. He asked me for the T-shirt, and when I said I didn’t have it, he smashed his fist straight into my nose and told me to stay away from you. When I talked to Danny about it, he said if I stayed around, the truth would eventually come out and we’d all be in serious trouble.”

I piece it all together. Dillon’s bloody knuckles that I thought were the result of dehydration, Tay’s bruised and bloodied nose that he claimed had happened in his sleep, the argument between Tay and Danny, Tay disappearing. There were so many signs that I just hadn’t seen.

“Maybe you just weren’t looking,” Danny had said the day I jumped off the harbor wall.

He was right.

I think about that day at the party and how badly I wanted to kiss Tay. How embarrassed I felt when he ran off, how angry I was with Dillon for ruining our moment. All three of them were hiding the most awful secret from me.

“You let him go,” I say.

This is where Dillon’s nightmares come from. The boy I love was the one who let Eddie go. I can never forgive Tay. Never.

“Take your things,” I whisper. “And don’t come back.”

“No, please,” he begs. “I want to make it up to you. I love you.”