Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
Josie
I sit on my bed, surrounded by half-packed boxes that I need to finish filling with all the artifacts of my childhood.
The moving company is coming in two days to carry it to the rental house my mom found in a small Pennsylvania town called Maple Ridge, but I can’t focus on the dozens of items on my list.
All I can think about is what’s happening at the Langley house.
Did they find any evidence that I was there? Did the security guard come forward and say he saw me?
How is Ian holding up?
I badly want to text him to ask, but I swore to Mom I’d block his number. It nearly killed me, but I did it. Ian must know that I know what happened. Everyone on the island is talking about it. Has he tried to reach out to me?
Does he think I don’t care?
I heard from Alice, who heard from Ian’s friend Leo on the sailing team, that Ian has been in constant talks with his dad’s lawyer about the future of Langley Capital, so maybe he’s been too busy to notice my silence.
But even that thought overwhelms me with guilt.
Ian should be hanging out at the sailing club, enjoying his last summer before college, getting ready to go to Stanford.
Not sitting in meetings with lawyers and talking about a company he never wanted any part of.
I flip open my computer and refresh the local news site.
The top story is still Christopher’s death, and it’s been the same for the last few days.
When I’m not drowning in guilt over Ian, I’m obsessing over what evidence the police found at the Langley house.
I scan the latest article. They’ve updated it to add information about the funeral next weekend, but no information on his cause of death.
The initial report ruled it an accident.
Christopher had several drinks, and he tripped and fell, hitting his head.
The investigation is ongoing, and the police won’t comment.
Did they interview the security guard? Did he see me slip past the barrier?
Is there any video footage? There’s no way for me to find out, at least not without alerting the authorities that I was there.
Every time I open the news websites, I see Christopher’s face staring back at me, and the fear and horror of that day rush into my body as if it’s still happening in the moment. My skin crawls with the feeling of his hands on my thighs, my lungs close up from the weight of him on top of me.
I slam the laptop shut on Christopher’s face and lunge off the bed to continue packing.
Mom is right that I could never be with Ian after all of this.
How could I look in his face and not see his dad’s intense blue eyes and that inscrutable expression?
All that time, I had no idea what he really wanted from me.
How could I be so stupid and na?ve?
I grab a box and throw some books into it.
I can’t believe we’re really leaving here for good.
Mom called her friend who works at a hospital in central PA and already got her application started for a job there.
Apparently, they’re desperate for nurse practitioners, and the paperwork is really more of a formality.
The rental house is in a nice neighborhood.
Now all we have to do is pack up and sell this place.
I know I should be sad about leaving it all behind, and maybe someday I will be.
Maybe when I can no longer feel Christopher’s hands scraping my skin, his breath hot on my neck.
Maybe when I’m no longer looking over my shoulder wondering if someone saw me, if I’ll get caught for defending myself and punished for something that wasn’t my fault.
I open my drawers to sort the rest of my clothes into piles for either packing or donating, and then I start on the jewelry laid out on a tray on my dresser.
I don’t have much, just a few special pieces.
A pair of gold hoops I got for my sixteenth birthday.
The starfish necklace my dad bought when I was a baby that Mom gave me on my thirteenth birthday.
I freeze with the hoop earrings in my hand. The starfish necklace. My palm flies up to my neck where the pendant always rests unless I’m working at the sailing club.
It’s gone. I was so distracted by everything that happened that I didn’t notice it.
When did it go missing? Did I leave it at work?
I wrack my brain for a memory of the last time I saw it.
No… I remember putting it on after my shower on the day I was going over to Ian’s house.
I nervously slid it back and forth on the chain when Christopher took me for a tour of the house.
Was I wearing it when I got home that day? Did I take it off when I finally ran upstairs to shower the smell of Christopher’s cologne from my skin? I don’t remember setting it on the counter like I usually do.
What if it fell off when he pinned me down on the couch or yanked me back by the neckline of my dress?
