“You’re certain you want to confront the sheriff?”
“I’m not confronting him. I’ll appeal to his sensibility. We both want the same thing: to rescue Sandy and find Nina.”
“All right. Now, will you tell me what you were up to before I came inside?”
Hensel raises one eyebrow and awaits Darcy’s response.
“The best defense is a good offense.”
Darcy shows Hensel where she hid the knives. Hensel itches his head, his face torn between surprise and amusement.
“So you stole all the steak knives. Trying to convert your cousin to vegetarianism?”
“There are four more steak knives in the drawer. No worries.”
Hensel collapses on the couch and touches the small of his back.
“Maybe we should trade places for a night or two,” Darcy says.
“No, I’ll be fine. Besides, Hunter and Jennifer don’t want me sleeping in their room.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dammit, when will she fall asleep?
Curled under the covers, Jennifer watches her mother through slitted eyes. She’s good at feigning sleep, but she acknowledges her mother is better. Before the Darkwater Cove murders, Jennifer tried to sneak through the living room past her sleeping mother so she could meet up with Kaitlyn on a Saturday night. Except Mom hadn’t been asleep, and to this day Jennifer suspects her mother figured out she broke curfew from time to time and set her up, baited her. It took a lot of pleading and arguing before Jennifer convinced her mother she was only going out to the car to grab her book bag, which she’d fortunately left in the backseat when her mother checked.
Beside Jennifer, Hunter mumbles something indiscernible under his breath and tugs the blankets over his shoulder. It’s after midnight, the yard outside the window bathed in sharp moonlight. Checking the phone beneath the covers, Jennifer winces as the signal dances in and out. The last message she received from Kaitlyn mentioned juicy news about Aaron and Sam. Though Jennifer placed the phone in silent mode so she could read the texts without alerting her mother, the crappy signal inside the old house swallows Kaitlyn’s replies.
When Jennifer feels sleep pulling her down and worries she’ll miss the scheduled rendezvous, her mother closes the laptop and sets it aside. A yawn, then the room turns quiet. But is her mother asleep? Jennifer forces herself to count to one hundred before edging back the covers, one eye glued to her mother. No movement. She’s out. Or she’s set another trap for Jennifer.
Dressed in pajama bottoms and a heavy sweatshirt, a pair of sneakers in her hand, Jennifer touches her feet on the cold floorboards and stands. The floor moans, a soft, pitiful sound as if the farmhouse issues a dying breath. Jennifer freezes, ready to dive under the blankets if her mother awakens. She doesn’t.
An antique clock ticks in the hallway as Jennifer slips out of the bedroom. Laurie snores down the hall. A shock travels through Jennifer’s body when the fire snaps downstairs. Catching her breath, she descends the stairs and peeks around the wall. Agent Hensel sprawls on the couch, one arm hanging off, a leg dangled over the edge. Talk about taking a risk. Does she intend to sneak past an FBI agent?
But as she steps down the stairway, Agent Hensel never stirs. She’s down the stairs and in full view if his eyes pop open, so she concocts a lie to cover herself if he catches her—she can’t sleep and came downstairs for a glass of milk. It won’t explain the sweatshirt and sneakers, but hopefully he won’t ask questions.
For a second, Jennifer believes she forgot her phone in bed. Panicking, she touches her pockets until she finds the plastic shell inside her sweatshirt.
The cold is a living, breathing thing. Jennifer’s breath catches in her throat as she steps outside. She clicks the door shut behind her, careful to leave the knob unlocked, and steps down the stairs. When her sneakers touch the soft grass, she spins back toward the house, expecting to see a disapproving face in the window.
But she’s alone in the night. Free.
Excitement surges through her bones as she runs through the soft grass to the garage. Shit. Agent Hensel locked the garage door. She must brave the cold, a small price to pay for being a normal teenager for a few minutes. The phone rattles and hums inside her pocket as the messages pour in. They’re all from Kaitlyn, too many to skim through.
To hell with it. If you’re gonna live, might as well live on the edge.
She touches Kaitlyn’s picture and listens as the phone rings. Hopping in excitement, she hopes her high school friend is still awake. Kaitlyn answers.
“Well, hello there, stranger,” Kaitlyn says with a giggle. “Mama Bear let the cubs run wild tonight?”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Someone’s gonna get in trouble.” Kaitlyn draws out the last syllable.
“Like I care. Okay, I’ve been waiting all night. Give me the dirt on Aaron and Sam.”
“You sure? I mean, you’re not mature enough to talk on the phone without Mama Bear present. This could get you in so much trouble.”
“Really? You go three weeks without hearing my voice, and the first thing you do is go mega-bitch on me?”
“Ha-ha. Okay, hold on to your hair, because this will blow your mind.”
“Just tell me already. It’s freezing as fek outside.”
Kaitlyn snickers. Jennifer pictures her friend pacing the bedroom…the nice, warm, well-lit bedroom…phone clutched between her shoulder and cheek as she peeks into the backyard.
“All right, then. Since you had to sneak out of the den to hear my alluring voice, I’ll tell you. So get this. Aaron and Sam didn’t only rape Smith Town girls. They started in Genoa Cove.”
Jennifer switches the phone to her other ear and glances around the garage. It’s dark inside the farmhouse.
“Oh, my God. Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“Anyone we know?” Kaitlyn chomps on a piece of gum, a habit that turns Jennifer’s stomach. “Hurry. I don’t have all night.”
“What would you say if I told you they started with Aaron’s sister?”
Kaitlyn’s reply doubles Jennifer over. She drops to one knee, unsure how she got there. No, there has to be a mistake. She can’t mean Bethany.
“Who told you this?”
“It’s the talk of the school, stranger. If you hadn’t gone into hiding, you’d be in the loop.”
“Give me the deets, or it didn’t happen.”
“Turns out it was Sam’s idea. He came over to visit while Aaron was at the community house grabbing their mail. Bethany let him inside and told him to wait, but Sam followed Bethany to her bedroom.”
Gray matter sits in the pit of Jennifer’s stomach. She grabs her hair with her free hand and pulls, wanting to feel pain, wanting to experience anything besides the sickness gurgling through her body.
“Please tell me this is one of your jokes. Didn’t Aaron help her?”
“Not exactly.”
Jennifer doesn’t recall the rest of the conversation. She can’t be sure she didn’t end the call before Kaitlyn stopped talking, yet she’s haunted by Aaron Torres overpowering his sister and holding her down on the bed while Sam strips her clothes off.
Across the sky, the stars are sharp and uncaring as she sits in the dark and weeps. Hunter needs to know, but she can’t tell him. No way. The truth will kill him, and God knows how far he will go to make it back to North Carolina. He might steal Mom’s car or Laurie’s truck.
Another shiver of nausea rolls through Jennifer. Kaitlyn treated the situation like it was a joke, something to laugh about over stolen bottles of beer. She’s as artificial and caustic as the rest of the girls at Genoa Cove High School. And who leaked the story? Nobody should have learned the victims’ names.