Chapter Twenty
Thursday morning dawned bright and deceptively cheerful. I winced against the band of pressure behind my eyes. I'd slept in fits and starts. My eyes were gritty. None of that mattered.
Mia was at home getting ready for school. Despite the swirling rumors and Camille's advice, she was desperate to go, and I didn't have the heart to keep her home if a routine was what she wanted.
Maybe it was what she needed. It seemed like a better option than leaving her home, miserable in her room all day.
I took Apollo for his morning walk. I was on a mission, walking fast. Apollo trotted beside me, eager and alert. His leash pulled taut as we crossed the grass, headed for the community playground.
It was 7:30 a.m. School didn't start until 8:30 a.m. Alexis often brought Falcon to the playground before the bus arrived to take him to a private elementary school that specialized in students with special needs.
This was my chance to get her alone. Possibly my only chance. I'd rehearsed a dozen openings on the walk over.
The playground sat at the far end of the community park, a rectangle of sand bordered by manicured grass and mature oak trees. Only one swing was occupied.
Alexis stood behind it, pushing Falcon in slow even arcs with one hand, checking something on her phone in the other. She wore ripped black jeans, scuffed Doc Martens, and a faded Metallica T-shirt under a leather jacket.
"Hey, Alexis," I called.
She glanced up, instantly wary. Her hazel eyes were outlined with black eyeliner in a cat-eye shape. There was something brittle in the way she held herself, shoulders tensed like she was bracing for a hit that might come from any direction.
"Mind if we join you?"
She rolled her eyes. "I don't own the park. It's a free country. For now, anyway."
She slipped her phone into her pocket, but not before I saw the familiar pink emblem on the screen. The LakeshoreTea account.
My gut tightened. I stepped closer. "Hi, Falcon."
Falcon's legs pumped with perfect rhythm. The Paw Patrol sweatshirt he wore clung to his narrow frame. His dirty blond curls fell into his brown eyes, the same color as Brooke's. He leaned back into the swing, face expressionless as his gaze slid past me and landed on Apollo.
"Dog," he said, voice monotone.
"This is Apollo," I said. "Remember him? He loves playing fetch."
He didn't respond, but his focus sharpened. The swing slowed as Falcon's feet dragged through the sand.
"Want to throw the ball for him?" I reached into my pocket and pulled out a tennis ball.
Falcon nodded.
"Gently," Alexis said. Her voice softened when she spoke to him. "Remember what we talked about. No hitting, no kicking."
"No hitting. No kicking." He slid off the swing and came toward us. His steps were careful and measured.
I unclipped Apollo's leash. "Go on. Let's see that throw."
Falcon took the ball from my hand. He lobbed it toward the stand of oak trees at the edge of the park. Apollo bounded after it, tail wagging, crashing through last year's leaves.
"That should keep him busy for a few minutes," I said.
Alexis watched Falcon jog after Apollo. She stepped away from the swing, putting a few extra feet between us, and dragged one sleeve over her nose. A fresh bruise peeked out of the sleeve of her jacket. "What do you want?"
Fresh anger flared through me at the sight of the bruise. I had to look away for a second and remember why I was here, remember Leah's handwriting in her diary. The scissors.
"Just to talk," I said. "If that's okay."
"It's not." Alexis glared at me. She was solidly built, broad-shouldered and heavy-set, her face dusted with acne she tried to hide under foundation. Her expressive brown eyes shifted between guarded and defiant.
She was loud, blunt, and tough, but underneath the swagger and combat boots, I'd caught flashes of raw insecurity: the way she flinched at Brooke's comments about her skin or weight, the defensive hunch of her shoulders, the sarcasm she wielded like a weapon.
"I'll only take a few minutes," I said. "Please."
She rolled her eyes. "You're going to do it anyway, so whatever. Start your interrogation, then."
I ignored the jab. "How are you doing?"
Her eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? You came all the way here to ask me about my feelings?"
"Yes."
"I'm thrilled. Obviously." She swept a hand around the empty playground. "Hanging at the park with my defective brother while my mom curates her perfect life on Instagram. Living the dream."
"You know he's not—"
"I know who he is," she snapped. "I live with him. He’s my brother."
Across the grass, Falcon threw the ball again, a little farther this time. Apollo barreled after it like it was the best game in the world. Falcon's face stayed serious, intent. He adjusted his stance before each throw.
I tried a softer approach. "I know things have been hard since Leah died."
"Understatement of the century," she muttered.
