Chapter 12
RUE
Noah Anders.
I hit the search on Google again. Nothing. Then I try every single social media platform I can conjure up to try.
Nothing.
“Rue, do you want hot chocolate?” Macey asks me, her perfectly highlighted blonde hair pulled into a ponytail on the top of her head. Mara, her seven-year-old, dances around her, her puffy white earmuffs bouncing against her matching ponytail.
I shove my phone in my pocket. “Yeah, that sounds good.” My fingers are numb from the lack of gloves and continuous internet search for my long-lost childhood friend…
Of whom I think was the man in the store.
But… I thought he left town.
“You don’t look like you’re from California,” Mara peers up at me. “You look like you’re from here.”
“That’s because she is,” Macey quips, as we step up to the hot chocolate counter. I have my hood up, hopefully making me less recognizable. But honestly, the Groundhog festival is full of people I only somewhat remember, if at all.
And no one has paid attention to me.
You’re just paranoid. Years have passed since Matthew died.
“Here,” Macey turns, handing me a hot chocolate first. “Your fingers are bright red.”
“Yeah, I forgot gloves,” I mumble, wrapping my hands around the warm cup. It sends a shiver down my spine, but it’s welcome. Macey hands another drink to Mara, and then cups her own.
I follow the two of them to a picnic bench, but choose to stand, in hopes of keeping myself warmer. I scan the small crowd, and the entrance into the Groundhog maze through the trees, which seems creepy as fuck with shadows and a lack of attendees…
But whatever. Maybe it’s just because it’s dark.
“How’s your mom feeling?” Macey breaks my thoughts, and as I turn to meet her gaze, the string lights above us cause a glare.
“Um, she feels crabby,” I say, squinting down at my cousin.
“That’s pretty normal for her,” she hums, shrugging her shoulders. “I feel for you, Rue.”
“It’s okay,” I force the words out, my mind drawing a blank as they run right back to those fucking eyes. “I have a question,” I speak before I stop myself. “You know pretty much everyone around town, right?”
Her brows furrow. “I guess so.”
“Is Noah Anders here still?”
Macey blinks. “Who?”
I chew the inside of my cheek, squeezing the cup to stay warm.
“You might not remember him. He was two years older than me, and so like four years older than you and Eliza. He lived in the house closest to us… I think… I think I might have seen him at the Grab n’ Go the other day.
” I sound absolutely stupid, and it only gets worse as Macey shakes her head.
“I guess I don’t remember the Anders… The name doesn’t even sound familiar, to be honest. If he’s still around, he must live on the other side of the lake.”
“Maybe.” My lips crack from the cold. “I just can’t figure out where he is or what happened to him.”
“Well, you said you saw him at the store,” Macey points out. “That gives you some direction.”
“Yeah,” I breathe out, and then take a sip of the hot chocolate, burning my tongue. “I guess I’m just curious how his life turned out.”
“Or reconnecting?” Macey’s brows bounce, as she lets out a giggle.
“No,” I shake my head. The last thing I want to do is reconnect. I’m way too fucked up for that. I don’t want to put that evil on Noah.
He’d been through more than anyone should—at just thirteen.
I swallow the memories of us hiding away in the ravine, Noah showing me his bruises. I sip more of the sweet drink, my stomach knotting up.
I should’ve kept in touch with him. But I was too young to know how.
“Can we do the maze now?” Mara interjects my thoughts. “That’s the whole reason I even wanted to come to this thing.”
“Right,” Macey gives her a nod, and then flips her leg over the bench. “We should definitely do that then, before it gets any colder than it already is. It’s supposed to drop into the single digits tonight.”
My mind flickers with the notice from the deputy yesterday. I hope that guy finds somewhere warm to go. I don’t even know why I care. It’s like I try to overcompensate for my fuckery with excessive compassion.
“Come on,” Mara grabs my hand, and tugs me toward the maze entrance.
“Okay, okay,” I down the rest of my hot cocoa, and then chunk it into the trash can on the way to the entrance. “What’s the purpose of the maze?” I glance over at Macey, who shrugs.
“I think it’s like the only thing they could come up with.”
I nod, eyeing the eerie shadow hanging over the decrepit wood sign, the words Start Here painted across it in blue paint. I stare at the sign for a few moments, just before a hand brushes my arm.
I whip my head around to see a pair of shockingly hazel eyes, my stomach instantly lurching violently. I haven’t seen the woman since the funeral, and I hoped to never run into her again. Since when does she even come to these things?
“Rue,” Nancy Zendetti says, her expression set. Her fake blonde hair falls to her shoulders, and as much as I hate it, I see Matthew in her immediately—the nose, lips, eyes, and just…aura. “I heard you were back in town but didn’t believe it.”
