Lies I Told(38)

“Yeah, maybe,” I said faintly.

The pizzas came a while later, and everyone gathered around the coffee table to eat. Parker made a trip to the fridge and pulled out another beer. I couldn’t be sure, but he seemed a little unsteady on his feet. I wondered how many he’d had.

Logan and I sat next to each other on the sofa, talking quietly about school and music and college. It was only the second time in my life that I’d had such an instant connection with someone. Parker had been the first, but our connection had been based on tragedy, on loss, on a shared survival instinct. Where Parker and I had huddled together like survivors in a life raft, Logan was pulling me out into the clear blue sea, teaching me that I could swim. That I could live outside the shelter of the boat that was both my refuge and my prison.

After dinner we changed into bathing suits and headed outside to the Jacuzzi. The night was chilly by Southern California standards, the salty spray of the ocean mingling with the chlorine-scented hot tub water. I sat next to Logan, wondering if I was feeling flushed from the hot water or from the strangely intimate experience of sitting close to him while both of us were nearly naked.

I watched the group interact through a surreal kind of haze. I was both part of them and apart from them. I could smile on cue and laugh. I could even participate in the conversation. But I was an actor reciting my lines, playing a part. I felt stupid. Why had I felt like I belonged? I would never, ever be one of them. Would never have that luxury. And I wasn’t talking about their money. They were at ease in one another’s company, drinking beer and making inside jokes and recounting their shared experiences, in a way I’d never been with anybody.

In a way I would never be with anybody.

Parker took a swig from his beer bottle and met my gaze across the water, steam rising between us like a veil. It was a reminder, and I rose from the water and stepped out of the Jacuzzi, reaching for my towel.

“I’m going to get some water. Does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll come with you,” Logan said, starting to rise.

“There’s no reason for both of us to drip water through your kitchen,” I laughed. “I’ll be right back.”

He eased back into the water with a nod.

I headed for the house.





Twenty-Nine


The lawn was dark, lit only at the edges and along the pathway by the landscaping lights. I let myself into the house through the doors off the terrace. It was strangely quiet, a soft glow emanating from the lights under the cabinets in the kitchen. It could have been any kitchen in any house in any city we’d worked.

I looked around, my mind doing a quick, almost instinctual calculation of the situation. Away from Logan and the others, with the clock ticking, it was easier to remember who I was, and I quickly ran the towel over my body, then wrapped my hair in it to avoid the drip marks that would outline my route through the house.

I moved through the kitchen and into the hallway, my bare feet silent on the stairs as I made my way to the second floor. My mom’s search of the house at the Fairchilds’ party had been perfunctory. I needed to double-check all the rooms on the second floor, just to be sure.

I started with the media room. I’d have other chances to check behind the closed doors—probably bedrooms—but Logan seemed to use the media room as his prime hangout spot. It might be a while before I had another opportunity to case it alone.

I headed for the walls, lined with bookcases. A large safe or panic room would have to be set into one of the walls, and I felt around the bookshelves, hoping for a break. When that didn’t work, I started shuffling books, looking for signs of a hidden room—books that didn’t line up with the alphabetical system clearly in place, bumps that might indicate a thick door hidden in the walls, a change in the sound of my fist rapping against the wood as I made my way down the line of shelves. Nothing seemed out of place.

I stood there, staring at the shelves and contemplating the merits of looking closer before discounting the idea. I’d been in the house for at least five minutes, probably a little bit longer. If I wanted a look at the other rooms, I needed to hurry.

I headed for the closed door across the hall from the media room. Its comfortable but nondescript decor suggested a guest room, and I made a quick search of the walls and closet before moving on. I’d made it through another guest room and two bathrooms when I heard the sound of voices. I glanced out the bathroom window and caught sight of Harper and Raj moving toward the house, Logan and the others trailing behind them.

I did a quick scan of the hallway, making sure everything was the way I found it, before bounding down the stairs. Pulling the towel from my hair, I wrapped it around my body and was just sliding onto one of the kitchen stools when the door opened.

“Hey!” Logan said. Worry shadowed his eyes, and he crossed the tile floor. “You okay?”

I dropped my head into one of my hands. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling very well.”

He laid a hand on my forehead as the others came in. “Did you get your water?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t make it that far.”

He crossed the kitchen to the sink and filled a glass with water. “Drink,” he said, pushing the glass toward me.

“What’s up?” David asked. “You okay, Grace?”

“I just felt a little light-headed,” I said.