Far From You

57

NOW (JUNE)

“The handwriting matches the notes I found in the garage?” Rachel asks as we drive in my car toward the lake, Kyle in the backseat.

“Yeah,” I say. “Check my phone. I took a picture of it. And see if Trev’s texted me yet.”

“Nada,” Rachel says as she opens my photos, squinting at the image of the note. “He took a picture of you guys?”

“That’s creepy,” Kyle says, taking the phone from her to look. “He’s stalking you. Are you sure you didn’t see anyone?”

“All the parents were picking up the soccer team. I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on in the parking lot. He could’ve easily pulled up next to Trev’s truck, dropped the note, and driven off while we were talking to Amy.”

“Maybe he left fingerprints,” Kyle suggests.

“The police will dust all the notes, but I doubt they’ll find anything. They didn’t find any fingerprints at the crime scene.”

“So, we think it’s Matt, right?” Rachel asks. “Unless Jackie was sleeping around, he’s the dad of the baby. And the baby has to be the reason she disappeared.”

“It makes sense,” I say. “And I made him angry after the meeting, bringing up the possibility of a pregnancy.”

“He looked like he was gonna hit you,” Rachel says.

“Well, he didn’t,” I say.

“Jesus,” Kyle says.

“What?” Rachel asks.

Kyle just shakes his head. “I’ve known him forever,” he says. “As long as I’ve known Adam. He got us our first beers back when we were freshmen. It’s just…it’s fucked that we even have to think like this about people we know.”

Rachel and I exchange a look. “It’s not for sure,” Rachel says.

“Yeah,” Kyle says, but he sounds far from convinced.

“Okay, we need a happier subject,” Rachel insists.

“Well, this is probably my final night of freedom,” I say. “As soon as the cops call my parents about the threats, they’re gonna freak and lock me in the house.”

“Not really happy,” Rachel says. “But you’re not Ms. ­Sunshine, so A-plus for effort.”

“I’d suggest you do something wild, but isn’t that against the rehab rules?” Kyle asks.

“We could go skinny-dipping,” Rachel suggests, and while I can tell she’s half joking, Kyle perks up at the idea.

I smile outright now, because he can’t tear his eyes off Rachel. “Sure. Let’s do that,” I say. “Kyle, you can’t come. I don’t want to see your bits.”

“Like I want to see yours,” Kyle shoots back as Rachel giggles.

I look down at the phone in my lap as we pull into the parking lot of Brandy Creek. Still no text from Trev.

What’s taking him so long? It’s been three hours.

I feel a flash of nervousness as I see all the people on the beach. The bonfire is already crackling, coolers set out, music blasting. I turn the car off and get out. The reluctance must show on my face, because Rachel nudges me with her elbow. “We don’t have to go down,” she says.

I shake my head. “No, let’s,” I make myself say.

I have to figure out how to come out of this with some kind of normal. Otherwise I’ll backslide. I’ll fall so fast and so hard that I won’t be able to pull myself out again.

Ten months. Five days.

I toss my phone into my purse and walk down the beach with Rachel and Kyle.

There are some pockets of strained silence as we make our way through the group of familiar faces. Kyle’s hugging ­people and smiling at girls, introducing Rachel as I follow behind, my eyes cast down. A shyness I haven’t felt in forever suffocates me.

“I’m gonna get some water,” I tell Rachel, zeroing in on one of the coolers tucked farther down the beach. It’s less mobbed over there.

She nods and waves me off with a look of understanding, though I can feel her tracking me, making sure I’m okay as I break from the crowd. I look over my shoulder and watch her for a second, see the way she smiles at Kyle in the firelight. He’s already ditched his shirt, now tucked into his back pocket.

“Watch it,” says a sharp voice.

I run smack into someone and stumble backward, my footing unsteady in the sand.

Amber doesn’t even reach out to try to help me. She stands still, her arms folded, as I teeter, trying to keep my balance. When I’m finally steady, she stands there, disapproval radiating off of her.

“Hi, Amber.”

“Sophie,” she says, and I’m impressed—she could freeze ice with that voice. “I can’t believe you thought it was okay to show up here.”

I feel tired all of a sudden. I don’t want to do this. Not here. Not ever. “Let’s just avoid each other.” I start to move past her.

“You know, I never got what she saw in you. You wrecked yourself. And then you brought her down with you.”

