Kiss and Tell(9)

She’d never given all of herself to someone before. It made her feel like he was carrying her heart in his hands. All it would take was one drop, and he’d break it. So, of course, she’d sabotaged things instead.

She’d made the worst mistake of her life, sleeping with Remsen, a popular photographer. Afterward, she hadn’t been able to face Josh. So she’d left New York without a good-bye—just a note posted to his door—and she’d ignored every phone call and e-mail he’d sent. There was nothing to say. She’d fallen into her own trap and ruined everything. If she couldn’t forgive herself, how could he? But then last week, after a year of no contact, Josh had shown up in Echo Bay, and all their old feelings had resurfaced.

Now, Emerson drummed her fingers nervously against the wheel. Soon she’d have to tell Josh about the video of her and Matt. The thought of Josh looking at her differently afterward made her chest squeeze painfully. She put her car back into gear. She had to do something to keep herself busy for the next hour or the nerves would eat her alive.

She was subconsciously driving toward the Landing Spot diner before she realized where she was headed. Delancey had gone there the day before she died, even though she had despised the place. It could mean nothing at all. Or it could mean something important. If there was any connection between the Landing Spot and their darer, Emerson was going to find it.

The smell of grease and stale coffee bombarded her as she walked into the diner a few minutes later. The place was a steel box, with fluorescent lights that made the waitresses’ orange polyester uniforms glow. She grabbed one of the cracked vinyl stools along the bar and pretended to study the menu.

“What can I getcha?” Emerson looked up to find a bleached-blond woman standing over her. Her plastic name tag read KARRIE.

“I’ll have a decaf coffee,” Emerson said, choosing the first thing she saw on the menu.

“That all?”

“For now.” Emerson pulled out her phone as Karrie went over to the coffeepot. Her stomach turned as she opened Winslow’s website and clicked to the memorial page dedicated to Delancey. Delancey’s big blue eyes smiled up at her, and suddenly the image twisted before her vision: those same eyes, now wide and glassy.

Karrie placed a chipped mug in front of her, making some of the coffee slosh over the edge. “Cream or sugar?”

Emerson shook her head. “Actually, I was wondering if you’ve seen this girl before? I think she came in here to see her cousin.” She held up her phone, and Karrie crouched down to get a better look.

“That’s the girl who hung herself, right?”

Emerson nodded. “Do you happen to know her cousin who works here?”

Karrie shrugged, making her gold snake pendant slide across her collarbone. “No, but I only work Tuesdays. Helen, on the other hand, practically lives here. She’d be the one to ask.” She waved a white-haired waitress over. “This girl has a question for ya, Helen.”

Emerson held up her phone once more. “I’m looking for this girl’s cousin. Her name’s Delancey Crane?”

Helen leaned heavily against the green Formica bar. “Poor girl. Was she a friend of yours?”

“Yeah.” Guilt flashed through Emerson at the lie, but she pushed past it. “It was just so sudden.” She hadn’t had time to plan out a story, but one just came spilling out. “My therapist thinks the best way for me to move on is to try to relive her last few days, feel what she was feeling, you know? And someone told me she came by here to see her cousin.” She looked up at Helen with her most innocent expression.

“Marcus,” Helen said. Emerson’s heart leaped as Helen twisted a short strand of white hair around her finger. “He’s one of our line chefs. Pretty beat-up about her death. He’s in today. You think talking to him would help, honey?”

Emerson nodded eagerly. “Definitely.”

Helen pointed toward a swinging door behind the bar. “Kitchen’s through there. Just go on back.”

Emerson glanced nervously over her shoulder as she went behind the bar, but no one seemed to notice, or care, that a customer was strolling toward the kitchen. She squared her shoulders and pushed through the swinging door. “You lost?” A guy with hairnet-covered cornrows stopped in front of her. He made no attempt at hiding the once-over he was giving her.

“Are you Marcus?” Emerson asked, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

“I could be,” the guy said appreciatively.

“Ignore him,” a voice called out from across the kitchen. “What’s up?”

