The Last of the Moon Girls(75)

“Right then,” Lizzy said, picking up the paper. “I’d better go fill her in on what’s been happening.”

Rhanna’s bedroom door was closed, a mix of Joplin and patchouli incense bleeding out into the hall from beneath the door. Lizzy tucked the folded Chronicle under her arm and knocked.

“Come,” Rhanna called over the gritty strains of “Piece of My Heart.”

Lizzy experienced a wave of déjà vu as she stepped into the room. Artist grotto meets head shop was how Rhanna had once described it. The walls were still apple green, still decorated with black-light posters and bits of beaded macramé. On the dresser, amid a puddle of tie-dyed scarves, a lava lamp undulated with bright orange goo.

“Hey,” Rhanna said sheepishly. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a spill of paint tubes and colored pencils.

“What are you doing?”

“Laying low, mostly. I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to get all wiggy and then walk out. I just . . . It’s still hard sometimes. But I went out this morning and checked on the soap. It looks good. I think we can pull them later on.”

Lizzy nodded, distracted.

“I’m trying, Lizzy. I really am.”

“I know you are.”

“So . . . am I out?”

“No,” Lizzy said evenly. “You’re not out. But we need to talk.”

Rhanna’s smile evaporated. She reached over and lifted the arm on the record player. Janis went silent. “Okay.”

Lizzy sat on the edge of the unmade bed. “I need to fill you in on some things that have been going on, and I need you to listen to me and not say anything until I’m finished. Can you do that?”

Rhanna clamped her lips tight and nodded.

“There’s something I should have told you before now. Since I’ve been back, I’ve been looking into what actually happened the night Heather and Darcy Gilman disappeared. It isn’t why I came back, but when I saw the pond again, I knew it was something I needed to do.”

At the mention of the pond Rhanna had grown visibly pale. Lizzy paused, waiting for some kind of response. When none came, she continued. “I went to see Randall Summers. He told me I was wasting my time, that in essence there was no investigation, and I should leave it alone. But I couldn’t. Andrew hooked me up with a detective, an ex–Salem Creek cop who actually worked the case. You might remember him. His name is Roger Coleman.”

Rhanna sat eerily still, but managed a nod.

“Things he said make me question how seriously the police took the investigation, things about Randall Summers. He still has all his notes from the case. He’s been combing through them, looking for anything they might have missed. In the meantime, I’ve been doing a little sleuthing of my own.”

Rhanna’s mouth dropped open. “You what?”

“I’ve been asking questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“I met with Susan Gilman. I wanted to know about her husband, what kind of father he was, and if she thought he could have hurt their daughters. She doesn’t, but I’m not so sure. I paid him a visit, and to say he’s not a nice man is putting it mildly.”

“Lizzy, why haven’t you told me any of this until now?”

Lizzy looked down at her hands. It was time to be honest, brutally so if necessary. “I didn’t want you to get . . . how you get. I can’t afford one of your meltdowns while I’m trying to do this. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re not exactly popular around here.”

“I suppose that’s valid,” Rhanna said after a brief but stony silence. “So why tell me now? What’s changed?”

Lizzy pulled the newspaper from beneath her arm, unfolded it, and handed it to Rhanna. “There’s an article in this morning’s paper about the fire.”

Rhanna scanned the article, her hand slowly creeping to her throat. “Oh god . . .”

“I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“They’re saying . . .”

“They think the fire might have been set by someone who wanted me to stop asking questions.”

Rhanna stared at her, her expression a blend of confusion and panic. “You never said anything about a doll or a note.”

“It happened right after I went to see Summers, so the timing’s suspicious.”

Rhanna’s eyes went wide and glassy, her arms folded tight to her chest. “Peter, Paul, and Mary . . .”

“They’re just trying to scare me into letting it go.”

“Maybe you should.”

“I need to know what happened.”

“Althea’s gone, Lizzy. Nothing’s going to change that.”

“I know. But I can change what people think. I can change how they remember her. How they remember all of us.”

Rhanna shook her head, eyes squeezed tight, like a petulant child shutting out a parent. “I don’t care what people think. I can’t go through that again.” She was rocking now, beginning to unravel.

Lizzy reached for her hand but caught herself in time. Touching her would only make things worse. “Rhanna,” she said slowly and clearly. “I need you to keep it together. Can you do that?” She paused, but received no response. “If you can’t, maybe you should leave, because I need to do this. I am doing this.”