The dark things he’d said about his family bothered me. He hadn’t seemed surprised by the content of the stories as much as the fact people had heard them. I’d had a feeling all the attitude he spewed was a cover to protect himself, but if he didn’t know we’d heard the rumors until today, why was he so unfriendly from day one?
“How was school?” Mom sat in the chair across from me. Her wide brown eyes narrowed.
“Fine. Good.” I corrected a minute too late and she caught it.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I have a big paper due in Ohio history. We got the rubric today and I’m worried.” Both parts of my statement were true enough, though not necessarily connected to one another in any way.
“Who dropped you off?”
“What?” She was watching. Jeez.
“Uh huh. What’s he like?” She leaned in toward me. A small smile curved her lips.
“Who?” Could she see him from the house? From the sidewalk, there were three steps to a walkway. The walkway ran to our porch steps. Four more steps brought visitors to the front door. It didn’t seem possible to see the driver inside a car from our house, not when I was on the side nearest her.
“I didn’t realize it was such a tough question. How long are you going to think it over?” Her smile grew. “There’s only one family in town driving a brand new Mercedes, honey. It didn’t take a private detective.”
“Oh. He’s nice.” Sort of. Not really. I picked at the roll beside my salad. Mom had stacked grilled chicken slices over greens, which meant she was too tired to deal with her more complicated recipes. I was thankful.
“He picked you up from swim?”
“Yeah.”
“I know I’m getting old, but aren’t teenage girls usually keyed up after the new guy drives them home?” Mom turned her head slightly, trying to get a read on me.
“Mom? Do you still have your books on Mythology?”
She set her fork down. “Why?”
“I saw Liam looking it up online. I thought you could help. Maybe he could borrow your books?” Growing up, she’d had an entire shelf in Dad’s study filled with books on mythology. I liked to sneak in and look at the watercolor pictures in the biggest tome. The book was heavy and hard to manage with my little hands, but it had smelled like an old attic, dry and peppery. I’d liked it. When she caught me tracing the images of sea nymphs on blank paper, she’d put all the books away. I’d looked every day after school for signs of them, but they were gone.
“Honey, I got rid of those old books years ago.”
“Right.” The books didn’t matter anyway. After our talk in his car, Liam and I probably wouldn’t be speaking again soon. Everything about him left me dangling, waiting for the rest of the story, but only one of us thought our story was over. He’d said goodbye, but I saw us stretching out in an unending ribbon of time. I pinched my eyes shut. That made no sense. Besides, he’d said the website was Oliver’s. It was time I stopped trying to find common ground with Liam. I covered my tummy with one palm, hoping to settle the sudden nausea. I needed more sleep.
Mom studied me. “I wonder what got him interested in Norse mythology. There are plenty more relevant things to research. What’s wrong with technology in medicine, or drone building, or something current?”
“I didn’t say he was looking up Norse mythology. Why didn’t you assume I meant Greek mythology?”
Mom looked at me, unblinking. “You asked for my books. They were Norse.”
My thoughts wobbled, unsteady in my mind. An unusual brand of tension zipped between us. “Not all of them.”
Her expression seemed to challenge me. To what?
The doorbell rang and I nearly fell off my chair.
Mom looked past me to the door. “Expecting company?”
“Justin.” Shoot. My tummy clenched for a new reason.
Mom followed me to the door. “Hello, Justin. Come in. We have salad.”
“Salad?” Justin cocked an eyebrow. “I’m a meat and potatoes guy, Mrs. Ingram. This doesn’t happen on accident.” He curled a forearm at his side.
“Certainly not.” She laughed. “You have your mother’s sense of humor and your dad’s face. I’d venture to say genes have more to do with those arms than meat and potatoes. Can I get you a soda?”
“Thanks.” Justin followed Mom to the kitchen, and I trailed behind.
“Liam Hale drove Callie home from swim today. What do you know about him?” Mom handed Justin a soda, feigning nonchalance.
Justin gave me a sidelong glance. “He’s new.”
She locked palms over her hips. “And you aren’t. You watch over Callie. You have since grade school. You must have an opinion on this. Dish.”
“I don’t know him, Mrs. Ingram, but I plan to fix that.” Justin cracked open his soda and leaned against the kitchen counter.
