Forget Me (16 page)

“Talk to you later,” I said, and slipped into the night.

I trekked back down the road. Evan didn't pull away until he saw me safely reach the walk in front of my house. I watched his taillights turn the corner and vanish.

I used my key in the front door and closed it quietly behind me. The living room was empty. My heart sped up. If my parents were asleep, now was the time. But my hope came crashing down with the clink of silverware in the kitchen.

I pulled my sneakers off and padded into the room. Dad was seated at the table, hunched over a bowl.

He looked up and tried to give me a smile. “Ice cream?”

I leaned my shoulder against the wall. “No, thanks.”

This was what my dad did after arguments. He tried to smooth things over by buying me ice cream or a new book by my favorite author, or by offering me the remote and letting me pick what show we'd watch. Little things. Sweet things. But things that ignored the problem. And I felt like, if I took his peace offering, it was a tacit acceptance that the issue was handled.

“I'm not hungry,” I said, and headed into the living room.

I settled onto the couch, my legs tucked underneath me, and pretended to be absorbed in the magazine my mom had left behind. But Dad didn't seem to notice how little I truly cared about it as he stopped at the bottom of the staircase.

“Good night,” he said.

“Good night,” I echoed.

“Don't stay up too late.”

“I won't.”

I listened closely as his footfalls echoed up the staircase. The second floor creaked under his weight. The door to their bedroom clicked shut.

I quietly approached the bookcase. My fingers trailed along the spines and stopped at the book I'd seen my mother with. I eased it off the shelf and flipped through until I found the mystery paper. Still there.

I slipped it out of the book. I didn't know what I was expecting. Something bad, obviously. But ripples of anxiety shuddered through me as I wondered just how bad it would be. An overdue statement? A foreclosure warning? I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Part of me wanted to put the paper back and pretend it didn't exist. But that was the old Morgan. No more keeping my head in the sand.

I unfolded the paper and saw that it was actually a note. Not a bill. Not a formal letter. It was handwritten, with big, menacing block letters. Like Flynn's warning to Evan. But this wasn't Flynn's handwriting. I knew that well enough now. The statement was simple and to the point.

EVERYONE WILL KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

What the hell?
I hadn't been expecting anything like this. Was this for my parents?

What had they done?

S
unday morning, I woke to the warmth of the sun on my face. I'd forgotten to pull the curtains before I'd collapsed into bed. I lay there for a while, listening to the birds outside, and thinking about the time, a few years ago, when we had a leaky pipe in the kitchen.

My dad had been on his hands and knees on the floor, head under the sink. I sat beside him, passing a tool now and then and feeling impatient because we were supposed to go out. I was amazed by how much effort he was putting in—using a wrench, pliers, tape, sealant. “That's good enough,” I said. “Can't we just go?”

And Dad replied, “Not yet. If there's one loose seal, even the tiniest crack, the water will find it. Water always finds a way out.”

Watching the patterns of light dance on my bedroom wall now, I realized that secrets were like water. They slipped around, hidden, searching for that one small crack.

And they always found a way out.

Flynn took his lies to the grave, but left behind his journal. My parents refused to admit there was a problem, but the note I found proved it. And Evan's family?

Sometimes secrets revealed themselves, but other times you had to give them a little push.

I slid out of bed, showered, and got ready. My parents were out. I hated this rift forming between us. Whatever they were hiding, I was sure they thought they were protecting me. But I didn't want to be protected. I wanted the truth. However bitter it would taste going down, it had to be better than these lies I'd been spoon-fed.

I grabbed my car keys and went outside. It was the first warm day of spring. Mom's tulips had started to open. I kept the car window down as I drove past neighbors working outside, mowing lawns, washing cars. I parked in Toni's driveway.

Toni had two laughs. Her real laugh, the one I heard most often. And her boyfriend laugh, the one she reserved for guys who told her a joke and she wanted to make them feel good. That laugh was so loud, you didn't so much hear it as feel assaulted by it. And that's how I knew that she was out on the back deck and she wasn't alone.

I strode around the side of the house. Toni and Reece were lounging in chairs on the sun-bleached deck, sipping lemonade.

She brightened when she saw me. “Morgan! Come pull up a chair. It's beautiful out.”

“There's nice scenery all right,” Reece said, ogling Toni in her tank top.

Toni gave him a playful smack on the arm. “Go in and get her a glass of lemonade.”

Reece jumped up and opened the sliding glass door. I waited for him to close it before I turned to Toni. “I came to ask you to do something with me.”

“Sure!” she said, enthusiasm shooting out of her pores. “What do you want to do?”

I smiled slowly. “Break into Evan's house.”

She paused, the glass halfway to her mouth. “Did your brain dribble out of your ears overnight?”