"We all miss her."
"Do we? Seems like everyone just wants to blame someone and move on."
She wasn't entirely wrong. "Did you break into my house?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What are you even talking about?"
"Someone broke into my house on Tuesday and moved our things around. Then someone broke in again and stole my notebook. Was it you?"
She gaped at me. "No way."
"You were standing in front of our mailbox right after it happened. Like you'd just left our house."
"Nope. It wasn't me. I was just walking."
"In the rain?"
She glowered at me, but she met my gaze without blinking. "I'm not the Wicked Witch of the West. I'm not gonna melt. Duh. I can walk in my own neighborhood."
I studied her for a minute, looking for a tell, but I didn't see anything. That didn't mean she wasn't lying through her teeth, though. I decided to switch tactics for now. "I'm here about the slumber party."
Her mouth flattened. "I already told the cops everything."
"I know what you told them." I stepped closer. "I don't think it was everything."
"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence."
"I need the truth. About all of it. About what really happened."
"I don't know anything."
"A girl is dead, Alexis. I need to understand what really happened."
"Like I said, I already told the police everything."
"I don't think you did."
"I was asleep when it happened, okay? I didn't touch Leah. I didn't go near her."
"You hurt Leah, though. Before she died."
Color rose in her cheeks. Spots of heat against her pale skin.
"Vivienne showed us what Leah wrote. In her diary. About what you did to her."
Alexis went rigid. "That's ancient history."
"It's not."
Alexis turned away from me and reached for the backpack resting against the swing set. "You don't know what you're talking about. This conversation is scintillating and all, but I've got things to do."
I steeled myself. I needed to shift tactics. I didn't want to, I had to. It was the only way to get Alexis to talk. "I saw what your mother did to you last night."
Alexis froze.
The swings creaked faintly in the breeze. The aluminum slide glared in the sun.
"I saw her grab your wrist. Hard. I heard what she said to you."
Fear flickered in her eyes, followed by a flash of humiliation. Then the shutters came down. She angled her body away from me, her chin up, defiant. "You should mind your own damn business."
"Abuse is serious."
Her jaw clenched. "You don't know anything."
I nodded at her sleeve. "I know a bruise when I see one."
"You hide in bushes with binoculars like a creeper, or is that just for fun?"
"I was walking my dog. Your patio is perpendicular to the walking path. I saw everything."
"You don't know what you saw."
"I saw her hurt you. I heard her threaten you. I can see the bruises."
Her breath quickened. She stared down at her Doc Martins, refusing to meet my eyes.
"I know you're scared of her. I know she controls you. And I know you haven't told the truth about Friday night. I'm going to tell the detectives what I saw."
Her cheeks reddened. "You can't."
"If you don't talk to me, I'm going to the police about the abuse."
Sheer panic flared in her eyes. "You can't—she'll kill me—"
"Then help me. Tell me what really happened that night, and I'll keep what I saw between us. For now."
There was a long pause as Alexis weighed her options. Part of me wanted to hug her, another part wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled and the truth fell out.
Finally, she looked up at me. "If I tell you, you can't tell my mom. Ever."
"If it's the truth, and it helps clear Mia, I'll do everything I can to protect you."
Alexis studied my face, as if trying to decide whether to trust me. She had no choice, and she knew it.
The urge to back off tugged at me. This girl had been hurt. But she had hurt others, too. Leah was dead. My daughter was a suspect. Sympathy couldn't override that.
I let a beat stretch between us. The chains on the empty swings rattled in the breeze. A crow called from somewhere beyond the oaks. "Why did you really cut Leah's hair?"
"The hair thing was months ago," she said. "Like, forever. It doesn't matter now."
"It mattered to Leah," I said. "She wrote about it. It traumatized her."
Alexis's jaw worked. She took a step back until her spine brushed the swing's chain. Metal clinked softly.
"She saw."
"Saw what?"
"Stuff she shouldn't have." Her laugh was humorless. "Welcome to the Brooke August Experience."
"You're talking about your mom."
"No, I'm talking about Santa Claus."
"Leah saw your mom hurt you," I said to clarify. "At your house."
Alexis gave a sharp nod. "She was there for the Christmas party.
My mom was drunk. Falcon was having another tantrum, about to go off in front of everybody, and I didn't catch it fast enough.
She got pissed. We were in the kitchen, she grabbed my arm and shook me, told me I was ruining everything, God forbid someone see Falcon throw his goldfish crackers at the wall. "