Dear Ava(40)

“No, you wouldn’t,” I assure him, and he just stares at me.

“I’m your brother. That’s what you’re supposed to say because you love me, but what if I did?”

“You didn’t!” My gut fucking knows it! “Look at how the idea of it wrecks you! You didn’t!”

He flinches and I exhale and ease him up by his arms, helping him stand.

I make him sit on the toilet as I lean over the sink, turn on the water, and splash my face. After drying my face, I pick up the razors and face him. “Dane, you can’t quit on me, okay? I’m going to get you help, and you’ve got to stop with the drugs, and…” I stop, swallowing.

What does he need? He needs me and Dad. We need to circle the wagons and get him straight.

He dips his head. “This is what’s been eating at me, and for months my brain has been telling me I knew something. I don’t want to be part of that, to hurt a person like Ava.” He bites his lip, trying to fight the tears, but they’re back, coursing down his face. “I’m sorry, God, I’m so sorry. I know you care about her, and what have I done?”

I watch him and wrestle with my emotions about Ava, knowing I have to be strong for him. “Come on, let’s get you dressed.” I dash into his room, grab him some joggers and a T-shirt from his chest of drawers, and press them into his hands. Inside, I’m seething with suppressed rage over Liam, but somehow I manage to keep it from spilling over. Liam’s been at the center of Dane’s issues for months. Oh, I’m not stupid, I know my brother has problems, but Liam, that motherfucker, I’m going to kill—

“I can’t go to school,” Dane murmurs.

“I know.” I’m just glad he’s putting his pants on. I don’t want to think about the broken boy in the shower.

“How does peppermint tea sound? We can talk. Are you high right now?”

Isn’t that what old people do, coffee and tea until everything’s okay?

He shakes his head, and when I meet his eyes, they still have that vacant look, but his pupils are normal.

After I change into some sweats and a shirt that isn’t wet, we walk downstairs to the kitchen, and I put the kettle on, wishing Dad were here. He’s on a plane and won’t land until noon. We’re going to need his help. None of this can go wrong if we want to keep Dane safe from himself while also making sure Liam gets what he deserves.

I send Dad a text, not really saying what’s up but letting him know it’s an emergency and to call me when he gets service. Don’t need to leave a trail, runs through my head, because I’m paranoid as shit. There’s no real proof it was Liam, and if we run and accuse him now, more than likely, he’ll point his finger at Dane and say it was him who drugged her. Hell, he could even say it was Dane who followed her into the woods. All kinds of different possibilities run through my head as I make our tea, dunking the herbal bag.

Dane sits at the marble island and sips his until there’s color in his face once again. He eyes me. “What are you thinking? Do I need to go to Ava—”

I hold my hand up. The last thing Dane needs is to be around Ava. He’s teetering on the edge and his guilt is palpable, a tangible thing.

“Liam’s at school and we aren’t. That’s what I’m thinking.” I take a sip, looking at him over the rim of my cup. “We need proof.” Or maybe I just need to see it for myself, to confirm everything Dane has said, because while I trust that he didn’t hurt Ava, his head isn’t on quite straight right now, and I need to see for myself what Liam did to her. My hands tighten.

He nods, watching my fists. “If you beat him up, you’ll be arrested. They’re somebody in this town, Knox. His dad is the fucking mayor. We need to wait for Dad before we go to the cops.”

Frustration gnaws at me. “But if he was talking about trophies, I’d like to see them.”

Dane starts. “How? I don’t even know where he keeps them.”

“Where do you keep your drugs? The good stuff?”

“Bedroom. High up in the closet inside a box under a bunch of sweaters.”

I nod, making a note to go find them later and dump them. “Then, we’re going to get into his bedroom. That’s where his secrets are. His parents are working. He has a maid and a chef, right?”

He nods, a nervous look on his face. “What are you thinking?”

I’m not thinking straight at all. I’m operating on instinct.

