Fatal Secrets Read online

  “I wish you’d sit down. I didn’t want you to go to any trouble on my account.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Mrs. McCauley assured him and gestured toward Ryan. “I’m so sorry, Charles, I didn’t even introduce—”

  “Oh, I’d know Ryan anywhere,” Charles broke in smoothly. “From the way Marissa described her. She talked about you a lot, Ryan. You must have been so close.”

  He was staring at her intently. Something about his expression seemed almost mocking, but Mrs. McCauley didn’t seem to notice.

  “Marissa’s—accident—has been pretty hard on Ryan. She was with Marissa when it happened, you see—”

  “So I heard,” Charles said softly. His eyes brushed over Ryan, leaving a peculiar coldness in their wake. “I’m sure it’s something … she’ll never forget.”

  You did say it … when I opened the door, you said what I thought you did—“I’m going to Phoebe’s,” Ryan burst out, and she could see the disapproval on her mother’s face as Mrs. McCauley motioned toward the kitchen.

  “Ryan, I wish you wouldn’t run off. I thought Phoebe was coming here to study. Isn’t that coffee ready yet?”

  “I forgot. She was coming here, but we decided to go there, instead. I just forgot.”

  “Ryan’s always forgetting things.” Mrs. McCauley gave Charles a strained smile. “Not like Marissa. Marissa never had trouble making up her mind—”

  “It doesn’t look very Christmasy in here,” Charles broke in pleasantly. “You decorate about as much as I do.”

  “Oh, we used to decorate … I just …” Mrs. McCauley’s eyes flicked to the mantel, more photos of Marissa, more painful reminders. “It just didn’t seem right somehow.…”

  To Ryan’s surprise, Charles said, “But what about Ryan? It must be hard on her, your not going ahead with family traditions. If it were me”—his eyes slid to Ryan’s puzzled face and then shifted away—“I guess I’d feel like I was being … you know … punished.”

  Ryan stared at him, but he kept his gaze averted. “I’m going to Phoebe’s,” she said again, but her mother didn’t seem to hear.

  “I suppose you’re looking forward to Christmas,” Mrs. McCauley said to Charles. “Being home from college, spending time with your family—”

  “Actually, I’m not.” Charles shook his head politely. “My parents are divorced. My dad’s in Europe on business, and my mom’s remarried, living out on the West Coast. I’ve been hanging out at school, but it’s so dead around there, I decided to just get in my car and drive.”

  “And you don’t have friends to stay with anywhere?”

  “No, I’m heading out again in the morning.” He laughed softly. “I booked myself a room at that motel outside of town.”

  “But that’s a terrible place to stay! There aren’t even any decent restaurants nearby!”

  “Really?” Charles looked surprised. “Marissa’s the one who gave me the name of that place—in case I ever got here over the holidays.”

  “Did she?” Mrs. McCauley leaned forward, her face wistful and sad. “Tell me how you knew her. What you remember about her.”

  Charles’s voice was barely a whisper. “I really miss her.”

  “Oh, I do, too. More than anyone can understand—”

  “Goodbye,” Ryan broke in. “I’m going.” But nobody seemed to care, and she escaped out the kitchen door.

  What kind of a creep had Marissa met up with this time! Ryan thrust her hands in her jacket and trudged off across the yard, down the slope behind the house. It was a shortcut she often took to Phoebe’s, one that ran through fields and woods instead of along the main road into town. The air was nippy, but she welcomed the sting of it against her cheeks. She couldn’t have stood another minute in the same room with Charles Eastman.

  It was a good twenty minutes’ walk to the Evanses’ house at the south edge of town. As Ryan wiped her feet on the welcome mat, she noticed both cars gone from the driveway, but she could hear loud music blaring from upstairs, which meant Jinx was home.

  “Phoebe!”

  The music kept going, and Ryan shouted again as she climbed the stairs to Phoebe’s room.

  “Phoebe, it’s me! Let’s study here tonight, okay?”

  “Go home, McCauley, who invited you?”