“His parents are hiding something. I know it. And I don't know if Evan's willing to do what it takes to find the truth. So I need to find it myself.”

Toni put the glass down on a side table. “Humoring you for a moment. How would we even do this?”

“Evan has another game today, at noon. We stake out his house and see if his parents go to watch him play. His little sister's away at boarding school. The house would be empty.”

Toni shook her head. “With a house like that, they definitely have an alarm system.”

I grinned. “I know a way in.”

She rubbed her chin. “Okay, I'm intrigued,” she admitted.

“Will you do it?” I eyeballed Reece through the window. He was getting ice from the freezer. I had to get Toni to agree before he came out and acted like the voice of reason.

Toni let out an unsure sigh. “I don't know.”

“Just so you know, I'm doing it with or without you. And I was kind of hoping you would come since we haven't spent much time together lately.”

Toni winced. That one got her. She knew she'd been blowing me off for Reece, and I was betting that she felt guilty about it. It was a low blow, but desperate times, desperate measures.

She sat up in her chair. “I have conditions. One: we don't involve Reece. I don't want to get him in trouble.”

“Adorable.”

“Two,” she continued. “If we don't physically see everyone leaving the premises, we abort the mission, and you never bring this up again.”

I chewed on my lip. “All or nothing, huh?”

She crossed her arms forcefully. “Yep.”

“Deal.” I could always go back by myself some other time.

The sliding glass door opened, and Reece came out with my lemonade. The ice cubes clinked against the glass as I took a long, satisfying sip.

With one last glance at me, Toni said to Reece, “We're going to head out around eleven thirty for some girl time.” She hesitated a beat. “Shopping.”

• • •

“I feel guilty.” Toni slumped down in the driver's seat. We were parked on the street outside Evan's house. We'd taken Cooper's car because Evan wouldn't recognize it.

“For lying to Reece about where we were going?” I asked.

“Yeah. Couples shouldn't lie to each other.” She bulged her eyes out at me with a silent but not subtle message.

“Evan and I are not a couple. And I'm not lying to him.”

“Just breaking into his house,” she mumbled.

“You shouldn't feel guilty,” I said, turning the subject back around. “You're protecting Reece. It's cute.”

She gave me a skeptical look.

“Who knows, maybe you'll learn some tips that will help him conquer that King Mother house he wants to throw a party in.”

She stiffened. “Here comes a car.”

I followed her gaze up the long driveway. Only one car was making its way down. Damn, I thought. I needed them all to go to the game. But then it got to the bottom of the drive and I realized it wasn't Evan's car. It was a sleek black sedan. And as it turned onto the road, I counted three heads: two in the front, Evan's in the back. They'd all left together.

I grinned. “Time to go.”

We easily slipped through the iron bars of the gate surrounding the property, making me think it was more ornamental than protective. I hiked up the hill, Toni two steps behind me. The Murphys owned so much property, there wasn't a neighbor who could see us, but we jogged just in case.

Toni groaned. “I feel like I'm in a James Bond movie. I shouldn't feel like that, Morgan. I should be drinking lemonade on my deck.”

“Zip it.”

“It's not too late to turn into a sane person.”

I glanced over my shoulder. She gave me a withering look, and I realized she was scared. But she'd cover it up with one-liners and keep going if I wanted her to.

“Why don't you go back to the car?” I suggested. “Be the lookout.”

Instead of grabbing the chance, Toni actually looked offended. “You're trying to get rid of me,” she accused. “You think I'm going to mess this up!”

“No, I don't. I was just thinking—”

“You're not getting rid of me, Morgan. I'm great at this stuff. I'm a ninja.” She pushed past me in a huff.

“How are we going to get in?” Toni asked once we reached the back of the house.

“Evan mentioned that the den window isn't wired to the alarm system right now. They had to replace it. So I just have to find the den.”

Toni pointed at one window whose frame was a brighter white than the others, like it was more freshly painted. “How about that one?”

I stepped into the landscaping and squeezed between two bushes. The window definitely looked new. I cupped my hands to peer through the glass. The room inside had a bookcase and a desk—looked like the den.

“This must be it,” I said.

I'd been hoping the windows would be open, it being the first warm day and all. But they weren't. I made a deal with myself. If the den window was locked, I'd leave it at that. Walk away. But if I could open it, well, then that was an invitation from fate. It wasn't breaking and entering if I didn't have to break anything to get in . . . right?

I pushed up against the sill. The window groaned . . . and opened.

I looked back at Toni.

“Last chance,” she said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I'd been repeating the words
it's not too late to back out
to myself for the last hour, like a mantra. They made me feel better. What I was doing was clearly crazy, but if I could still back out, there was no reason to be scared.

