All the Little Lights(95)

Leigh and Kay walked with Elliott, ushering him to his car. He kept his eyes on me, not looking forward until Kay said something to him.

Madison looked back at the crowd. The stadium lights dimmed, and hundreds of tiny glowing lights were visible. The students and parents began singing a hymn, and Madison tugged on my coat.

“I feel bad for saying this, but it’s creepy that they just tried to attack Elliott and are now singing ‘Amazing Grace.’”

“It is a little creepy. They were ready to tear him apart, and now they’re calm, standing there like pod people.”

“Let’s go.”

“You sure you don’t want to wait for Sam?” I asked.

“I’ll text him. We’ll meet up later.”

I walked with her to her 4Runner, the brand-new headlights erasing the evidence of what Presley and the clones had done. Madison pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the Juniper.

“This town has gone nuts,” she said, her eyes wide. “Seconds before, they were cheering for him. I’m glad the cops got him out of there. It could have been a lot worse.”

I shook my head. “It’s like they forgot to blame him until the candles came out.”

“Poor Elliott,” Madison said. “His teammates just stood there and let it happen when he won that game for them. He won for the whole town. I just feel so awful for him.”

Her pity made my heart sink. Elliott didn’t deserve any of this. He was just having the best moment of his life, and in an instant, it changed. In Yukon, he was a star. They grieved when he left. Now because of me, he was stuck in a place where most people thought he was guilty of murder, and worse, they thought he was getting away with it.

“Me too.”

“I feel bad for you, too, Catherine. He’s not the only one taking heat for this. And I know you didn’t do it. I just wish they’d find her or find who did it.” Madison parked in the Juniper’s driveway.

Madison hugged me, and I thanked her for the ride, following the black iron fence that protected the neighborhood from the Juniper to the gate. The 4Runner backed out into the street and headed back toward the school.

I pushed through and made my way into the house, pausing for a moment in the foyer to listen for a few seconds before climbing the stairs to the second floor. The hinges of my bedroom door whined when I opened it, and I leaned back against the old wood, looking up. Tears threatened to fill my eyes, but I blinked them back.

The music box on my dresser plinked out a few notes, and I walked over to it, opening the lid and greeting the ballerina inside. I twisted the crank and listened to the sweet song, letting the anger and fear melt away. Elliott would be here soon, away from the angry mob, away from the flickering candles, and one day he would be away from Oak Creek, safe from the accusing eyes of everyone we knew.

Rocks tapped against my window, and I lowered the music box, walking over and lifting the window.

Elliott climbed in, with a black-and-gray duffel bag hanging from a long strap across his chest. He stood and pulled his hoodie off, his hair pulled back into a low braid, his cheeks still flushed from the game.

“I went to Aunt Leigh’s to pick up a few things and then came straight here. Is it okay if I take a shower?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah, of course,” I whispered, pointing across the room.

He nodded once, offering a nervous smile before taking his duffel into the bathroom and closing the door. A few seconds later, the pipes began to whine. I looked up, wondering who could hear.

The music box still played, the dancer twirling. Elliott didn’t mention it, and I wondered how upset he was about the game. A part of me worried that at some point, he’d stop believing that loving me was worth it.

Less than ten minutes later, Elliott opened the door wearing a fresh T-shirt and red basketball shorts, holding something small in his hands. He padded to my bed in his bare feet and leaned over, tying leather strands to the head of my bed, letting the small hoop with a woven web inside hang over my pillow.

“It’s a dream catcher. My mom made this one for me when I was little. I thought you could use it.” He slid under the covers, shivering. “Is it always this cold in here?”

I stared at the beautiful shapes inside the circle, unable to look away. “Mama’s been keeping the thermostat lower to help with bills. She turns it up when we have new guests. You’ve had that since you were little?”

“New guests?”

“Other than our regulars.”

Elliott watched me for a moment and then lifted the covers, patting the space next to him. “Since I was a baby. It was in my crib.”

I tightened my robe. “Maybe we should, um . . .” I walked over to the foot of the bed, gripping the iron rails.

Elliott hopped up, moved my dresser against the door, and then helped me move my full-size bed against it. The panic that overwhelmed me with every sound was crippling. I’d stop and have to summon every bit of courage within me to continue.

Once we finished, I waited for a door to creak, a board to complain, anything that would signal movement outside my bedroom door. Nothing.

“Okay?” he asked.

I crawled under the covers next to Elliott. The sheets were cold for less than a minute, reacting to Elliott’s body heat. Having him here was like adding an electric blanket, and I kicked off my fuzzy socks, wondering if my fleece pants and long-sleeved thermal shirt would get too hot in the middle of the night.