  As Ryan neared the landing, Jinx suddenly appeared in the upstairs hall, lounging lazily against the railing. There was something about Jinx that always made her smile, even though she and Phoebe usually felt like strangling him, and she hid a smile now as he purposely blocked her way to Phoebe’s room. He was a year younger, but every bit as tall as she was, and Ryan guessed that if he ever decided to unfold his body from its perpetual slouch, he’d be even taller. She and Phoebe had come to the conclusion long ago that Jinx had been born in tattered jeans and dirty sneakers—trading off seasonally between holey T-shirts and stained sweatshirts. The jeans he wore tonight had a torn back pocket and rips in both knees, and his hair, as usual, looked like he’d just gotten up and forgotten to comb it. His quick brown eyes never missed a thing, though most of the time they looked deceptively bored.

  Ryan stared at his ear and frowned. “So that’s where Phoebe’s earring went. She’ll really kill you this time.”

  “Like I’m worried.” His thin body slouched itself forward over the banister.

  “And new laces in your shoes. Fuchsia. How sweet.”

  “Yeah. I thought so.” A slow, disarming grin crept across his face, showing the one dimple in his cheek, the only similarity to Phoebe. Ryan wondered how he could often look so cuddly and be such a holy terror.

  “Don’t tell me she’s not here.”

  “She’s not here.”

  “But we were supposed to study—”

  “Forget that. Some guy called, and she went out.”

  “Really?” Ryan brightened. “Was it Michael Kilmer? Did he finally ask her to the dance?”

  Jinx shrugged. “Her eyes glazed over. That’s all I know.”

  Ryan sighed. “Well, I wish she’d at least called me.”

  “She did call you. She called you lots of things. But I stuck up for you.”

  “I meant on the phone. You know what I meant—”

  “She left a message with your mom.”

  “Well, that explains it.” Ryan grimaced. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  “What do I look like—a secretary?” He snorted and started back down the hall to his room. “I got things to do.”

  “Important, I’m sure.” Ryan heard the thump of a basketball hitting the wall, and she trailed along, following the sound. Jinx’s room was a perfect reflection of his personality, and she paused in the doorway, shaking her head.

  “How can you live in here? Where’s your bed?”

  Totally unbothered, Jinx yanked his headphones down over his ears and promptly flopped down amidst pillows, tangled covers, books, dirty clothes, car magazines, CDs, and baseball cards. “Don’t you have something to do?” he yelled. “Besides standing around adoring me, I mean?”

  Ryan sighed and went down to the kitchen, stopping to admire the Christmas tree along the way. She’d always loved the Evanses’ house—its cozy atmosphere always encouraged warm visits and heart-to-heart talks. Helping herself to a ham sandwich, she sat down and opened her history book. I have to study … I have to concentrate. But every time she closed her eyes to memorize something, Charles Eastman’s face popped into her mind and spoke to her. “You’re the one who let her drown.”

  “I didn’t,” Ryan whispered, pressing her hands over her eyes. “I didn’t let Marissa drown. You didn’t say that … why did you say that?”

  A sudden noise made her jump. Jinx was propped in the doorway staring at her.

  “There’s a guy at my house,” Ryan said stupidly.

  “So what’d you do, kidnap him?” Jinx sauntered in, opened the pantry, shrugged, left the door open. “You’re gonna have to think up new ways to get a date, McCauley.”

&n
bsp; “I’m serious.”

  Jinx stood at the sink with his back to her. After a moment he glanced over his shoulder.

  “What guy?”

  “He just showed up. Just tonight, out of the blue. With Christmas presents he said Marissa’d bought for us. He was at school with her. I guess they went out.”

  “So?”

  “So … I think he’s weird.”

  “You should know.” Jinx turned his attention back to the countertop. He took an apple from a bowl and bit into it with a loud, intentional crunch.

  “I shouldn’t have gone off like that,” Ryan mumbled. “I shouldn’t have left Mom there alone with him. I shouldn’t even be here.” She stared down at her book and frowned. “I should go. I don’t know why I even came here in the first place.”