“Good.” Mom nodded and walked away, giving us space.
“Come on.” I led the way to my room and shut the door halfway. Mom said the door stayed open when I had boys over. I agreed. I didn’t want her sneaking upstairs and listening in on something private. I sat at my desk with a view of the stairs.
Justin set his soda on a stack of paperbacks beside my keyboard. “Okay, hear me out before you get pissed off.”
“What’d you do?”
“Nothing. Hardly anything. Something you should have. Scoot over.” He reached around me to the keyboard and typed Liam’s name in the search engine.
“Justin!”
“Wait. Look.”
Pages of search results came back on the Hale family. I couldn’t process the information fast enough. Cases against the family, dropped out of court. Speculation the accusers were paid off or intimidated into silence. Photos of Liam, Oliver and the man in the sweater vest entering dark buildings. Captions claimed the Hales were part of some elite rich guy club and speculated over various scandals. His father’s murder. I gasped.
“The gossip’s true, Callie. Their family is a big deal where they came from. If my family went to unmarked buildings at night, no one would care, and I guarantee it wouldn’t be in the newspaper. Something’s wrong with them. I researched them for about an hour before I came here. It felt wrong to look behind your back. I thought we could read the articles together and make some logical decisions.”
“Decisions?” My mind blanked. Decisions on what? “Liam’s father was murdered.” How bad would that screw me up? No wonder he was guarded and didn’t like the stepdad. I’d wanted my parents to split up. His dad was yanked, violently, from his life. “They live under such scrutiny. It looks like his family was photographed everywhere they went.”
“You can’t seriously want to get involved with this guy.” Justin’s voice dropped an octave. “People with money can’t be trusted. There’s your evidence. They covered claims against them. Don’t you wonder what kind of claims they were? I’m pretty sure they weren’t parking tickets. Think about what you’re starting. Don’t go jumping in without looking first.”
“I don’t jump without looking.”
“Callie.” He rubbed my shoulders in his giant hands and I flinched. “I’m trying to look out for you. It’s harder when you ignore solid advice.” Justin leaned over me, pressing his chest to my back, typing again.
“You don’t have to worry about Liam. He drove me home and dumped me.” My nose and eyes stung. “He said his family is a mess and we shouldn’t be friends.”
Justin pressed his lips to my head. “I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t.
“Why did reporters follow them around?” I ignored the kiss, not wanting to think more about it than necessary. Justin’s touches had new meaning. I couldn’t get my head straight enough to address our relationship before the next bomb hit. I’d wanted to talk with him about us. Now all I could think of was the Hales. A million new questions came on the wings of Google.
“They’re rich. Like celebrities, based on money and legacy. The Rockefellers or Trumps of Europe.”
“You really think they moved to another country to cover their tracks?” I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. Plus, any decent criminal knows running is an admission of guilt.”
Justin moved to my side and knelt, gathering my hands in his. “Listen, I can’t stay right now, but I wanted to show you what I found. You’re smart enough to make your own decisions. You can keep searching or not. Your choice.” He cleared his throat and squeezed my hands. “I care about you. You know that. I think what we’ve got is more than a friendship, and you’re leaving for college soon.” His crystal blue eyes pierced me to the chair. “When you leave, I don’t want to wonder what might have been.”
I took a long breath. A sliver of my heart urged me to climb inside his arms and be safe, stay in Zoar and see what happened. The rest of me, all the parts that made me crazy and challenged my friends, coworkers and parents, refused to settle for safe. I wanted an adventure, and Justin deserved one, too.
“Justin.” I squeezed his hands back. “I can’t.”
The hopeful expression on his face melted. He dropped my hands and stood. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“No. Not okay, but I won’t fight you. You’re stubborn as hell and if I get pushy, you’ll deny me on principle.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m a bull rider, Callie. I don’t give up when I land in the dirt.” He pressed his lips against my temple in a chaste, but meaningful, toe-curling way.
I sucked air.
“See you tomorrow?”
I nodded dumbly as he left my room, tapping the top of the door frame as he passed through, like always. His jaunty footfalls thumped down the stairs to the front door.
“See ya, Mrs. Ingram.”
The door snapped shut behind him.
