“High praise coming from the queen of questions.”
“I’ve got a long way to go,” I say. I don’t elaborate any more than that. I don’t say it’s a miracle no one died in that basement given the amount of blood shed there. Young ears are listening.
Jasmine squeals and holds the box up to her father. “My own pair,” she says, pointing to the small gold earrings I brought for her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I hate you had to come all this way just to give her those,” Marshall says.
“I was in the neighborhood,” I say.
“Duty calls?” he asks.
“Something like that. I also wanted to give them in person so I could thank you both.”
His brow furrows. “For what?”
“For trusting me that day in Natchitoches.”
He nods. “I’m so sorry for what happened. It’s—”
I hold up my hand and point down to Jasmine, who is fumbling to get the earrings in.
He pulls me aside. “I saw Eleanor Chamberlain is being held without bail.”
I nod.
I’ve lain awake at night thinking of Eleanor and Summer and Crowley and how completely horrific it all is. Eleanor was the one to push for the school to close shortly after Heather had run off. She was also the one fighting to have it torn down to make way for an eco-lodge that would ensure he was buried forever.
“Look,” Jasmine says, running over to us and showing us her ears.
“Beautiful,” Marshall says.
“I have one more gift for you,” I say to Jasmine. “But this one’s not wrapped.”
She looks up at me. I reach in my tote and pull out a children’s book,No Matter What. I bought a copy for myself as well. I have to start somewhere. “This was recommended to me by a friend.”
She takes the book and looks it over. “Thanks.”
It doesn’t elicit quite the same reaction as the earrings, but it will come in much handier down the road.
“Gotta go,” I say to her. “But let’s plan a time when we can see each other again soon.”
She hugs me again, and I climb back in my car, watching her run to her father’s side. Marshall wasn’t the only one who trusted me. Summer trusted me also, offering me an interview. Her only public statement. It’s airing tonight, but there’s no fancy party or celebrating. I’m not even in Dallas with the crew who produced it. No need to relive it again. Hearing what Summer had to say in person was enough. How Summer bragged about the money hidden in Johnny’s cottage. The money Crowley stole for her. Heather planned to steal it that night, but Heather didn’t know Summer, afraid and realizing she was in over her head, had reached out to her mother to come get her the same night Crowley showed up. A perfect storm of emotions, panic and rage. Heather succeeding in grabbing not only the bag of money but also a fistful of Eleanor’s hair before running.
But that’s not all Summer told me. The scariest statement she made was off the record.
My phone dings.
Hustle or you’re going to miss it.
I park in the sandy lot by the beach closest to South Pointe Pier. Waves roll into the sand. It’s not Hobie Beach where Laura Sanders’s body was found, but my body is reacting as if it is. I can do this.
I open the door and clip across the concrete in my heels. I roll my neck. I shut my eyes a minute and inhale the salty air. Inhale, exhale. My father recovered fully. He’s stronger than even I knew. Thankfully, Rosalie is recovering as well. I reached out to her once she was back home, but she and Johnny both asked for privacy. And I gave it to them.
A warm breeze kicks up off the ocean.
I think of Marshall, of little Jasmine. Of the fact her mother’s body is being exhumed to look for signs of insulin poisoning since Mulholland discovered a chartered plane registered to Eleanor Chamberlain landed in Miami on the day Laura Sanders went missing. Eleanor is still claiming she’s innocent of that death even though she is behind bars for Crowley’s. The DNA on the hair recovered from the coat combined with Summer’s account of what happened in that cottage resulted in Eleanor’s arrest. Proving Crowley was wrong. There is one thing more diabolical than a teenage girl—her mother.
