All the Little Lights(92)

An arm appeared over my right shoulder, turned the dial, and then yanked, hard. The latch released, and I grabbed Elliott’s arm with both hands, feeling my breath catch in my throat.

He pressed his right cheek against my left, his skin feeling like sunshine on mine. He smelled like soap and serenity, his voice warming me like a soft blanket. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head. He was important. I should protect him the way he did me, but I wasn’t strong enough to let go. Elliott was anchoring me to everything normal I had left in the world.

Elliott let go of my locker and wrapped his arm across my collarbones, holding on to my shoulder, his cheek still against mine.

“I’m so sorry about last night, Catherine. I swore I’d never do that again. You’re the last person I’d want to see that. I was tired and raw, and . . . I lost it. I would never, ever lay a hand on you. Just doors, apparently. And trees . . . and Cruz Miller. Aunt Leigh says I need a punching bag in my room. I . . .”

I turned, burying my face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. His warm lips pressed against my hair, and then he pressed his cheek against the same spot.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

I shook my head, feeling tears run down my nose. I couldn’t speak, feeling more vulnerable in that hour than I had in three years.

“How was it at home?”

The hall cleared, and the bell rang, but we remained.

“I’m just . . .” Tears overflowed onto my cheeks. “I’m very tired.”

Elliott’s eyes danced while the wheels in his head turned. “I’m staying tonight.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He pressed his forehead against mine. “Do you know what it would do to me if something happened to you? I’d cut off my throwing hand to keep you safe.”

I held him tighter. “So we’ll keep each other safe.”



The engine of Madison’s mother’s Nissan hummed quietly as it idled in front of the Juniper. Madison picked at the steering wheel, recounting her minutes with Detective Thompson.

“Once my dad came in,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “he changed his tune, but oh, was he sure I knew something. Yes, I think she bashed out my headlights. That doesn’t mean I’d kidnap her or kill her or do whatever happened to her. Thompson was . . .”

“Relentless,” I said, staring down Juniper Street. The wind was blowing the branches of the bare trees, making me shiver.

“Yes, that. He said he might call us to the station. Me, you, even Sam. But he is obsessed with Elliott. Do you think . . . do you think it’s because he’s Cherokee?”

“His aunt Leigh seems to think so. I’m sure she’s right.”

Madison growled. “He’s the best of us! Elliott is a great guy. Everyone loves him! Even Scotty Neal, and Elliott took his quarterback position on the football team.”

“They don’t love him now,” I said. We’d been getting harassed with anonymous notes all day. “Rumors are spreading. They think because we were questioned, we did it. Whatever it is.”

“Some people think Presley’s dead.”

“Do you think she’s dead?” I asked.

Madison grew quiet. “I don’t know. I hope not. I hope she’s okay. I really do.”

“Me too.”

“If she was taken, it wasn’t us, but it was someone. He’s still out there. That freaks me out. Maybe that’s why everyone is so hell-bent on blaming us. If they know it’s us, then they feel safer somehow.”

“I guess,” I said. “Thanks for the ride home.”

“You’re welcome. Are you going to the game this weekend? It’s going to be weird cheering and having fun with Presley still missing. Some people are saying they’re going to hold a vigil before the game.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if it’s appropriate. I don’t want to leave Elliott alone, though.”

“We’ll go together.”

I nodded and pulled on the handle, stepping out of the Nissan, the dead grass crunching beneath my shoes as I walked from the curb to the sidewalk. The ground was dusted with billions of tiny specks of Oklahoma snow, much of what wasn’t blown away settling into the cracks of the concrete. I stopped at the black iron gate, gazing up at the Juniper.

Madison’s chipper goodbye was a jarring contrast, startling me for half a second before I waved.

The Nissan pulled away, and I reached for the gate’s handle, pressing down and hearing the familiar whine of the hinges as it opened and then again when the springs pulled it shut. I wished for Althea or Poppy or even Willow to be on the other side of the door. Anyone but Duke or Mama.

“Baby, baby, baby.”

I sighed and smiled. “Althea.”

“Give me that coat and come in here for some hot cocoa. It’ll warm you right up. Did you walk home?”

“No,” I said, hanging my coat on a vacant hook by the door.

I carried my backpack to the island and set it next to a stool before climbing up. Althea set a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of me, complete with a handful of marshmallows. She wiped her hands on her apron and leaned on the counter, resting her chin in her hand.

“Althea, why do you stay here? Why don’t you stay with your daughter?”