14 #2
I glance at Henry, who doesn’t react. Maybe he wasn’t listening, or maybe he’s choosing to ignore her. When we make it outside, Henry stops to look at me in the moonlight. “What’s going on?” he asks. “Is this about the other day? Adam’s breakdown?”
“Sort of,” I say, unable to look him in the eye. “Henry, after our talk last weekend about Adam, I started thinking again about last December.”
“Last December?”
“When you and Adam got into that fight, and you said your whole situation was his fault.”
Henry lets out a puff of air. “I thought we went over this. I was mad, so I said it. I didn’t mean it. Well, maybe a little.”
“Really?” My heartbeat quickens.
“Of course. Bram and I wanted to force the school board to actually make a ruling. We’d done nothing wrong.
But Adam said he couldn’t face everyone, and”—he shrugs—“we were sort of guilted into staying home with him. Our parents agreed with him, saying it was all for the best. I got stir-crazy, that’s all.
I wanted him to fight, like he would’ve done before the accident. But I expected too much.”
“Right.” For a moment, I feel better. But then I remember that photo collage of Mariana, Kennedy’s body lying in the woods, and the possibility that Adam had motive to hurt both girls. We have to find him. “Still,” I say, “after that breakdown, we should make sure he’s okay.”
Henry examines my face for another moment, unconvinced. “I’m sure Adam is fine,” he says, taking my hand in his. Everything I felt on Saturday comes rushing back. His fingers thread through mine, the warmth of his hand radiating up my arm.
“Adam never turned the lights on back here,” Henry says, peering out into the darkness. Releasing my hand, he moves to the electricity panel and pulls a few switches. “Damn. It won’t turn on.”
“But the electricity isn’t out,” I say, looking through the glass of the French doors at the lit rooms.
“No, it’s not.”
A shiver runs over the back of my neck. Did Adam sabotage the lighting out here?
I follow Henry, our pace quick over the path. As we reach the pond, my phone dings in my back pocket. I stop to check it, hoping it’s Bram reporting that Adam is back inside the house and Emma is safe and sound.
But it’s an Instagram notification. A DM from Desiree Watts, containing nothing but a link.
When I click on it, I’m sent to a post on Lydia’s account. It’s a photo of a gold bracelet, little pom-pom charms bookending a series of dangling letters that spell out the word CAPTAIN. The post contains a caption:
Never thought I would be awarded cheer captain under such terrible circumstances. Rest in peace, Ken. We love you
“Coming?” Henry asks, stepping out onto the bridge.
“You go ahead,” I say. “Find Adam.” As his footsteps trail off, I read the message again, wondering what I’m missing.
Sure, it’s in poor taste to post something like this now.
But Kennedy was cheer captain, so when she died, the position went to Lydia.
Much like the student council president situation.
Lydia was always the default after Kennedy.
When I reached out to Desiree, she told me she had nothing to say on the matter. So why is she sending me this cryptic link?
Frustrated, I message her back. Sorry, I don’t understand.
I expect her to ignore me, the way she did last time, and look up, remembering that I told Henry to go on.
It’s starting to get cold, and I’m wearing denim shorts and a tank top. I didn’t plan on being outside tonight. “Henry?” I call out. But the only response is another ding from my phone.
Desiree again. It’s all she ever wanted.
I stare at the words, trying to make sense of them. All Lydia ever wanted was cheer captain? Is Desiree saying what I think she’s saying?
Another sort of chill runs through me. Maybe this is the reason Desiree didn’t want to talk last week; she’s afraid of Lydia. But could she really think Lydia did something to Kennedy in order to take cheer captain from her?
I start to mull over everything Lydia told me at her farm on Saturday.
That she thought Kennedy had a secret, and that it might be drugs, so she followed Kennedy.
Lydia said she was worried about her best friend.
But what if there was another reason she followed Kennedy?
What if Lydia was hoping Kennedy was involved in questionable—or even illegal—behavior, so she could catch her in the act?
Then the cheer captaincy would be all hers.
And president of the student council, for that matter. Lydia said she never wanted the position, but she admitted it would look good on a college application. What if her plan was to catch Kennedy and depose her, but the plan failed? So she resorted to other measures. Bloodier ones.
It’s a stretch, for sure. And I know Desiree even less than I know Lydia. Still, Desiree is the first person from school who hasn’t tried to pin this murder on an Abbott brother.