  “Well, when you finish this fascinating conversation with yourself, let me know what one of you decides to do.”

  “Maybe I should call the police.” Ryan sat straighter, her frown deepening. “Do you think I should call the police? I mean, we don’t know anything about this guy—do we?”

  Jinx shrugged. “I give up. Do we?”

  “Then maybe I should call the police—”

  “No, no”—Jinx reached toward the phone—“let me call them. They have places for people like you who go around arguing with themselves.”

  Ryan closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, Jinx was staring at her curiously.

  “Hey, McCauley … you okay?”

  “He said I let Marissa drown,” Ryan murmured.

  “What?” Jinx’s face hovered between skepticism and surprise, and he took another bite of apple, continuing to talk around it. “That’s dumb. He didn’t say that. Why’d you think he said that?”

  “Because …” Ryan’s mind went back … the front door opening … Charles Eastman’s face peering over the packages … “I just did. That’s what it sounded like.”

  “That’s really dumb,” Jinx said again. “Tell me how he said it. How you thought he said it.”

  “‘You’re …’” Ryan took a deep breath. ‘“You’re the one … who let her drown.’ That’s how it was.”

  “Your mom heard him say it?”

  “No, she wasn’t there. She came down right after.”

  “Then you must have gotten it all messed up in your head.” Jinx looked annoyed now, and he spit some seeds into the sink. “He probably said, ‘I’m new in town’ … or … or maybe ‘I’ll hang around.’ Something like that.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think—that’s the whole problem with you,” Jinx snorted. “I mean, why would a total stranger ring your doorbell and say something dumb like that? Hey—where you going?”

  “Home.” Ryan gathered her things and paused by the front door to put on her coat. “Tell Phoebe to call me the minute she gets home. Okay? No matter how late.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Jinx waved impatiently, following her onto the porch. “Man, it is cold out here … and you walked over? What a loony.”

  “Mom needed the car to pick up Steve. Anyway, it’s not that bad.”

  “Anyway, like I’d trust your judgment.” He shivered and thrust his hands into his jeans pockets. “How come you never drive Marissa’s car?”

  “You know why,” Ryan retorted. “It’s part of the shrine. Sacred. Can’t be touched.”

  “So touch it. What’s your mom gonna do?”

  Ryan considered a moment. “Cry. Mope. Sulk.”

  “Ah. The usual.”

  “I hate it there, Jinx. It’s like a funeral home. I want a Christmas tree.”

  “So get a Christmas tree.”

  “I want to be happy again.”

  “Then stop making yourself unhappy. Only you can.”

  She looked at him in mild surprise, and he shrugged his shoulders with a lopsided grin.

  “See you around, McCauley. Don’t talk to strangers—or yourself—on the way home.”

  Ryan stood there a moment after Jinx had gone inside. She watched the Christmas tree glowing in the front window … she breathed in the sweet aroma of winter and woodsmoke and pine trees that lined the drive. The air felt heavy and wet with the promise of snow, and she walked quickly, slowing down only when she reached the frozen creek near her house.

  Stopping, Ryan felt the hair prickle along her scalp. The woods were full of silence, and then the cold, cold sigh of the wind.

  Ryan frowned, her hands making fists in her pockets.

  She listened, and the night listened back.

  She started walking again, her ears straining through the deep winter night. She thought she heard a rustle of leaves … the soft sucking of mud. A raccoon, she tried to tell herself, or maybe a deer … Annoyed with herself, she started to duck under a fence.

  It’s back … something … watching me …

  With a gasp Ryan spun around, challenging the empty fields with wide, frightened eyes. No, I’m only imagining it, just like the doll in the pond, just like Charles’s speech at the door, just like I’ve started imagining lots of things since Marissa died—yet she began to run, across the fields, up the last slope to the house, her breath ragged in her throat as she fell into the kitchen, as she sagged against the door—

  “Mom! Mom, where are you?”