I stop. We’re drawing attention now, and my skin crawls at all the eyes on me. “Let’s not talk about it. I don’t want to fight.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Amber snaps. “I don’t have to listen to you. You shouldn’t be here. You should be in jail.”

“Hey!” Rachel comes up, scattering sand everywhere, her shoulders tense. “Leave her alone.”

Amber’s mouth twists in disapproval at Rachel’s funky bubble skirt and the necklace she’s made out of Scrabble tiles. “Freak,” she mutters.

Rachel’s face lights up; her eyes flick up and down Amber’s body, taking in her perfectly tousled beach hair and sparkly eye makeup. “I’m taking that as a compliment,” she says.

Kyle comes up behind Rachel, looming over her like he’s our personal bodyguard. He crosses his arms, brown eyes narrowing. “Sophie and Rachel are here with me. Don’t talk about stuff you don’t know shit about, Amber. Leave us alone.”

Amber’s eyes widen when Kyle defends me, then she deflates. “Whatever. You wanna stomp on Mina’s grave with the person responsible, Kyle, you go ahead.” With another disgusted look at me, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and stalks off.

I let out a long breath. “Thanks.”

Kyle runs a hand through his hair, eyes on the sand. “She was being a jerk.”

“Come on, just ignore her,” Rachel says. “Let’s get something to drink.”

“I should check my phone. I left it in the car.” It’s a lie, but I want to be alone.

“I’ll come with,” Rachel offers, but I wave her off.

“It’s fine. Trev probably texted me. I just want to check. Be right back.” I need a few minutes by myself. There are too many familiar faces here.

Before either of them can protest, I’m walking away as fast as my bad leg allows. I’m halfway up the beach, concentrating on navigating through the sand and getting my phone out of my purse when I hear someone calling my name.

“Sophie! Hey!” Adam comes jogging up. There are wet spots on his faded T-shirt, and his hair’s dropping into his eyes. “Kyle sent me after you. He didn’t want you to go anywhere solo.” He looks down at the phone in my hand. “Thought you were getting your phone.” I flush, but Adam smiles. “Hey, it’s okay. Amber was being mean. I’d want to get away, too. Can I come with you, at least, so Kyle doesn’t get mad at me?”

“I’m just going to my car; not that exciting.”

“I’ll tag along. Hey, you want?” He offers me a bottle of Coke, which I grab from him. I twist it open and take a drink as Adam gestures for me to keep going. He follows, hands in the pockets of his board shorts. I don’t look down at my phone, even though I want to check to make sure I didn’t miss any texts. “How’s your garden?” he asks as the beach fades into pavement.

“Good. Thanks again for helping me with that soil. What about you? How’s your summer?” The one light in the parking lot is about to die. It’s quieter up here, the noise from the beach fading as we walk farther away. I unlock my car and dump my purse onto the front seat. I flip my phone over so I can see the screen. There’s a missed call from a number I don’t recognize. My heart skips a few beats before starting to pound in my ears.

Is this it?

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Adam. I walk a few steps down the path before entering my voice mail code. I take another drink, expecting Trev’s voice on the message, but it isn’t his.

“Hi, Sophie, this is Tom Wells from the Harper Beacon. I’ve been thinking about our conversation last week. I’ll hope you’ll get back to me; I’d really like to talk about your side of this story. On the record. Give me a call back.”

I frown and delete the message.

You still talking to the detective? I text Trev before putting my phone on vibrate and pocketing it so I’ll feel it. I can’t stop the thread of worry working through my brain. I tell myself instead that it’s a good sign he doesn’t have time to text me.

“You mind if we hang out here for a sec?” I ask as I walk back to Adam. He’s sprawled against my car trunk, his soda in his hand. “Things out there are kind of…”

“I get it,” Adam says.

I hoist myself carefully onto the trunk, my legs swinging. Adam boosts himself up beside me.

“Who was on the phone?” Adam asks.

“Oh, I’m just waiting for Trev to text me. He’s supposed to come by later.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “You guys finally getting together?” He laughs when he sees the look on my face. “What? Everyone always talked about you two like it was this predestined thing. Why do you think I never asked you out?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, making me laugh.

“You wanted to ask me out?” I grin and take a sip of soda. “When was this? Before or after Amber?”

“Before,” Adam shrugs, grinning. “I had a big crush on you in second grade. Trev’s lucky.”