“Um, hi…” I glance to Macey, who’s standing wide-eyed. “We were actually just about to go to the maze.”
“Well, that’s fun,” she deadpans. “Matthew loved this festival every year.”
“Yeah,” I say flatly, noting the way her lips flatline. “He did.” I take a step toward the entrance, but Nancy just follows.
“I’ve actually been trying to get in touch with you,” she keeps it up, her voice sharper now. “I know it’s been a lot of years, but there was something I really wanted to discuss with you.”
“Um… yeah, maybe some other time—”
“We’ve sent multiple letters to the man who murdered Matthew,” she says, her voice breathless. “And he never responded. I think he would respond to you. I just want him to say his apology so we can get some closure.”
I stop, turning to face her. “I’m sorry, but one, I’m trying to move on from what happened, and no amount of letters written to some murderer is going to change that, and also…” My voice trails off. “Why the hell would he write back to me?”
She makes a face, like I’m a complete idiot. “Well, you know him. That’s why.”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t.” I stalk off toward the entrance, my stomach rolling. I have no fucking clue what she’s talking about, but I know for damn sure that she’s wrong. I’ve looked at the man’s mugshot on the TV.
I didn’t know him. I don’t know him.
“Rue,” Nancy calls after me, but I keep heading for the maze entrance. “Were you not childhood friends with Noah Anders?”
I freeze, coming to a sudden halt. I turn back to her. “What did you just say?”
“Come on,” Macey grabs my arm. “You don’t want to get lost in the small-town conspiracies around here.”
I jerk my arm from Macey, now fully invested. “What about Noah?”
“We found Grandma Zendetti’s ring on the shore last year,” Nancy’s eyes laser in on mine. “Why would the ring Matthew gave you—that you supposedly buried with him without our consent—suddenly be found near where he was murdered?”
My mouth grows dry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You threw the ring in the lake, didn’t want to admit it, and lied right before they lowered his casket, Rue,” Nancy’s voice shakes, as the volume rises. “You told me you put it in there, and you didn’t.”
I blink a few times, my chest heaving. “I don’t remember that.”
“You little gaslighting bitch,” Nancy storms toward me, and Macey steps in between us.
“I understand that it’s triggering to see Rue home,” Macey holds her hands up, trying to stop her approach. “But she didn’t do anything. Matthew’s death hurt her, too.”
“Oh, right,” Nancy glares at me, jabbing her pointer finger past Macey. “I guess it’s just fucking coincidence your little childhood trailer trash boyfriend is the one who stabbed my son to death.”
I can’t process what I’m hearing.
“Fuck you, Rue. I know you’re not some innocent little angel,” Nancy seethes. “But I still used to think you were better than that.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Macey threads her arm through mine more firmly, and starts dragging me toward the maze. “Go home, Nancy. You’re talking nasty in front of children.”
“I’ll get the logs,” Nancy’s voice grows distant, as Macey drags me toward the entrance. “I’ll bet you visited that piece of shit more than once. I’ll figure it out.”
I shake my head. She’s crazy. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She can’t know what she’s talking about. But as I turn once more, seeing the woman fuming a few yards away, I can’t help but feel like I’m the one who is missing something.
Macey tugs me into the entrance of the maze, the overhead string lights the only thing flickering in the dark. “Nancy Zendetti has basically gone crazy.”
“Yeah,” Mara echoes her mom. “My friend Ivy says that she’s a crackpot.”
“I just…” My voice trails off, unable to shake it off. “Why does she think I know the guy? His name is Thomas Peterson. I don’t know anyone with that name. Why did she mention Noah Anders?”
Macey falls into silence, eyeing me and chewing on her lip in a way that tells me I am the one out of the loop.
“What is it?” I demand, my voice sharpening. “What do I not know, Macey? Because Dad made it clear—”
“Your dad was trying to protect you, Rue,” Macey’s voice falls to a near whisper, the hum of the distant festival almost louder than her. “Nancy has no idea what she’s talking about. You don’t even know the full truth. There’s no way you could have somehow known before.”
My stomach is rolling. “Macey, I’m not following,” I do my best to keep my voice calm. “Please help me understand.”
“Well, I’ve done my own research, because… You know, your dad and my dad worked together.”
“Macey,” I warn her, feeling less stable with every passing moment. “Tell me.”
She blows out a sigh. “I do know who Noah Anders is, and I’m positive you didn’t see him at the store.”
I swallow the truth that’s already on the tip of my tongue. “And why is that?”
She meets my gaze, the hesitancy potent. “Because he’s in prison for the death of Matthew Zendetti.”