The Truth About Keeping Secrets(63)

‘OK, don’t get mad at me, but I was thinking about this the other day, and I wasn’t sure but now it seems … ah. Is it possible that maybe she’s the one that’s –’

‘Sending the texts.’ Leo looked at me. ‘Yeah. Yeah.’ I looked at the window. ‘I’ve thought about that.’

‘Based on the timeline you gave me … all the messages seem to coincide with her.’

‘With her doing what?’

‘Just, like, when you’re around her. The funeral. The day you met her at the cemetery. And now this. I mean, Sydney … that folder, man. What if opening it solves all this?’

I willed the car to sink into the ground so I wouldn’t have to talk about this any longer. ‘Because what if it’s something bad, Leo?’

‘Then you’ll know. Then you’ll know for sure that –’

‘No. What if it’s bad? She’s … everything. Everything would fall apart.’

Leo looked at me with this dumb gobsmacked expression. ‘Am I hearing this? You’re saying you don’t even want to know?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying. OK?’

‘You’re thinking about what you want to be true. This isn’t what I –’

‘Of course I am. She’s been there for months and I’m not sure I’d be able to handle losing that too. Losing her too.’

He thought about this for a moment. ‘If she was never actually there, or, if she wasn’t there in the way you thought she was, then you can’t really lose her.’

‘Oh, I can.’

‘I think you’re being short-sighted.’

‘I think I’m acting in self-preservation. I know what will kill me. This will. And I don’t think the truth is more important than that. Than my ability to fucking sleep at night.’

‘What if it does have something to do with your dad? Is June’s – I don’t know, sanctity – is she more important than that?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘If Alex – if I had known. Right? The extent of it. He told me … God, sorry, I fucking hate talking about this –’

‘Then don’t. I know what you’re going to say.’

‘No. Let me have my spiel. He told me some things. Right? Enough to paint a picture. But a shitty picture. And if I’d had all the details? If I’d known? I don’t know. I’m not sure I would have passed that up. Because I could have helped. I could have done something. Talked to him, or … gotten him talking to someone else. Maybe I could have – ah. It doesn’t matter. That’s all I’m saying. Maybe this is a chance to do something. Not for yourself. For her, maybe. And for your dad.’

Then something outside the window caught my eye. A slice of red in the dark.

June was running.

Heels clutched in her hand, she hurried through the parking lot, dress trailing behind her; she wasn’t looking back, so she wasn’t running from something, she was just … running. Got into her car. Accelerated through the parking lot, up and over a kerb, forcing herself past the traffic on to the main road in a flurry of shouts and horns.

Leo summed it up. ‘The fuck?’

I didn’t even know what to say.

‘What the fuck was that?’ he asked.

I shook my head. What could I have done? Gone after her? I didn’t know what to do, and something was very wrong, and when I got home she wouldn’t answer my calls or my texts and I knew that Leo was right.

Open it. I had to open the folder.

I went straight to Dad’s office and sat, breathed. I kept stealing glances at the window June had knocked on, and thought of her in here, with me, remembering how exciting that first night had been, then realizing how far away it all felt now. Tonight it felt like the office was watching me. It was sinister now, wondering, gossiping, taking bets on what I’d do next.

Open it. I had to.

I knelt down next to the filing cabinet, key in hand, and turned.

I had to do this. It was for her own good. It was for Dad’s own good. This was going to end, and I would know everything, and it wasn’t because she was some girl I had a crush on, it was because something was truly deeply wrong and I only hoped Dad would have approved.

Byers. Conley. Daniels.

I froze.

What?

Byers. Conley. Daniels.

Copeland. Copeland was missing.

I flicked through slowly at first, not really understanding. Then again, faster, and then through every single folder, thinking that maybe I’d put it in the wrong spot or it had got misplaced somehow. But it wasn’t there. There was no Copeland.

She was gone.

June was gone.





Chapter 15


I thought back: I hadn’t moved her. Of course I hadn’t. I’d made a point of keeping her there. So who could have taken it? Mom?

Then I remembered: New Year’s. The smashed picture. Someone had been in the office.

Someone had been in the files.

Someone had taken her. Someone must have. Whoever it was who smashed the picture, they knew her folder was in there, somehow, and didn’t want anyone else to have it. Someone made sure nobody would read about June …

Or June made sure nobody would read about June.