What if it’s buried in the couch cushions or lying in the brush that I waded through to run home?
How long will it be before someone finds it?
It’s not unique or valuable, just a basic fourteen-carat gold charm.
I’ve seen similar ones in shops around town.
But it’s priceless to me. And evidence I was there.
Where is the necklace?
I run out of my bedroom and down the stairs to where Mom is cooking dinner between phone calls to moving companies and utility services.
“Mom.” I burst into the kitchen. “I lost my necklace, the starfish one. I think it might be somewhere at—” I abruptly stop talking. Madeline is sitting on a stool at the counter, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh.” I thought she was at a beach bonfire.
“What happened to your party?” I ask her, trying to calm my pounding heart. I can’t believe I almost blurted out that I was at the Langleys’ house in front of her.
Madeline’s shoulders shake. “All my friends were talking about their plans for the rest of the summer. They’re going camping on the beach. And they’re going to take the bus to New York to shop for school clothes.” She takes a gasping breath. “And I won’t be here for any of it.”
I lean in to wrap an arm around her because I don’t know what else to do.
“Please, Josie,” Madeline begs. “Please convince Mom to let me stay on Sandy Harbor until I graduate. I can stay with a friend.”
This is all my fault. This disaster with Christopher isn’t just affecting my life, but Madeline has to give up her friends, her plans, her entire senior year with the kids she’s been in school with since she was five.
It may be the worst thing that ever happened to me, but at least I was going off to college and leaving it all behind anyway.
Madeline has to start over at a brand-new high school in the fall.
“Madeline, I know this is hard on you,” Mom says gently. “But it’s the best thing for our family.”
Madeline slides off the chair. “It’s the best thing for you! Not for me! My life is ruined!” She spins on her heel and storms out.
Mom and I both stare at the door where my sister disappeared.
“I hate this,” Mom murmurs, her eyes sad, and my stomach drops. I did this to my family.
“Maybe there’s another way?” I suggest, even though I know there isn’t. We’ve been over and over this. If the security guard saw me, the only reason I haven’t been identified is that he doesn’t know who I am. But it could be just a matter of time. There’s no way to stay hidden on this island.
“What were you saying about your necklace?” Mom’s voice cuts in.
“Nothing. Never mind. It’s not important.
” I know if I tell her I lost it, she’ll want me to forget about it.
But it’s another piece of evidence. And it’s even more than that.
Christopher took so much. My home, my sense of safety.
Dad’s necklace—the only gift I have from him—is one thing I can get back.
“I’m just going to run to the liquor store for more boxes. ”
“Okay,” Mom says. “Go to the one off the island. And don’t make any other stops where people might recognize you.”
When I leave the house, I drive up Harbor Boulevard toward the north end of the island instead of south where the bridge connects to the mainland.
Soon, the turnoff for the Langleys’ private road comes into view.
This is where I dropped my bike in the bushes.
My chest fills with dread. If I could go back, I’d do anything to grab that na?ve girl walking innocently up this driveway.
I’d shake her and tell her to turn around. To run.
I spot several cars parked on the side of the road, and a few people mill around.
One man holds a news camera and another, a microphone.
Christopher’s death made national news, so they must be reporters hoping to get more of the story.
My heart aches for Ian that he’s probably dealing with this on top of everything else.
I keep driving past the Langleys’ road until I find a small pull-off where I can park out of sight of the reporters.
My hands begin shaking the minute I step from the car and gaze out over the brush and scrubby trees that separate me from the house beyond.
The last time I was here, I was sprinting, my heels burning as they pounded across the hard-packed sand in my thin flip flops, my legs bleeding from the brush and weeds clawing at them.
But I don’t have time to stop. There are only a handful of houses on this road, mansions and estates that belong to the island’s wealthiest families.
If a car comes along, they’ll spot me right away and wonder what I’m doing here.
They could call the police. Even worse, the security guard could drive past on his way to work at the house.