Chapter Eighteen

Now

FEBRUARY 11

TESSA RUMMAGED THROUGH KIT’S CLOSET. She was looking for a top—a specific one Kit used to love. White, low-cut, but flowy and elegant. Sexy but demure, perfect casual party attire, with tiny strawberries lining the hem.

It was Saturday night. A full week from The Night.

And tonight was Jay Kolbry’s Valentine’s Day party.

Even though it seemed crazy—and it was—Tessa was still determined to go. Maybe it was the chimerism, maybe not, but she felt this pull inside her to keep going, to keep pursuing answers.

And if she was going to go to this thing, she needed something to wear. Her entire wardrobe was T-shirts and baggy jeans.

But the shirt was nowhere to be found, and Tessa wondered if maybe Kit had gotten rid of it, or had loaned it to Lilly.

Or maybe—a dark thought struck her. Maybe Kit had been wearing it the night she died.

Was that really why Tessa was in here, searching? Did she remember seeing it on Kit sometime last Saturday?

Kit, she thought. Give me a hint.

She remembered how Kit used to curl up on the dryer sometimes to take a nap. She liked how warm and rumbling it got when there was a load spinning inside. Sometimes Tessa would go down to the basement and find Kit like that, her flowing, flaxen hair wrapped around a face as serene as that of a lioness that had just devoured its prey. Once Tessa had found her using her push-up bra as a pillow. “Hey, that’s mine,” Tessa had said, startling Kit awake.

Kit sat up. “This?” she asked, dangling the bra in front of her. Kit had probably been around fourteen then—it must’ve been about three years ago—but she gave Tessa this wise, profound look with her pretty eyes that held just the faintest whiff of pity—if you accused her of it, she’d deny it. “I hope you know boys can tell the difference,” she said simply. Then she hopped off the dryer and exited the room, leaving Tessa alone with her abandoned bra, the loud rumbling of the boxy old machine, and the familiar sense that no matter what she said or did, she was always wrong, or at least just off-center from the real issue, and missing the point.

Tessa gave up and let the dresses in Kit’s closet swing back into their place, a gentle jostling of hangers, a series of pastels swaying and then settling, as if moved by a light breeze.

She turned and dumped out Kit’s hamper, expecting a massive pile of dirty shirts and sweaters and underwear.

But all that was inside was one tiny piece of fabric, stowed in here as if to keep it hidden.

She reached down and picked it up. A light purple pair of underwear unfolded in her palm. Lacy boy shorts. Weirdly, it still had tags on it, like it hadn’t been worn, like it was just stashed in here for safekeeping.

These were most definitely not hers.

Where had she seen this underwear before?

Holding it up, she noticed it had a tiny silver charm on it, in the shape of a heart.

Her pulse picked up. Kit, are you here? What is it? What is it?

Nausea threatened to overwhelm her. Where. Had. She. Seen. This.

The nausea turned to dread as the memory dawned over her.

It looked a lot like the lilac-colored bra Kit had been wearing when she died. The one from the pictures Tessa had looked at, at the precinct.

As if the two were part of a matching set.

She looked again at the tag. It was from Lupine, where Lilly used to work. Before.

She couldn’t say why this unsettled her, but it did.

She stuffed the underwear into her bag to worry about later.

She had a party to go to.