“Bye, Justin.” Mom’s voice came from the bathroom across the hall. I’d missed her coming upstairs, despite my half-open door.
“Mom!” I shut the windows on my computer screen as she came into view. “You were listening?”
“I was not.”
I stared in disbelief.
She crossed the room to my bed and peered through the curtains. “What do you think about the Hale family? Do you think any of the speculation is true? None of it’s good. That’s for sure.”
Clearly, she’d been listening. I rolled my eyes and pushed aside the fact we’d talked about Liam before discussing Justin’s declaration. If Mom was skipping that conversation, I certainly wasn’t bringing it up.
“I don’t know. I’ve only spoken with Liam. Oliver acts like Mr. Personality. I don’t know anything about their parents.” I cringed at the word, remembering Liam had lost his dad and didn’t like his stepdad. “You had Mrs. Hale over for tea. What did you think of her?”
“I think she’s troubled.”
Troubled. Old Mrs. Printz had used the same word to describe Liam’s great-grandmother Mary-Catherine.
“Why do you say that?”
Mom turned to me with a look I didn’t like, too much like the day she told me what Dad had done. She didn’t speak.
My chest constricted. “Mom. I like him. I need to know if that’s not okay.”
She released a long breath. “Victoria’s struggling with the cultural differences here and misses her brothers. She said there were complications with the move and she has to return home soon. She worries about leaving her boys alone. I told her kids are resilient, but she didn’t look convinced. She doesn’t want to go, but she was called back. She didn’t say for how long.”
“Her husband died.”
Mom approached me slowly and stroked my hair. “Ah. Grief is an unspeakable thing.”
“He was murdered. He died because he was murdered.” Reading it online was one thing. Saying it aloud was something else altogether.
Mom nodded. “I agree with Justin. You’re a smart girl. Do your due diligence here. Normally, I’d say not to dig up dirt for the sake of finding reasons to push people away, but I think, maybe, this is an exception. They aren’t your average family.”
“What do you know?”
Mom shook her head. “Nothing. Probably less than you.”
“She’s not your patient. This isn’t a breach of confidentiality.”
“Of course not. I’m only speaking based on the things we do know about them.”
I opened a new window on my laptop and typed Hale murder in the search engine.
“Atta girl. I’m going to jump in the shower and get my things together for work tonight.”
“’Kay.”
Mom pulled my door shut on her way out.
My nerves were frayed and standing on end by the time she left for work. I’d neglected my homework, opting instead to read articles in tabloids and blog posts about the Hale family. Justin was right, all the “official” reports were buried, or at least I couldn’t find them, but there was a lot to be said for a teenage girl in reconnaissance mode. I found multiple blogs written by girls who screamed injustice. The girls claimed they went out with Liam or Oliver and came home with a headache and a fuzzy memory of the night. One went so far as to describe going to the ER for a rape kit because she didn’t know what happened to her. She wasn’t raped but blamed the Hales when they didn’t have answers for her. When one girl learned the others had had similar experiences, their parents formed a legal mob and took the Hale family to court, seeking compensation for damages. The cases had been thrown out because the allegations were hard to prove without evidence, memories, or witnesses.
The girls didn’t remember being attacked, but they were bruised and sore. Not good. Still, no one could say if they’d fallen down or were manhandled. Liam had maintained his innocence and personal loss of memory throughout the proceedings. I kneaded my hands together, remembering the sincerity in his voice. He didn’t date. I could see why. Apparently, it didn’t end well.
Articles on his dad’s death were plentiful. The crime had made dozens of papers, a few headlines, and every society page in their town for a month. He’d died nearly a year ago on Halloween. Liam’s dad had been attacked outside an opera house after a show. Speculation of a robbery gone wrong was squashed by the fact he’d still had his wallet and Rolex on him. Also, he’d been beheaded. Most reporters had taken the savage and insane cultist route with their stories. Considering it was Halloween, the crime must’ve been the result of something evil. No doubt those stories had sold the most copies.
I stopped reading and let the details sink in.
I paced in my room, avoiding my mom until the last minute when we said good-bye for the night. If she knew what I knew, she’d move. Luckily, Mom was far too uptight to resort to gossip columns and blogs for news. If she stayed on local paper sites, she would learn the minimum at best. The Hales were a troubled family. They were rich and hounded for their wealth. The Hale family had a history of suicide. The most recent Mr. Hale had been murdered. Beheaded. The sons had been accused of… I wasn’t sure, stealing memories? Roughing girls up? I needed more information, but yeah, the Hales fit the description of troubled well enough.