“We knock on the door, tell them you left your phone in Liam’s room, which makes perfect sense—you were there last night, and it’s legit if Liam asks because he tried to text you this morning and couldn’t get you.” I pause. “Plus, if we find his…whatever he keeps, and by now, I’m thinking underwear…” I pause. “I need to see it, Dane.”

Dane gives me a long look. “You’re in love with her.”

I don’t respond for several moments. “I tried to stay away from her.” For you.

He sighs and stares down at his tea. “Just…just don’t let Dad put me at Lakeside, okay? Mom hated that place.”

Lakeside is a private facility where Mom stayed on and off.

“Maybe you need to stay for a week or so—”

“No. I don’t want to not see you! I’ll go back to therapy and that’s it.” He swallows. “I’ll go today if you’ll go with me. I need you, Knox.”

I exhale and nod, knowing I’ll probably need to convince Dad of it, and then make us a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast as we talk more, letting him settle. I watch him closely, feeling better as his color brightens and he eats everything on his plate.

After I’ve called Suzy to check in and let her know we’re home today so she won’t be surprised if she sees us, I look at him. I don’t want to push him to do too much, but…

“You really want to sneak into Liam’s?” he asks.

I nod. “If you don’t want to, I’ll do it.”

He exhales. “I want to. Maybe it might jog a memory if I hurt her. I mean…” His lashes flutter. “What if it was…both of us?”

“It fucking wasn’t,” I say firmly as I grab my keys.









An hour later, the deed is done, and we leave Liam’s and get in my car. I drive to the end of their lane before I have to stop and let Dane vomit. It went pretty much like I thought it would, me smiling at the waitstaff while Dane nodded and went along with me, then we went to Liam’s bedroom on the second floor. We shut the door, locked it, and divided the room. He took the closet and I headed for the chest of drawers. I was close to giving up when I lifted his mattress. There, in an Adidas bag, I dumped out panties and thongs, some plain, some frilly. A white pair stood out. ATH was written on the back waistband. Ava Tulip Harris. She put her initials there, the same kind she wore last night.

We stood there and waffled on what to do with them. If Liam got suspicious, he might move them. If we took them, it would be messing with evidence. In the end, I used Dane’s burner to take pictures of them, making sure to get Liam’s bedroom in the photo. I don’t even know if it makes sense to take the pictures, but I’m worried he’ll ditch the underwear.

And now here we are.

Dane wipes his mouth. Puts his seat belt back on. “Do you…do you think they’ll prosecute me too? I deserve it for not remembering.”

My hands tighten around the wheel as I pull out. I don’t know if he’ll be an accomplice, but either way, this is about to be very ugly.

“In the end, it will probably come down to his word against yours about the woods and what you saw. You were trashed, but those underwear are damning.” I mull it over and decide I just don’t know enough. “He’s going to say it was you. He already dropped a hint when he said you roofied her.”

He nods, looking out the window.

A text comes in and I check my phone: a message from Dad saying he’s catching the next flight back and will be here in a few hours. I let Dane know.

He leans back against the headrest. “Thank you for coming home. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says as he looks out the window.

He’s asleep before I even reach our house.





18





“Here comes Darth Vader and Tyler. They’re getting out of the nun-mobile,” Lou says as I walk by with a platter of two burgers and fries for a two-top. Moving fast, I set down the couple’s food then bus another table on the way back.

“It’s a van. A regular van,” I tell Lou.

He grimaces. “They should paint a habit on the hood. Or a starship.”

“You’re a weirdo,” I call out to him, watching as Sister Margaret and Tyler make their way to the front door of the diner.

He throws his arms up. “I’m a nonpracticing Catholic. She’s a nun. It feels like she knows I don’t go to Mass. Don’t they have God on speed dial? She probably knows I’m divorced too,” he mutters.

I bite my lip.

Rosemary, the cook, calls out from behind the grill in the kitchen. “You also drink and cuss like a sailor and take the Lord’s name in vain—”

“Be quiet! She’s about to come in!” Lou shouts back. He lingers behind the register, one eye on the door. He snaps his fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot—a lady brought this by today when I opened up. I think it’s a tip.” He hands me a note. “She said to be sure you got it.”