Sam immediately forks a bratwurst onto her plate when Duncan sets a platter piled high with meat on the table. He comes over to me and leans in.
“Learning anything?”
“I’ve been trying to eavesdrop, but people are too good about keeping their conversations private.”
“I’ve got an idea.” He tugs my wrist. “Come with me.”
I follow him around the corner until we’re at the base of an oak tree that starts in the side yard and hangs over the backyard. About eight feet up, it forks into two massive trunks. A thin knotted rope dangles down the center, where three warped boards are nailed like a ladder. Bridging the gap between the two trunks is a weathered tree house, maybe six feet long and not quite as tall, with a big open window and a peaked roof.
“When you’re up there, you can see and hear everything,” he says, “but nobody notices you.”
I run my thumb over my scar. “Is this the tree I was climbing when I fell?”
“Yeah. Me and my dad built the tree house the next year.”
Grabbing the rope, I give it an experimental tug. It holds firm. A few seconds later, I pull myself up onto the open platform that serves as the tree house’s front porch. On hands and knees, I crawl inside. There’s an old pink quilt, a wooden folding chair, a brown cushion, and two unlit votive candles.
I’m still taking it all in when Duncan scrambles in behind me.
I turn my head to ask him something. He’s a lot closer than I thought, and my nose grazes his cheek. Suddenly, we’re kissing. I think it surprises him as much as it surprises me.
My whole body starts to hum. I no longer hear the sounds of the party below us, no longer feel the rough boards under my hands and bare knees. When Duncan lifts his lips from mine, it’s like waking from a dream.
When I open my eyes, he’s blinking. “Wow!” he says softly, sitting back on his heels and running his thumb over his lips.
When I start to sway, he grabs my arm above the elbow. Then he freezes. It’s not something he sees. It’s something he hears.
“I can’t believe it’s been fourteen years,” Carly is saying. “Fourteen years. I’ve missed my brother every single day.”
“There was no one like him,” Richard says.
“Every time I got an e-mail message from an address I didn’t know or a call from a number I didn’t recognize, I thought it might be him.” Carly’s voice trembles.
Someone makes a strangled sound. I think it might be Sam.
“A lot of things have changed in the last fourteen years,” Jason says. There’s an edge to his tone. “And a lot of people.”
Duncan and I lean forward until we can see below. No one looks up. They’re too focused on one another.
“What do you mean?” Audrey asks.
Jason points an accusing finger at Richard. “Back in the day, you were as raggedy-ass as the rest of us. You used to hang around my house at dinnertime, hoping to be invited to eat. Now you’re Richard”—he gives the full name a sarcastic spin—“and you’ve got your face on billboards, and every time I turn on the TV, there’s your commercial. Look at you, with your plaid shirt and fancy watch. The rest of us are still scraping along, and you look like an actor.”
Richard lifts his chin. “I worked hard to get where I am.”
“So are you saying we don’t?” Jason waves one hand at the rest of the group. “Everyone else is working their butts off and has been forever, but right after Naomi and Terry died, things started to change for you. Terry’d been pulling double shifts so he could pay off his back child support. He told me he was going to give the money to Naomi before Christmas. You think no one remembers how your hands were all banged up that Monday after they disappeared? Like you’d been fighting. I think you stole that money—and then you killed them!”
Duncan and I exchange a wide-eyed look.
“Please, Jason.” Sam pushes herself to her feet. Her voice is as sharp as a razor. “Richard may be a money-grubber, but he’d never get his hands dirty like that. He’s got a little system going. He finds some old lady who’s behind on her property taxes, who’s maybe not thinking so clearly. Then he makes her a deal: He pays the taxes, and she signs the house over to him. When she dies, he sells the house and keeps the profit, and the heirs get nothing.” She shakes her head in disgust. “And he’ll tell you that it’s all perfectly legal.”
I remember seeing Frank shake his finger at Richard after the memorial.
Richard draws himself up to his full height and smooths the front of his shirt. “How I got where I am is all legal. And some of those people have gotten far more out of me than I get in return.” His face contorts into a sneer. “As for my knuckles, Jason, they were bruised because I finally stopped letting my mom’s boyfriend beat me. I was nowhere near the woods that day, and I have no idea what happened to Terry and Naomi. But I never believed Terry did it. Can the rest of you say the same?” He stares at the ring of faces and then stalks off.