We were here now, though. The Murphys were gone. The window was open. There was no backing out. Not anymore. I put a finger to my lips so Toni would stop trying to talk me out of it. Panic desperately wanted to settle into my bones, but I pushed past it. I had to get answers.

The screen slid up easily. I motioned to Toni.

“Me?” she said, aghast. “Why do I have to go first?”

“Because I'm tall enough to climb in myself without a boost. You're not.”

“Stupid DNA,” she growled.

I locked my fingers together to form a step and Toni put one foot onto it, then pulled herself up to the ledge and through the window. Her face popped back up a moment later and I breathed a sigh of relief. With a little maneuvering, I grabbed the ledge, got some traction with my feet on the siding, and pulled myself up and in, careful not to make too much noise when I dropped to the floor.

I stood up and let my eyes adjust. Toni was already wandering around the unfamiliar room. It was very masculine, with leather furniture and a large mahogany desk. It wasn't just a den. It was Mr. Murphy's office.

Toni pointed at the huge, imposing chair behind the desk. “I want to sit in that, facing the other way, then spin around slowly and say something evil. Like in the movies.”

“Maybe next time,” I said. “You take the left drawers, I'll take the right.”

She snorted. “You're no fun.”

The first drawer slid open easily. I flipped through the stack of papers. They seemed like regular business documents, some invoices, bills, stuff like that. The bottom drawer had file folders that were all labeled with company names. Nothing that looked personal. Evan said his dad did consulting now. That's all this was.

“Anything?” I asked Toni.

“Nothing secret-y, no. Let's go.”

“Not yet,” I said.

Toni groaned. “What are you expecting to find? A hidden birth certificate? A secret diary?”

Secrets have a way of revealing themselves.
“I don't know. Just look.”

I went over to a tall bookcase against the wall. One shelf held framed photos. Evan and his sister. The whole family. One of just Evan and his mom. One of his father and uncle—identical aside from Evan's uncle's beard. I picked up a small frame and froze.

“Toni,” I whispered.

She hurried to my side. “What is it?”

With a trembling hand, I gave her the frame. “Look. There's Evan, about age one or two. And his mom is pregnant.”

Toni sighed and put the photo back in its place. “Settle down, conspira-zilla. Didn't you say he has a younger sister? That's her baking in there.”

“Oh, yeah.” I felt stupid for not realizing it immediately. What was wrong with me?

I caught Toni staring. “What?”

She chewed on her lip. “If I say something, will you promise not to take it the wrong way?”

“No.”

Toni rolled her eyes. “Fine, I'll say it anyway. I think you want there to be something here. Some big conspiracy waiting to be unearthed.”

I crossed my arms. “And why's that, Dr. Toni?”

“Because maybe then Flynn's death wouldn't seem so senseless.”

I inhaled sharply and turned around. I felt sucker punched.

Toni put a gentle hand on my arm. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said—”

“No, you're right.” I turned to face her. “I should just admit it. I don't want his death to have been random. Me picking him up, us fighting, him walking down the road, the car coming. I want it to have been purposeful. I want to find out that someone was after him and that if they didn't get him that night, it would've been the next day.”

Toni quietly asked, “Why?”

“Because then I couldn't have prevented it. I couldn't have stopped it by keeping him in the car a minute longer, keeping him happy, having him at the party with me instead of standing in the middle of the road.”

Toni reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders. “It's not your fault, Morgan. It never was. You have to accept that. You want this so badly that you're pushing these crazy theories. You're going to go too far and hurt Evan. You're going to push him away and lose any chance at moving on. And, honestly, I think he's good for you. Better than Flynn ever was.”

She was right. I knew she was right. And I was wrong to break in here. Evan had been nothing but straightforward with me—showing me the photograph with the warning on the back, bringing me to talk to that cop at the station, telling me the truth about his family. And I repaid him with betrayal. I felt sick.

“We have to get out of here,” I said.

Toni's face lit up in agreement and then just as quickly shut down as we heard a thump in the hallway behind us.

I froze. Toni's widened eyes looked to me for instruction. I knew I should burst into action—move, run, something. But my feet were like lead, and my heart had stopped beating. Next came a scrape, the sound of a shoe sliding forward on the floor.

Someone was there, standing in the hall, equally frozen, listening for
us.

I pointed at the window and motioned for Toni to get out first. If anyone went down for this, it had to be me. It had been my dumb idea. Toni stealthily slipped out without a noise. I shimmied out next, a bit clumsier. My shoe stuck on the window ledge, and my drop to the ground was anything but ninja-like. I got up, brushing mulch off my jeans. Toni was already down the grassy slope, halfway to the car. I started to run, casting one last glance over my shoulder.