Chapter 11
Hazel had underlined multiple lines of the movie-night chapter.
Who was she texting??? She had written in the margins. Could it have been Nick? Had to be.
From her notes, it was clear that Hazel was hyperfixating on Nick as her prime suspect.
But I had no way to figure out where this thread might have taken her.
I doubted she’d found more information on Nick than I ever did.
I had actually been there at the time, seen him with my own eyes, and still couldn’t locate him.
Even after the book’s success, he didn’t come forward to establish his innocence.
And for whatever reason, the internet sleuths had focused on other people.
There were entire subreddits and X threads trying to prove that I was actually a narcissistic sociopath who had really been the one to kill Alex.
No one had turned their attention to Nick. Besides Hazel, it seemed.
The last note Hazel had written about him made my breath hitch. Who would know more about Nick? she’d scribbled.
Who would Hazel have tried to talk to? The only other people in that scene in the book were the Hopely sisters, but I shuddered at the thought. Those bitches hated my guts, hated my whole family, and never let anyone forget it. Would Hazel have had the courage to approach one of them?
The issue was, I had no idea what Hazel might do.
I didn’t really know her like that. It had also been almost a decade since I was her age, and even then I had been nothing like her.
I had been reckless and irrational and angry.
Hazel was responsible and meticulous. If only her phone weren’t in police custody.
I needed to find someone she would’ve confided in. I needed to talk to one of her friends.
I opened Hazel’s Instagram again and scrolled through her pictures, looking for the girl I remembered.
Kayleigh. She had been an angelic child who came to Hazel’s birthday parties with big bows in her hair that always matched her dresses.
Now, she looked like an ad for Brandy Melville.
She was skinny and tan, with light clear eyes and hair that was a pale shade of red.
Nearly every photo was of her in a bikini on the beach, a boat, or an ATV.
If you had put Loxahatchee teenager into a Google search, Kayleigh was what the search results would have brought you. I DMed her a quick message:
Hey Kayleigh, it’s Rose Dearling. Hazel’s older sister. I’m in Loxahatchee helping to look for her and I was wondering if we could talk? Could we meet up tomorrow?
A few minutes went by and no response. I looked at the clock—it was past eleven, but kids stayed up late these days, didn’t they? I just had to be patient and ignore the impending sense of dread that was clawing up the back of my neck.
I was woken up at the crack of dawn by my father, who told me that he and my mother were meeting at the police station to answer more questions.
Tommy and Suzannah had already gone off with Steve and the twins to help the community center prepare for the large town-wide search party that would be happening in two days.
They’d neglected to invite me to both of these events.
I’d once been my father’s favorite. Now he could barely give me the time of day.
So I once again spent most of my day in the silent house, consumed by thoughts of Hazel, only interrupted by Kayleigh messaging me back at 1:45 p.m. and writing:
OMG Rose, I’m so sorry. We’re all freaking out too. I love Hazel like a sister. Of course we can meet! My mom’s still making me go to volleyball practice today. But that gets out at like four. Do you want to meet at the benches outside??
I responded to Kayleigh and told her I would meet her there at 4:15.
Nothing I’d read of my book and Hazel’s annotations so far had given me any new ideas. I was hoping Kayleigh could fill in some of the gaps.
Seminole Ridge High School, a large two-story structure with a massive concrete courtyard, had been built a few years before I went there and still looked decently new. It had been quiet back then, at the far end of town. Now it was surrounded by an expensive gated community.
After fifteen minutes stuck in a line of traffic that had never been there before, I parked my car in one of the school’s visitor spots.
Even with the delay, I was still forty-five minutes early to meet up with Kayleigh.
Though the school day was over by now, there were still a few kids circulating around the campus, loitering for after-school club meetings or waiting for late parent pickups.
And the staff parking lot still looked pretty full.
My eyes caught on a shiny black Toyota Camry.
It had two distinct stickers in the window: one for Salt Life and one of Baby Yoda.
The personalized license plate read C1N3MA—both pretentious and gauche at the same time. I stiffened in the driver’s seat.