  But of course Mom wasn’t there, Ryan remembered now, she’d gone after Steve and they’d eat out afterward and thank God I’m home safe, and Charles is gone—

  Ryan felt weak as she dragged herself upstairs. She left the switch on in the hall, and she left her door open, and then she turned on every lamp in her room, flooding herself with bright, safe light. She took hold of the sweater she was wearing and began pulling it up over her head.

  “I’d close the door if I were you.”

  Gasping, Ryan whirled around, her arms tangling in her sweater as she tried to jerk it back down again.

  Charles Eastman was standing in her doorway.

  Smiling.

  “I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

  Ryan stared at him and felt her cheeks burn as his eyes moved from her sweater to her face. “What are you doing here? What are you doing in my house?” She took a step toward the phone on the nightstand by her bed. “Get out of here right now.”

  “But didn’t you know?” And his mouth fell open in mock surprise. “Your mom asked me to stay.”

  “She … what!”

  “She invited me to stay. To spend Christmas. I was just going to the motel to get my stuff.”

  Ryan saw the smile widen across his lips and the way he took another casual step into her room. She heard her own voice, and it sounded strange and hollow.

  “But … she couldn’t have. We don’t even know you.”

  “Your mom likes me.” He smiled again and came closer, hesitating at the foot of the bed. “And Marissa liked me,” he said softly. He leaned toward her.

  His smile was gone.

  “But you don’t like me. Do you, Ryan.”

  As Ryan stared back at him, she saw Charles lift his hand … felt his fingertips trace lightly down one side of her face … across her shoulder … down her arm …

  “Well, who knows?” He shrugged, and again something flickered behind his smile, behind his eyes, that made Ryan’s skin turn cold. “I just might surprise you.”

  Chapter 4

  How could you?” Ryan demanded before her mother could get in the back door. “I can’t believe this!”

  Mrs. McCauley dropped her purse on the counter but didn’t turn around right away. “Ryan, I don’t think I need to explain myself to you—I’m still the head of this house—”

  “Welcome home, Steve!” Steve said with forced brightness behind her. “Gosh, Steve, it sure wasn’t the same with you gone! Come on, ladies, it’s too late for an argument tonight, okay?”

  “Steve, do something!” Ryan looked at him as he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the tabl
e. “Can’t you make her listen?”

  “It’s not his decision to make,” Mrs. McCauley said. “I want Charles to stay—and Ryan, keep your voice down, I don’t want him to hear you.”

  “He won’t. He went to get his things.”

  “Have a nice trip, Steve?” Steve nodded in answer to his own question. “Hey, I sure did! And thanks for asking!”

  “You don’t even know him!” Ryan went on. “You don’t know anything about him! He could be—”

  “He and Marissa were good friends,” Mrs. McCauley said softly. She braced herself against the counter, her hands trembling. “If Marissa cared about him, then he’s welcome here.”

  “Did you ever hear her mention him?” Ryan persisted. “Did you ever hear his name around here a single time?”

  “I’m sure there were lots of friends we never heard about. You know how popular Marissa was.”

  “Leslie, I think what Ryan’s trying to say,” Steve began, clearing his throat, “I mean, she’s really got a valid point, I think—”

  “I want him here,” Mrs. McCauley said, her voice beginning to quiver. “He was a part of Marissa’s life. I want him here.”

  “Oh, Mom!”

  “We don’t have Marissa this Christmas, and Charles doesn’t have his family. The least we can do is share our holidays with him. For Marissa’s sake.”

  Ryan stared at Steve, who silently mouthed a warning to let the subject drop. Ryan ignored him.

  “What holidays? A couple hours ago you couldn’t have cared less whether Christmas came or not. Now all of a sudden—” She broke off as her mother’s shoulders began to shake, as the quiet sobbing filled the silent kitchen. Steve got up and motioned Ryan away, and she slipped dejectedly up to her room.

  I don’t even belong here. I’m an outcast in my own house. As Ryan stretched out across her bed, the telephone rang, and she was relieved to hear Phoebe’s giggle on the other end of the line.