untitled (34 page)

take them out of there. Rachel found them in your garage.

And there was something else with them: a business card

for an adoption counselor at Women’s Health.”

Trev’s quiet as we walk back to our cars, the threats

clutched in his hands. I wonder if he’s mad that I didn’t call

him as soon as Rachel had shown them to me, but before I

can ask him, we get to the parking lot.

276

F A R F R O M Y O U

Trev’s truck is parked ahead of mine, so we get to it fi rst.

There’s a piece of paper tucked under the wiper, but I notice

the other cars’ windshields are clear. “What’s that?” I reach

up for the paper, and then stop.

It’s not an ad or a coupon like I expect.

It’s a piece of printer paper, with a photo taped to it and

some words below.

“Trev.” I stare at the image. At the words.

BACK OFF OR IT HAPPENS TO HER, TOO.

The photo’s an inkjet printout, grainy and poor quality,

taken from a distance. It’s Trev and me, standing in front

of the truck, just like we are now. I’m shading my eyes

against the sun; Trev’s bending toward the door handle. I’m

wearing the black shirt I had on yesterday and I can see the

edge of Matt’s apartment building in a corner of the photo.

“Shit,” Trev says. He looks around, as if he’s expecting

whoever left it to be hanging about, watching us. The park-

ing lot is empty except for the girls loading up equipment

into Coach’s truck.

“He’s following us,” I say, and my fi ngernails bite into

my palms as I clench my fi sts, the thought heavy in my

stomach. “This . . . this is good. This is proof.” Trev grabs

for the paper. I stop him. “No, don’t touch it. We need a

napkin or something.”

I root around in the truck bed until I fi nd a rag and care-

fully pick up the note by a corner, my fi ngers shielded by

the cloth. “Got it.” I look up at him with a big grin. “Now

all we have to do is . . .”

T E S S S H A R P E

277

Trev shakes his head.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s time to call the police, Sophie,” he says. “Now.”

I let out a long breath. “Okay,” I say. “You’re right.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you found the other notes last

night?” he demands.

“Because I knew you’d want to go to the cops, and I

wanted to talk to Amy fi rst,” I say.

“You could’ve been hurt,” Trev says. “He’s watching us!

Why are you so calm?”

“I had to make sure I was right about Jackie’s being preg-

nant. And anyway, you were here the whole time. I knew

you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

He laughs, a bitter sound, and it twists at my stomach,

ties it into knots. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“I do,” I say. It’s one of the two universal truths of my

life. Something that I’ve always been sure of, since that

night in the hospital when he’d begged my forgiveness.

“I should be the last person you think that about.”

“I know you. You don’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Christ, Sophie,” he hisses, like I’ve said something hor-

rible. He glares at me. “We’re going to the cops.”

“No,” I say.

“Sophie, I swear to God—”

“I’m not saying no to going to the police. I’m saying no to

my going
with
you. If I’m there, Detective James won’t listen

to a word either of us says.”

I’d thought this through carefully. But it hadn’t taken me

long to realize Trev had to do this solo.

“You’re her family. If you show up there by yourself, he

278

F A R F R O M Y O U

has to listen. Tell him you found those warning notes and

the thumb drive in Mina’s room, started investigating, and

then got
this
note on your car yesterday. He’ll believe you—

but not if I’m with you. If I’m there, it’ll screw everything

up. He doesn’t trust me. It has to be just you.”

Trev grits his teeth. “Okay,” he says. “Then I’ll go. And

you stay home and wait for me to call you.”

“I can’t. I promised Rachel I’d go to a party.”

“A party? Seriously?”

“Kyle invited Rachel, but she doesn’t want to go without

me. If you hurry over to Detective James, you can meet me

out at the lake. We’ll go through everything the cops say.

You can even challenge Kyle to picnic table beer pong if

you want.”

That gets a reluctant smile out of him. “Fine,” Trev says.

He digs his keys out of his pocket and heads toward the

driver’s side of the truck. “No beer pong, though.”

“Thank you.”

He looks up grimly. “Thank me when this is all done.”

He follows me home, just a few feet behind my car.

56

FOUR MONTHS AGO (SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD)

“Do we have to do this now?” I ask, fi ddling with the iPod hookup in

my car. “We’re going to be late.”

“I know, I know, I suck,” Mina says as she takes the Old 99 exit.

“It’ll be quick. Thirty minutes. Then we’ll go to Amber’s.”

It’s been storming all week, but it’s clear now, and you can see the

stars so much better away from the town lights. I think about rolling

my window down and sticking my head out, but it’s too cold.

“You still not gonna tell me what this is all about?” I fi nd the play-

list marked
Sophie
and page through the songs.

“Not yet,” Mina trills.

“You and your weird superstitions,” I say, rolling my eyes and

grinning.

Mina sticks her tongue out. “They’re not weird. But this is going to

be
huge
. I’m not going to jinx it now, when I’m so close.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Hey, I’m not the one with a shrink on speed dial.”

Silence fi lls the car. Her mouth twists back and forth.

“Too soon?” she asks.

“No.”

She shoots me a look.

“Okay, maybe a little,” I admit.

280

F A R F R O M Y O U

“I’m a bitch. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s the truth. How bitchy can that be?”

“Pretty bitchy.”

I’ve been home from Portland for two weeks. Aft er almost six

months with Macy, clawing my way clean and free, I was fi nally sure

enough to come home.

But fi nding steady footing has been hard. Six months ago, I’d have

happily burned any bridges I could for a handful of pills, but now I’ve

got the reality of the damage I’ve done—to myself, to Mina, to Trev,

to my parents.

Mina and I aren’t the same anymore. There’s a tense undercur-

rent to all our conversations. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her

watching me, but every time I look at her straight on, she pretends she

hasn’t been staring.

I wish she’d just say something. Anything to stop this agonizing

push and pull we’ve fallen back into.

Mina’s phone rings. She checks it, sighs, and throws it in her purse.

It’s the third time she’s done that in the last twenty minutes.

I raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says.

“Okay.”

We’re quiet for a while. Songs cycle through the playlist, and Mina

drums her fi ngers against the steering wheel as the headlights cut

through the darkness.

“Soph, you know that fi ght we had last week, when we had dinner

with Trev and Kyle?” Mina’s voice is level; she keeps her eyes on the

road, but her cheeks blush a steady pink.

“Yes,” I say, and I feel like I’m walking on eggshells and hot coals

all at once. Is she really going there?

T E S S S H A R P E

281

Mina twists a strand of dark hair around her fi nger, still not look-

ing at me, even though I’m staring so hard she has to feel it.

“You remember what you said? About choices?”

“I remember,” I say carefully. I’m afraid to say any more.

“We should talk about it.”

“Now?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet. But soon. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You promise?” She turns away from the road, and I’m startled to

see a rare streak of vulnerability in her face.

“I promise.”

She’s got to hear it, how much I mean it.

It’s the fi rst (last, only) promise I break to her.

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 fi ngerprints,” Kyle suggests.

“The police will dust all the notes, but I doubt they’ll

fi nd anything. They didn’t fi nd any fi ngerprints 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.”

T E S S S H A R P E

283

“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 fi rst

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 fi nal 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

284

F A R F R O M Y O U

parking lot of Brandy Creek. Still no text from Trev.

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

I feel a fl ash of nervousness as I see all the people on

the beach. The bonfi re is already crackling, coolers set

out, music blasting. I pull the keys out of the ignition and

get out of the car. 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 fi gure out how to come out of this with some

kind of normal. Otherwise I’ll backslide. I’ll fall so fast and