Despite myself, I look over my shoulder, too. There’s nothing there but the trees and the bushes, waving in a night breeze. But I remember that feeling of eyes on the back of my neck. For the first time, I wonder how close I came to dying that night, or Seth, or both of us. The person who pushed Thatcher must have still been nearby.
Was it safety in numbers? If it had been only me, or only Seth, would they have hesitated to attack us, too?
Or are we safe—because one of us is meant to take the fall?
That pit in my stomach—the guilt of lying to my dad again, of thinking about how he would feel if he knew where I really was right now—gets bigger.
“Fair enough,” Seth says finally. He looks at her car. “I’m going to walk Addie home. You’re okay getting back?”
She rolls her eyes. “The house is right there and I have my car. And I don’t think anyone’s waiting to murder me in the garage.”
So we say our goodbyes after Kendall makes us promise to let her know if we find anything out, and Seth makes her promise the same in return. Then she disappears into her car, leaving Seth and me out in the darkness, alone.
10
Seth and I don’t say anything as we make our way down the moonlight-spotted sidewalk. I’m still worried about Davy, worried about me, angry at the cops and at whoever else is out there trying to hurt us. But I also feel like the burden I was carrying has just gotten a little lighter. I look over at Seth. It’s this: for the first time in a long while, having another person by my side.
This past year, I tried to not let myself feel the loneliness. I ran; I tutored strangers on the internet; I recited prime numbers; I googled facts about Stanford, my someday dream grad school. But right now I let the loneliness in, just a little bit, and am surprised to find that with Seth next to me, it doesn’t hurt as much.
As we start toward the main road, Seth clears his throat.
“I think we should head to UPenn,” he says. “Philly’s not that far.”
I side-eye him. “You think we can just drive to Pennsylvania, walk up to Caleb Jones, and say, ‘Hey, Caleb, did you lie about where Thatcher was the night of Fiona’s murder?’ ”
“No. We walk up to him and just ask what he knows. Maybe Thatcher told him about the fight you saw. Or…maybe Thatcher told him who did it.”
“I really don’t think Caleb did it,” I say.
Seth shakes his head. “Me neither. But I think it’s very possible he lied about Thatcher’s alibi. And I want to know why.” Then he looks at me. “But we have to approach him like we’re not suspicious of him. Which means you can’t be all ragey at him.”
“I’m not ragey—”
“You’re always ragey. And you can leave the talking up to me, if you think it’ll be too hard.”
I tamp down the retort that springs to my lips. “How are we going to get around not being seen together?”
“I’ll pick you up somewhere outside of town. No one will have to know. We can get to Philly and back in a day. I drive fast.”
“Comforting.”
When I still hesitate, he nudges me with his arm. “Come on. It’ll be good to get out of here for a bit, anyway.”
I sigh. “We’re going to get sick of each other.”
He lifts his mouth at one corner in a little half smile. “A risk I’m willing to take.”
I meet his eyes, and a zip goes down my spine.
I can’t start thinking about that again. Yes, I’m attracted to Seth, maybe I always have been, maybe I always will be. But the last time I let myself wander down that path, my sister died. Seth and I are childhood frenemies turned one-night stand turned co-investigators. Nothing more.
We walk the remaining blocks to my house in silence. When we get there, we stop and look at each other.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask. Then I hastily add, “Not okay, I know nothing’s okay right now, but if you need to talk…” I pull out my burner phone.
He looks surprised. Runs a hand over his face. “I’ll be okay.” Then: “Thanks, Addie.”
He doesn’t leave yet. That grief is back on his face, and I know what he’s thinking. That I was a good distraction, for a time. But now he has to go home alone, to his room, and think about what he’s lost.
We don’t speak. It’s suddenly awkward. Seth’s looking at me and for a moment I think he’s going to reach out and hug me. All at once I find myself wanting that: the feel of his arms around me, being engulfed in the scent of him, expensive shampoo and grass and night air and boy. It’s been so long since anyone’s hugged me.
But instead of stepping toward me, he stays where he is and lifts his hand to his head in a weird little salute. “Sweet dreams, Addie.”
“Yeah. You too. Um, thanks for the escort.”
“Anytime.”
He turns to go, and I have a sudden moment of panic that he won’t make it home, that he, too, is heading out to get swallowed by the darkness of Bier’s End. “Be careful!”
Seth stops, turns, tilts his head at me. “I’ll be all right.”
“Just—text me when you get home.”
He has a bemused look on his face. “Will do.”
Once I’m back inside, I lock the door behind me, then stand, touching Fiona’s necklace, and stare out at the still, moonlit night.
I’ve always painted Seth Montgomery as my enemy. The rich summer kid who once a year deigned to come down from his fancy Manhattan apartment, take time off from his trips to Europe, to tumble around the wilds of Bier’s End with the locals. Now I wonder if all that was my way of holding him at arm’s length, making sure he never got close enough for me to really look at him. It’s so much easier to deal with people when we can stuff them into little boxes.