Mom made me promised to lock the doors and get eight hours of rest before she left for work. I gave her a hug and grabbed Chester’s leash. The moment her taillights disappeared around the corner, I wanted out. I needed fresh air. Chester knocked me over in thanks as I hooked the leash onto his collar.
“Lunatic.” I tousled his shaggy sheepdog hair and shoved it away from his eyes. “Let’s go.”
On “go,” he spun me toward the door and jumped against it.
“Jeez. I can’t open it if you lean on it.”
“Woof.” He dropped into a sit and wiped the floor with his tail.
“Good boy.” I shrugged into my coat and tugged the door open. Nights grew cold fast in October. I shivered and pulled the door closed behind me. These were my favorite nights: brisk, but bearable. A good walk always warmed me from the inside and the cold air kept me moving. Standing still was a brutal reminder of the falling temperatures.
Smoke rose through the air beyond the cornfield. My cemetery seemed to be on fire. Chester and I half-walked, half-jogged to the end of the corn. There was a party. In the cemetery. Metal barrels stood in three locations with fires burning inside. A couple dozen people holding red plastic cups gathered around the barrels. Music became more audible with my every step. The drone of voices and laughter punctuated an otherwise quiet night. A few jocks and cheerleaders moved their arms in the retelling of a story I was glad to miss. Couples paired up on the outskirts, resting on headstones and kissing against trees.
Indignation burned through me. No one had asked me about partying in my cemetery. Not that it was mine-mine, but it felt like mine. No one had invited me either, and it was practically in my backyard. Chester ignored the gathering, opting to lift his leg a hundred times. He rooted his nose through the grass and sneezed contentedly at my side until we were within a few yards of the group.
Oliver perched on the outstretched arm of an oak tree, swinging his legs and singing poorly to a crowd beneath him, who clapped and whistled. My gaze danced over the crowd. If Oliver was there, Liam might be as well. I searched the murky shadows and silhouettes of people in the night. Smoke thickened the air, making faces difficult to discern. The lettermen coats gave away the jocks. Bare legs despite the chill gave away their groupies. Finally, I found one head bobbing above the others and I tugged Chester in his direction. We edged toward the cemetery, unsure of the protocol for crashing a party. Until now, I’d always been invited, or uninterested. This time I was neither.
“Good thing I have you,” I whispered to Chester. “You’re my cover. Dogs need walked. I live right there.” I tipped my head in the direction of our home. “We’re out doing our usual things, right?”
Chester sneezed and shook from head to toe.
“One. Two…” Chanting started near the tree supporting Oliver. “Three!”
Oliver swung off the limb and into the crowd’s waiting arms. Half of them went down in a thump. Laughter and complaints rose into the night. That act of intelligence confirmed the cups didn’t contain soda. The party moved at once, like a living mass, in the direction of the commotion, leaving Liam and a girl in my line of sight. Kristy Hines from homeroom. Her candy red streaked hair glowed in the firelight. Her hands roamed over Liam’s chest and she leaned toward him as she laughed. He had one hand in his pocket and one wrapped around a cup. His lips curved into a smile as he watched the people-pile disperse. Figures wobbled to their feet, looking like zombies climbing from the earth in the haze of smoke around the graves.
“Let’s go, Chester.” I turned before I saw anything I couldn’t unsee, like Liam kissing Kristy. Good thing he didn’t date or their uber-close proximity would have offended me. Liam had made it clear. I’d made him a fantasy. We were friends. He was troubled. I was uninvited. This night sucked.
Chester climbed into bed with me at midnight. I’d finished my homework and forced myself to stay away from the computer. Obsessing helped no one. Steering clear helped lots of people. My long hot shower had failed to unwind or distract me, but Justin was right, I was stubborn. For once, I planned to put my hardheadedness to use. Liam had warned me away. Fine. Done.
I curled into my comforter, hugging my pillow to my cheek. The fires outside lit the sky beyond my window and laughter bubbled in the night, reminding me I was alone.