I don’t bother to hide my smile. “Well, I’m not dating Trev,” I say. “Trev is…” I try to figure out a way to put it. That feeling that went beyond friends, beyond family, but wasn’t the right kind of love. “Trev is Trev,” I say finally. “And dating…dating is not for me. Not right now, at least.”

“I get that. You’ve got a lot going on,” Adam says. “Concentrating on being healthy is important. You’re going to meetings, right? Uncle Rob said you were at the church the other day.”

“Been talking about it with my therapist,” I say. “He thinks it might be good for me.”

“It’s interesting,” Adam says. “I go sometimes with Matt so he won’t ditch. I dunno, listening to all those stories…It’s like people fuck up all the time, but I think it helps to admit it, you know? To ask for forgiveness? Most of the time, you get it. People are really good at forgiving, if you just ask for it.”

“Some things, though, you can’t forgive,” I say. “Sometimes you do or see things that are so bad.…” I take a long sip of soda, thinking about Matt, about how he’d probably killed Mina, Jackie, and his baby. I think about Trev, and how everything he wanted had been stalled by our secrets. I think about Rachel, finding me on that road, broken and bloody, and never showing any fear. I shake off the thoughts, pasting a smile on my face. “Anyway, Matt’s doing good with the meetings now, right? He looked really healthy when I saw him.”

“Definitely,” he says. “And, I mean, he did a lot of things that were bad. Made a lot of mistakes. My mom wouldn’t talk to him for six months. But Uncle Rob got him clean, got him to work the program, prove to her he was serious.”

“It’s nice that you have him looking out for you,” I say. I pat the phone in my back pocket absently. Trev should’ve texted me by now. Was he still at the station?

“Yeah,” Adam agrees. “He stepped up when Dad left. Helped Mom out with money and stuff. He did so much for me—there wouldn’t be half the recruiters coming to see me play if it weren’t for him.”

“That must be crazy to think about,” I say. “All those ­people, coming to see you. I’d freak out.”

“Yeah.” Adam grins nervously. “But in a good way, you know?”

“You’ve worked really hard,” I say. “You deserve it.” I wish Trev would text me. I take another long drink of soda. My mouth’s dry. I feel too hot all of a sudden. I swing my good leg back and forth and frown when it hits the bumper.

“You excited about senior year?” Adam asks.

“Kind of.” I blink, rubbing at my eyes. I struggle to swallow, and when I try to take a sip, I miss, spilling soda everywhere. My arm feels weird and heavy.

“Easy,” Adam says, taking the bottle out of my limp hand and sliding off the trunk.

I blink again, trying to clear my throbbing head.

“Sorry, Sophie,” he says quietly. “I like you. Always have. You’re a nice girl.”

The words take a second to work themselves into my brain. I can’t concentrate; my eyes droop. I feel like I’ve just done six shots of tequila in a row. “You…what? I don’t…”

I try to get up off my elbows, but my arms and legs are like Jell-O. I can barely feel them.

Drugged. The word floods into me, a too-late realization that breaks through the sluggishness.

“Oh God,” I mumble with numb lips. “No.” I try to get up again and slide off the trunk, but he’s there, holding me up. His face is inches away from mine; I can see a spot on his jaw that he missed shaving.

“No!” I push at him, a solid wall of muscle, as he crowds me against the car. I need something. The bear spray. It’s in my purse. I have to get it out.…If I can just reach it…

“Sophie, don’t fight it,” he says, and he’s so gentle when he holds my wrists together, it scares me more than if he had punched me in the face. I kick out with my good leg, but my bad one is so rubbery that it won’t take my weight, and I sag against him farther.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t want to do this the first time. I tried to warn you but you just won’t stop,” Adam says. I push at him again, trying to tilt my body to the side as he loops some hard plastic around my hands, pulling at the end of the zip tie, binding my wrists together. “You have that reporter asking questions, you went to Matt, you went to Jack, to Amy. You’re too nosy, Sophie. Just like Mina.”

I open my mouth, cottony and dry from the drug, to scream, but he’s too fast for me. He claps a hand over my lips and shoves me as I struggle against him—when had he opened the door?—and I fall onto the backseat of my car, dizzy as he lets go of my mouth to yank the keys out of my pocket.

“It was you.” I croak out. I have to say it. I need to hear it.

Leaning over me, he says, “It was me.” A quiet confirmation, an almost relieved revelation, the last words I hear before he slams the car door shut and I pass out.