Emerson followed the voice with her eyes. When they landed on its owner, her jaw practically hit the floor. The guy was young, probably only a few years older than she was. He was medium height and a little gangly. But it was his face she couldn’t stop staring at. The resemblance was uncanny; he could easily have been Delancey Crane’s brother.

“You’re Marcus?” she choked out.

The guy nodded. “And you are…?” he asked, coming over to Emerson.

“I’m Emerson. I was a friend of Delancey’s.” Emerson’s eyes bounced between Marcus’s brown curls and big blue eyes. “You were her cousin, right?”

Marcus’s smile faltered. “I still can’t believe you have to say were.”

“I know,” Emerson said quietly. “Delancey came by to see you, didn’t she? Right before…?” She trailed off, unable to finish.

“Oh, are you here for the key?” Marcus asked. “I was wondering what to do with it now.”

“The key,” Emerson repeated. Instantly, her pulse began to race. “Yeah,” she said quickly. “I thought I’d come get it.” She paused, praying she got the next question right. “When did she leave it with you?”

“The day before she died. She said she was playing this big game of truth or dare with her friends and asked if I would hold on to it, hide it for her. Girls and their games,” Marcus added, with a rueful smile. “I just wish I’d known that it would be the last time I saw her.”

Emerson nodded mutely. Her thoughts began to tailspin at the mention of truth or dare. Delancey wouldn’t have chosen that phrase at random; it had to mean something.

“Yeah.” Her voice croaked and she quickly cleared her throat. “I know the feeling.”

Marcus went over to the line of cabinets in the back of the kitchen and pulled a key off the top shelf. “Here.” He held it out to Emerson. It was gold and plain-looking, like a regular house key. “Good luck with your game.”

Nerves shot through Emerson as she left the diner. This key had something to do with the darer; she was sure of it. Why else would Delancey have gone to such lengths to hide it?

Whatever it was that Delancey had learned, this key was going to lead Emerson to it.




As Emerson drove the winding roads to Anaswan, she forced her thoughts off the key and back onto Josh. He’d shocked her last week when he’d arrived in Echo Bay. He’d gotten a publishing deal for the book he’d been working on for as long as she’d known him, and he had put off college to work on revisions. He’d come to town looking for inspiration for the ending, but what he’d found instead was Emerson. Over the weekend, they’d finally kissed again. Emerson smiled at the memory. Kissing Josh had been like coming home after a long trip away. In some ways it had been the same, familiar and comforting. But it had been different, too, like finding a new bend in a road you’d traveled all your life.

A heavy silence wrapped around Emerson as she climbed the long stairwell to the top of the lighthouse. It was dark, half of the lightbulbs burned out, and a shivery feeling crept under her skin. For a second, she could swear she heard the soft patter of footsteps behind her, but when she froze, the noise faded into nothingness. Just my imagination, she told herself. Still, she jogged up the last bend, emerging slightly out of breath into the lantern room.

“Whoa.” She stopped short. The usually bare lantern room had been transformed. Strings of lights twinkled along the circular wall of windows. In the back of the room, a blue blanket had been laid out. It was covered in food: a box of Wheat Thins, a bottle of spray cheese, a tub of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, a pile of York Peppermint Patties, and a bowl of Cheez-Its. A laugh bubbled out of Emerson. They were all her favorite snacks. Candles in small votives glowed next to the blanket, sending shadows dancing across the lighthouse ceiling.

Josh was leaning against one of the windowed walls, his eyes a swirl of green and brown under the flickering lights. “I thought we were due an official second first date.” He grinned, and the sight of him was so familiar: the slight gap in his teeth and the crook in his nose, his hair combed into its half Mohawk, his frame almost too tall for the room. Something swelled deep inside Emerson’s chest.

“I don’t know what to say.” She took a seat on the blanket and popped several Cheez-Its into her mouth.

“A smile would suffice,” Josh replied. He sat down next to her, tucking his long legs beneath him. “You’ve been so down lately, Em. I thought you needed some cheering up.” Josh touched her hand, making a tingle shoot up her arm.