At the thought, I remember that I’m supposed to be looking for one of those brothers right now. Instead, I’m standing in the dark, my only source of light this phone and the wash of moonlight trickling through the foliage. “Henry?”
I take a breath and click on my phone’s flashlight. The gardens are expansive, containing a literal hedge maze. It’s easy to get lost even in broad daylight. “Adam?” I try as I find footing on a cobblestone path. The overgrown grass and flowers tickle my ankles. “Emma?”
Something scratches my bare arm, and I jump, causing my nearly full drink to splash over my shirt.
Letting out a growl, I abandon the drink on the path and shine my light at whatever brushed me.
I find myself at the opening of the hedge maze.
Tilting my phone, I let the light cascade down the dark corridor.
As much as I want to avoid it and keep walking, it’s exactly the type of place Adam would take Emma—maybe even lure her—in an attempt to impress her.
Unlike me, the boys have been through this maze thousands of times and have memorized the way.
“Henry?” I call out again. But there’s no answer, so I call him on my phone. He doesn’t pick up. In fact, I don’t even hear the ring. Maybe Henry and the others went a different route and are already back inside.
It’s stupid of me to worry about Adam. I know him.
And yet…I can’t ignore what he underlined in Frankenstein. I can’t ignore his hatred of Dr. Russo.
Or that photo collage hidden in his room.
My heartbeat is like bullets firing in my chest. I take one step closer when a voice calls out, “What are you doing?”
I spin around, shining my light into the figure’s face.
“Stop that!” the voice squeaks now. I lower the phone and squint into the dark to find Sage shielding her eyes.
“You came,” I say, not quite believing it. After all, Sage’s family is convinced that the Abbotts had something to do with her cousin Mariana’s death.
“Yeah, and then you weren’t even there. The broody one said you were out here. What the hell are you doing?” She glances around the gardens, shoulders tucked in close.
“Uh…” I can’t admit to Sage that I’m searching for Adam because I might not trust him. I can’t tell her I might agree with her and the rest of this town that he’s dangerous. “Hedge maze hide-and-seek. Henry’s out here somewhere.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“I’m surprised to see you,” I say, leading her away from the maze.
She crosses her arms. “I’ve been a dedicated member of the student council since freshman year. I’m not going to miss our first party just because some of the members might be murderers.”
“Right,” I say, looking down at my shoes as I scrounge for words. “Do your parents know you’re here?”
“Of course not. I’m risking everything to be here.”
“That’s uh…so brave of you.” Or is it? A little insect of suspicion buzzes at my ear as I recall how devious Sage could be back in elementary school.
Righteous acts like writing Todd Ellison still wets the bed on the whiteboard while everyone was at recess, in retribution for him calling a girl in our class a “fatty.” At the time, it earned my admiration and made me want to be Sage’s friend.
But now, my defensive instincts are kicking in. She’d better not be planning some way to humiliate the brothers in front of the entire student council.
“Yeah,” she says, “but necessary, you know? Without Kennedy here, I feel like I should keep an eye on things. Lydia is so green. She might need my help.”
I resist the urge to remind Sage that it’s a party and not a gathering in the Situation Room.
“Good thinking.” Except I’m now realizing that Sage lost the student council president race to Kennedy; she probably can’t help but feel jealous that Lydia gets to slip in and take it.
“Just uh, be careful with Lydia,” I say before I can help it.
“What do you mean?”
“I just mean that she’s been through a lot. Don’t say or do anything to make her feel…threatened.”
Sage shrugs. “I was only going to help.”
I nod. “I know you were.” I start to wonder if I should head back inside with her when I hear something.
Voices from somewhere deep in the maze. Sage perks her head up like a bird on alert.
“Oh,” I say, “Henry and the others must’ve given up on me.
I’ll go get them.” I nudge her along toward the path. “Be inside in a sec.”
“You better be.” Resignedly, she hurries back toward the bridge.
I turn to face down the maze again. Ducking inside, I try to recall the times we used to play here as kids.
The first turn is a left; I know that. But at the fork, my memory goes hazy.
One way dead ends immediately, while the other takes you on a twisty adventure to nowhere.
The third option leads you closer to the exit.
I inhale a breath and choose the path to the right. At my first step, a heavy hand falls on my shoulder.