You Are Not Alone(101)

I’m stunned into speechlessness.

“But Valerie probably wouldn’t go to James’s memorial,” Belinda continues.

This is it. I have the piece of evidence I need to give the police. Detective Williams will surely investigate Valerie now.

My body begins to tremble and I feel tears slide down my cheeks.

“They weren’t close, you see. And Valerie was always out of the house at play rehearsal or with her friends. You know how girls are at that age.”

I’m barely listening as Belinda continues. All I want to do is hang up and phone Detective Williams.

“If any of my daughters would want to attend, it would be the other two.”

The hair on my arms stands up as an electric charge courses through my body.

“Valerie has two sisters?” I whisper.

“Yeah.” Belinda sounds surprised. “Cassandra and Jane.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, seeing those three sleek heads close together in the back of the cab.

“Thank you, Mrs. Moore,” I finally manage to reply.

“So where did you say this memorial for Trey will be? I mean James—Trey’s his old nickname, so it’s how I always think of him. Anyway, is it just for classmates, or…”

Belinda’s voice is fading away.

“Hello?” I hear her say, just before I hang up.





CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE



VALERIE


Nineteen years ago

IT WAS THE BEST DAY Valerie had experienced since she’d transferred to Mossley Prep, the school for rich kids in her town.

She didn’t know anyone well yet—it sucked to start at a new high school during senior year—but right before lunch, the drama teacher posted the cast list for the spring production of Grease.

She’d won the part of Rizzo, with its showstopping solo.

“Congrats,” said Lisa Scott, the spoiled little blonde who always got the leads. She’d be playing Sandy.

“Thanks,” Valerie responded, thinking, I’m going to make everyone forgets you’re even onstage.

Valerie was walking home, breathing the crystalline air and humming along to the music in her mind, when her stepbrother pulled up in his Audi convertible. “Wanna ride?”

Trey was cute in a preppy kind of way, but he wasn’t her type. Plus, it was gross to think about him that way. They were related now, even though they barely saw each other at home. He was only around every other weekend, and she spent as little time as possible in that stuffy house with her weird stepfather. Whenever she had free time, she’d go visit her friends from her old high school, the ones she’d been torn away from when her mother remarried.

Still, occasionally when Trey visited and they crossed paths, he’d hold up a joint and waggle his eyebrows, and they’d sneak into the woods bordering their backyard. He’d imitate their classmates and sometimes slip her a copy of an upcoming test that he’d somehow obtained. Trey could be fun.

She hopped in the car.

A joint was in the ashtray of his Audi today, too. “Let’s stop by the river.” He took a drag and passed the joint to her. She inhaled, holding the smoke in her lungs.

“Nah, I should go home.” She wanted to start memorizing her lines.

“C’mon.” He turned the wheel in the direction he wanted to go. “Everyone’s there.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

Everybody was at the river that afternoon—including a guy Valerie liked, another senior named Mateo, who was into black-and-white photography and played bass, which was cool.

Feeling bold from her triumph at school and from the joint, Valerie went to sit beside Mateo, leaving Trey to hang with his buddies. She felt Trey’s eyes on her, and once he called out for her to come grab a beer, but she waved him off.

Barely a half hour after they arrived, Trey walked over and stood staring down at her. “Time to go.” She was leaning against Mateo, admiring on the screen of his Nikon photographs he’d taken.

Valerie had to shield her eyes when she looked up at Trey; the sun was behind him, turning him into a dark silhouette.

Mateo’s leg was pressed against hers, and its warmth felt delicious. “Not yet,” she told Trey.

He stood there another minute. Then he said, “I’m leaving.”

Valerie rolled her eyes at Mateo. But he was looking at his watch. “Damn, I’ve gotta go, too.”

So Valerie stood up, brushing off the back of her skirt. “Hold on, I’m coming,” she called as she hurried to catch up with her stepbrother.

The moment she slipped into the passenger seat he revved the engine and peeled out. Her door wasn’t even fully shut.

“Jeez, Trey. What’s the rush?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he drove around a bend.

“You’re going the wrong way.”

He jerked the wheel, pulling the car into a dead end. “You’re such a whore,” he spit out.

She stared at him in disbelief; was this some kind of a joke? His face was all red and the cords in his neck stood out.

Her hand, almost of its own accord, crept toward the door handle. But before she could open it, he propelled himself over the console, moving so fast he was on top of her before she fully realized what had happened.