Chapter Seven

Rafe got three beers from the fridge and a bag of frozen peas for Jeremy. He lay stretched on the sofa, and Rafe tossed him the peas.

“Here,” he said. Rafe wasn’t proud of himself for how hard he’d punched Jeremy. But no denying, it had been a good punch.

Jeremy lifted his shirt to reveal a red bruise. “Ah, nice. It’s like that red storm on Jupiter.”

“It’s not nice.” Emilie glared at Rafe. “You don’t go around punching people when they annoy you.”

“Princess?” Jeremy said. “Welcome to West Virginia.”

“I miss Ohio.”

Rafe looked at her and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” she asked. She was perched on the arm of the sofa by Jeremy’s head. Behind her, he mouthed, Say yes.

“Yes?” Rafe said.

“Good. Because you could have broken his ribs, okay? Not cool.”

“Did I break anything?” Rafe asked him.

“Just a flesh wound. How’s your hand?”

“Been better.” Rafe flexed his fingers. “Gonna need at least a week off jacking.”

“Hey,” Emilie said. “A lady is present.”

“Sorry. Old joke. Blame him.” He pointed at Jeremy.

“Freshman English,” Jeremy said. “Mrs. Melby asked for an example of rewriting a sentence so it didn’t end in a preposition.”

Rafe said, “This jackass raised his hand and said, ‘Tonight in the shower, I will off-jack.’ ”

Jeremy snorted a laugh but flinched. He caught his breath and said, “Two days in detention for me, and one day for him because he laughed so hard, that jackass fell off his chair. Totally worth it.”

“And you two are the jackasses I thought could help me find my sister?” she said. “What was I thinking?”

Rafe wasn’t laughing anymore. “Your name’s Emilie?”

She nodded. “Emilie Wendell.”

“I can’t help you find your sister, Emilie,” Rafe said. “I don’t remember anything about when we were lost in Red Crow.”

“As long as you’re with us,” Jeremy said, “I’ll handle the rest. Okay?”

Rafe glanced at Emilie. “Can you give us a minute?”

“No,” she said. “Absolutely not. And you can’t make me.”

“Do you have any Tylenol in your car?” Jeremy asked her.

“If I get it for you, will you throw it at him?” she asked, pointing at Rafe.

“Please,” Jeremy said.

She sighed heavily, then stood up. Rafe would have laughed at the stern look on her face, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Don’t touch him. Don’t lay a hand on him. He can’t find my sister if he’s broken.”

“No promises.”

“Promises,” she demanded. “I don’t know how to hurt people, but I can learn. No more punching Jeremy.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I promise I won’t punch him.” He looked at Jeremy. “I like her.”

“Thanks,” Emilie said, glaring. “The jury’s still out on you.”

She left, letting the screen door swing shut so hard it sounded like a gun going off.

“They must not have screen doors in Ohio,” Jeremy said.

“Where did you get that painting?”

Jeremy sat up and tossed the frozen peas onto the coffee table. “Your mother rescued it from the bin and sent it to Mum. She wanted me to have it.”

“I tossed it for a reason.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “You shouldn’t throw away something valuable or meaningful just because you think it’s worthless. You don’t get to decide that.”

“Why do I think we’re not talking about my painting anymore?”

“Because you’re smarter than you look,” Jeremy said.

“You could’ve brought it here. Any particular reason I had to drive all the way to your old house to get it?”

“I wanted you to remember that we’re friends. Or at least remember I was never your enemy. I promise, staying away from you was the last thing I wanted to do, but I wasn’t given much choice.”

“Right, right. Secrets. State secrets.”

“Bigger than state secrets. Much bigger.”

Rafe tried to muster up the old anger and bitterness, but it was gone.

“You really think this girl who’s been missing twenty years is alive out there?”

“Yes.”

“And we knew her?”