Behind Every Lie(25)
The doors swung open. Fear turned my fingers to rubber bands. The flashlight slipped from my sweaty grasp, clattering onto the floor.
“Eva?” The voice was familiar.
“Jacob?” I stared at my old friend. “Shit! I nearly killed you!”
Jake eased the dimmer switch up, glancing dubiously at the flashlight I’d dropped. “With a flashlight?”
“What are you doing in here?” I braced a hand on the desk to steady myself, weak from the jolt of adrenaline.
“I saw you go around back. I was calling for you but you didn’t answer. The door was unlocked.”
I stared at Jacob, feeling rattled, as if I’d been abruptly shaken. I couldn’t understand why he’d come inside. It had been a long time since we were kids and could walk into each other’s houses unannounced.
He squinted at me, seeing my expression. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s fine,” I cut him off. “It’s good to see you.”
I reached out to hug him just as he moved to kiss my cheek, and we ended up caught in a clumsy half-embrace, his mouth landing on my jaw. We pulled apart and laughed awkwardly.
The last time we’d seen each other, we’d been naked.
Jacob’s face was lean, brown from the foreign sun. He was still skinny, still not much taller than me, but he’d filled out some. Fine lines fanned his green eyes. A few days’ worth of stubble covered his jaw. His dark hair was longer than I remembered, tousled. He wore faded jeans and a green military-style jacket.
“I’m sorry to hear about your dad,” I said. “He’s sick?”
“Yeah. End-stage cancer. I’m staying at his house until …” Jacob shook his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about Kat. Like, what the fuck happened? Do the police have any leads?”
“I don’t know. Andrew seems to think they … suspect me.”
Jacob stared, incredulous. Then he threw his head back and laughed. It was inappropriate and ill-timed, but something about it made me feel a tiny bit better. Like, yes, maybe this was all a horrible joke. Of course nobody really thought I could kill my mother.
“Is he insane? Why would he even think that?”
“I was struck by lightning a few blocks from here. The problem is, I can’t remember anything. The lightning wiped out my memory.”
“Struck by lightning? Christ, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Sorry for laughing. Just, the thought of you as some murdering badass …” He made a scoffing sound. “You cried after getting stung by a bee because you knew it would die. Anyone who knows you would never think you could hurt your mom.”
I handed him Mom’s letter. “Apparently she wasn’t actually my mom.”
He read the letter, then blew out a shocked breath. “She must’ve been involved in something. Do you have any idea what it was?”
“No. She never said anything. All I have is this stupid, cryptic letter!”
“Maybe she meant to tell you the full story in person.”
A shout came from down the street. I stood and peered out the wooden blinds. Detective Jackson and a cop I didn’t recognize stood next to my car, watching as an impound truck hitched it to the tow.
“Oh my God!” I backed away from the window and turned the light off, plunging the room into shades of sepia. The streetlight threw yellow strips of light onto the carpet through the blinds.
“That’s the detective!” I hissed. “He must really suspect me! He’s impounding my car!”
Suddenly I knew it wasn’t Mom’s death that would haunt me, but the blank space where my last memories of her should’ve been.
I’m sick of not trusting myself, I realized.
“I have to find out what happened that night,” I whispered to Jacob. “I need to know if someone else killed my mom, or if I did it.”
thirteen
kat
25 years before
MY HAND HOVERED OVER Rose’s front door. I rapped sharply, practicing what I would say.
This is our last day, Rose. Our last day.
The thought of not seeing her every day was truly ghastly. In the few short months I’d known her, Rose had become my closest confidante, my dearest friend. In all honesty, my only friend. But Seb was right. I needed to focus on Eva, especially this last month before she started school. I was certain Rose would understand.
“Looks like it’ll be another scorcher,” Rose said as we followed her into the sticky belly of the house. She wore a long, flowing skirt with a bright flower pattern and a tight rust-colored tank top, her cleavage on display. Her hair hung in glossy red waves to her shoulder blades. She looked cool and fresh. I, on the other hand, was baking in my brown trousers and collared shirt. I pressed my arms against my sides to hide the sweat stains.
I opened my mouth to tell her then. But Rose clapped her hands and announced that it was too hot to paint so she would take the day off.
“Shall we make lemonade?” she asked.
Laura and Eva jumped up and down, shrieking, “Yes, yes, yes!”
I smiled. “Very well, then, girls, settle down.”
Rose and I gathered the lemons from the pantry. She sliced the shiny yellow orbs in half, and we all took turns squeezing them. Eventually the girls tired of the task and began coloring. Sweat beaded on my hairline and my palms itched as Rose and I continued squeezing, the tart scent heavy in the air.