Chapter Ten #2
A shiver moves up my spine. Of course they’d catch his eye, if he was scouring the news to make sure the stories weren’t reporting anything that led back to him. The bucket lifts; we’re going up. The ground falls away and I grip the railing.
‘Oh? Why is that?’
‘Because it’s horrifying. Did you know that a quarter of a million women and girls disappear in this country every single year?’
I didn’t, actually. I swallow. Where is he going with this? If he takes any kind of psychopathic pleasure in this, it’s entirely masked.
‘Wow,’ I say in a small voice as a sudden bluster of wind sends loose strands of hair into my face. ‘That’s a lot.’
‘I imagine a small fraction of them want to disappear.’ His eyes glint in the darkness. ‘But for most …’ He rubs his arms and falls silent.
I fall silent too. Both Detective Barnett and Devin have suggested that maybe Zoe wanted to disappear. Start over. But I hadn’t allowed myself to truly consider this as a possibility until right now. In the bucket. With Liam.
It’s been six months. No body has shown up on the beach. And now that I’m thinking, she did pull the disappearing act once before, a very long time ago.
She was seventeen. This was before I met her, but she told me the story.
It was her junior year. She ran away with her best friend.
A stolen car was involved, and in the aftermath she was expelled from her private school and switched to public, where I met her.
Meanwhile, her friend was sent off to military school in Indiana, and as far as I know, Zoe never saw her again.
But wait. That wasn’t the only time, was it?
She pulled it with me, as soon as we graduated from high school.
She cut off contact with her parents, and for all they know, she’s in Fiji, or dead.
The point is, she does have a pattern of running.
Is it possible that I’ve been clinging to the thought that she’s dead because the alternative hurts too much?
That she did leave of her own volition and I wasn’t important enough to her to even leave a note for?
Suddenly I feel nauseous, and it’s not just the swoop of the bucket as we start our descent. I can barely take in the magnificent view of the lake and pier and city. I rub my arms. The wind is picking up, with that viciously cold edge from the lake.
‘OK over there?’ says Liam.
‘Yeah,’ I lie. I feel like someone has stabbed me in the gut and is wantonly twisting the knife around.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Liam leans on the side bar, a winsome expression on his face, all the dark intensity from a moment ago gone. Not the face of a killer. And what killer gives out ceramic squirrels?
Maybe I really do have this all wrong.
Maybe Zoe is alive. And maybe Liam is just an attractive guy who had the unfortunate coincidence of having a tattoo in Latin and a degree from Northwestern.
‘Are you good at reading people?’ My voice sounds thin in my own ears.
Liam quirks a smile. ‘I like to think so.’
‘I’m not.’
‘No?’
‘I think I’m bad at it, actually. The last guy I dated? Jeb? I thought he was totally into me, but he was cheating on me. With the florist.’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘That’s on him, though. Not on you.’
‘That wasn’t the only time, though. Before him, there was Phil … Steve … Nick … Tom …’ I hold a breath, then expel it. ‘Every time, I thought I understood them, who they were, how they felt about me. But I was wrong. Over and over.’
Liam gives me a curious look but says nothing.
‘Why are people so complicated?’ There’s pressure in my throat and – oh God – behind my eyes. ‘Why is it so hard to tell what’s really going on?’
Liam’s expression is intent, compassionate. ‘Where is this coming from?’
I wave his question away. ‘Be honest with me, Liam. Am I having bad judgment now?’
Suddenly, a lurch sends me flying forward. Liam grabs my arms, bracing his body around me.
‘Shit,’ I gasp. The bucket is rocking; we’ve stopped rotating. ‘Are we stuck?’
‘Probably just letting more people on at the bottom.’
‘Oh … right.’ I pry myself away from Liam and slide back into my seat, feeling foolish. I take a second to breathe and look out on the lake, the city, the lights. All so pretty from up here, like a glittering toy city.
‘You mean bad judgment with me?’ Liam’s voice is huskier than usual.
I nod without looking at him. I don’t even know why I asked. It’s not like he’s going to tell me ‘yeah, might as well level with you, I’m a stone-cold killer, babe.’
He leans forward, and I make myself look at him again. ‘I mean, I can’t promise you that I’m perfect. But I can promise that I wouldn’t intentionally hurt you.’
I know words are easy; words are cheap. But I look into his eyes, and everything I see in his face demands that I believe him.
A flicker of humor dances in his eyes as he scoots even closer. ‘And I can also promise I’m not cheating with the florist.’
With another jolt, the ride starts rotating again. We start our descent.
‘She was cute,’ I say, and my voice cracks.
‘Not as cute as you.’
‘You don’t know that—’