Two Can Keep a Secret(57)
September 28, 2019: Brooke disappears
Then I hung it on my wall and stared at it for over an hour, hoping I’d see some kind of pattern emerge. I didn’t, but when Ezra came in, he noticed something I hadn’t. “Look at this,” he said, tapping a finger on August 2001.
“What about it?”
“Sadie came back to Echo Ridge in August 2001.”
“I know. I wrote it. So?”
“So we were born in May 2002.” I stared at him blankly and he added, “Nine. Months. Later,” enunciating each word slowly.
I gaped at him, blindsided. Of all the mysteries in Echo Ridge, our paternity has been the last one on my mind. “Oh no. No, no, no,” I said, leaping backward as though the timeline had caught fire. “No way. That’s not what this is for, Ezra!”
He shrugged. “Sadie said she had something more to tell us, didn’t she? That stuntman story has always been kind of sketchy. Maybe she looked up an old flame while she was—”
“Get out!” I yelled before he could finish. I yanked In Cold Blood out of the bookcase and threw it at him. “And don’t come back unless you have something useful, or at least not horrifying, to contribute.”
I’ve been trying to put what Ezra said out of my mind ever since. Whatever it could mean is totally separate from the missing girls, and anyway, I’m sure the timing’s just a coincidence. I would’ve brought it up with Sadie last night at our weekly Skype call if she hadn’t skipped it. Her counselor told Nana she was “exhausted.”
One step forward, one step back.
“Huh.” Ezra’s voice brings me back to the present. “This is different.” He separates a thin yellow sheet from everything else, smoothing a wrinkled corner.
I scoot closer to him. “What is it?”
“Car repair,” he says. “For somebody named Amy Nelson. A place called Dailey’s Auto in …” He squints at the sheet of paper. “Bellingham, New Hampshire.”
We both turn instinctively toward Malcolm. The only thing I know about New Hampshire is that his brother lives there. Used to live there.
Malcolm’s expression tightens. “I’ve never heard of it.”
Ezra keeps reading. “Front of vehicle damage due to unknown impact. Remove and replace front bumper, repair hood, repaint vehicle. Rush charges, forty-eight hours.” His brows rise. “Yikes. The bill’s more than two grand. Paid in cash. For a …” He pauses, his eyes scanning the bill. “A 2016 BMW X6. Red.”
Malcolm shifts beside me. “Can I see?” Ezra hands him the receipt, and a deep crease appears between Malcolm’s brows as he studies it. “This is Katrin’s car,” he says finally, looking up. “It’s her make and model. And her license plate.”
Mia grabs the thin yellow paper out of his hand. “Really? Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Malcolm says. “She drives me to school most days. And I park next to that car every time I drive my mom’s.”
“Who’s Amy Nelson?” Ezra asks.
Malcolm shakes his head. “No idea.”
“There’s a phone number for her,” Mia says, holding the paper in front of Malcolm. “Is that Katrin’s number?”
“I don’t know her number off the top of my head. Let me check.” Malcolm pulls his phone out and presses a few keys. “It’s not hers. But hang on, that number’s in my phone. It’s …” He sucks in a breath and turns to Mia. “You remember how Katrin sent me that text, asking me to invite Brooke to homecoming?” Mia nods. “She sent Brooke’s phone number, too. I saved it to Contacts. This is it.”
“Wait, what?” Ezra asks. “Brooke’s number is on a repair receipt for Katrin’s car?”
While Malcolm was scrolling, I was on my phone looking up Bellingham, New Hampshire. “The repair shop is three hours away,” I report.
“So Brooke …” Mia studies the receipt. “So Brooke helped Katrin fix her car, I guess. But they didn’t take it to Armstrong’s Auto—or even anyplace in Vermont. And they used a fake name. Why would they do that?”
“What did Katrin say about her car being wrecked?” I ask, looking at Malcolm.
Malcolm knits his brow. “Nothing. It wasn’t.” I blink at him, confused, and he adds, “It wasn’t wrecked, I mean. It’s fine. Maybe there’s some kind of mistake. Unless … wait.” He turns back to Mia, who’s still staring at the receipt. “When was the car fixed?”
“Um …” Mia’s eyes flick to the top of the paper. “It was brought in August thirty-first, and ‘Amy’ picked it up on September second. Oh, right.” She looks at Malcolm. “You and your mom were on vacation then, weren’t you? When did you get back?”
“September fourth,” Malcolm says. “The day of Lacey’s fund-raiser.”
“So you wouldn’t have known the car was gone,” Mia says. “But wouldn’t Mr. Nilsson have said something?”
“Maybe not. Katrin spent days at a time at Brooke’s house over the summer.” Malcolm taps an unconscious beat on his knee with one fist, his expression thoughtful. “So maybe that’s why Brooke got involved. She was Katrin’s cover while the car was getting fixed. Peter’s always telling her she needs to drive more carefully. She was probably afraid he’d take it away if he knew.”