Bradley.
I’d had no idea he still taught here. I hadn’t wanted to know.
He’d been immortalized in my book. In the final act, Lily Sterling is dealing with the consequences of her brother being falsely imprisoned and her suspicion of Robert Smiley.
She seeks comfort from her high school teacher Mr. Jameson.
The relationship teeters on inappropriate but never crosses the line.
It was a tiny subplot, hardly influential to the story, and no one had ever asked me about the teacher’s identity.
In real life, however, Bradley Myers had played a much bigger role in the aftermath of Will’s arrest.
The clock on my dashboard read 3:45. I still had a half hour before I had to meet Kayleigh, more than enough time to track Bradley down if he was here. I got out of the car and locked it before I could change my mind.
I walked through the open courtyard and into the building.
Security was usually tight in post-Parkland Florida schools, but those procedures seemed to be lax after dismissal hours.
Thankfully, no one recognized me as I walked through the halls.
I kept my eyes ahead, afraid that focusing on the students would send me into another panic about my sister.
This experience of walking through my former school was anxiety-inducing enough.
After Alex died, my friends abandoned me as my family fell apart.
The only things I had to my name, besides Will’s conviction, were huge tits and a 4.
0 GPA, both of which I then used to my advantage.
I stopped when I got to the hallway where the English classrooms were, getting such a strong sense of déjà vu that it made me momentarily nauseous. The lockers had been repainted since my days here, and the posters on the wall had changed, though they still looked unnervingly similar.
I saw his name written on a thick cardstock sign: Mr. Myers.
The door was slightly ajar, so I gave it a gentle push, praying that there would be no students lingering inside. And there he was, sitting alone at his desk.
The transition from his twenties to his thirties was more apparent on Bradley’s face than I’d expected.
His brown hair had gotten lighter, and his skin had paled, wrinkling slightly.
He still had the unruly eyebrows and clear blue eyes, but they looked more tired than I remembered.
I supposed teaching did that to you after a while.
He’d gained a little weight too. Nothing drastic, but enough to notice.
He’d been so strong and sturdy back then.
A man with a hard chest and a built frame. It was humbling to see him like this.
I knocked on the doorframe. He looked up from the stack of papers in front of him, plucking an AirPod from each ear, a gesture that he had probably made a million times before.
This time, however, I watched the easy smile fall from his face as the earbuds toppled from his fingers.
His mouth hung open and he straightened in the chair.
“Rose?” He sounded unsure.
I stood straighter too, glad I had put on my good jeans and a tight T-shirt today. “Hey, Bradley,” I said, smiling a little. “I guess I can call you that now, can’t I?”
Bradley’s eyes moved over me slowly, darting from my face down to my body and back.
I closed the door behind me. I knew he’d be more open to this conversation if we couldn’t be overheard.
He seemed to come back to himself, sighing a little. “You’ve always called me that.” He smiled. It was the same one I remembered, but there were laugh lines around his mouth now.
“Yes, but now I’m allowed to.” I stopped in front of his desk. “Turns out it isn’t as fun.”
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he said, dazed, as if staring at a ghost.
I pretended to count on the tips of my fingers. “Seven years. Give or take a few months.”
Bradley just blinked.
“Time flies when you’re getting old,” I said, reading his thoughts.
His eyes narrowed. “Do I look as old as I feel?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well, you on the other hand look incredible.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off me since I’d walked into the room. “How old are you now?” he asked, trying to do the math. “Twenty-six?”
“Twenty-five,” I said. “But age is just a number.”
Bradley didn’t say anything, just ran his hand over his face. “I forgot how much you used to say that,” he groaned.
“Come on,” I teased. “Don’t be a revisionist. You used to like it.”
Bradley sighed. “What are you doing here, Rose?”
“I’m trying to find my sister, Hazel.” I stared him down to see if there was a flicker of anything. Any indication that he was still interested in me.
His face softened at my words. “I heard about that,” he said. “I’m so sorry. Everyone here’s really broken up about it. I would’ve reached out, but I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”