“It was important that I talk to him about some stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“I just wanted to know what the police said to him.”
Not totally a lie.
Davy narrows his eyes. “Do they think you did it?”
“No,” I say quickly.
“Do they think Seth did it?”
“No. They just were asking us questions because we were there.”
“So who do they think did it?”
“I don’t know.” Also not technically a lie.
Sadie wanders in then, sniffs at my hand, then heads over to eat the Cheerio Davy dropped on the floor.
Davy doesn’t pay her any attention. “What made you think it was a good idea to go back there and talk to Seth again? What if it was him, and he was just…luring you over there to kill you?”
I let out a laugh, but it sounds fake. “Who are you, Dad?” I try and make it sound lighthearted, but it doesn’t come out that way.
Davy’s frown deepens. “I’m serious.”
I turn away from him and start rummaging through the fridge, even though I’m not really hungry. “Seth couldn’t have done it because we were together when it happened. I went to talk to him because I wanted to know what’s going on.”
“So is there something to worry about or not?”
I pull out the cheese, turn to face him. “No.”
“Are you lying to me?”
I give him my sternest angry-Fiona look. “Why are you questioning me?”
“Because I know you’re not telling me the truth!”
For a moment, I can’t speak. Davy’s almost never raised his voice to me.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask finally.
He stands up, faces me. “Oh, I don’t know, Addie. Maybe it’s that I’m living in a town where people keep getting killed and my sister is just wandering around at night like it doesn’t matter?”
I grip the counter behind me. “Davy. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“Just like nothing happened to Mom, and nothing happened to Fiona?”
“Mom left,” I say. “You’re letting your friend’s serial killer theories go to your head.”
“So what do you think happened to Thatcher, Addie?”
I hesitate. I don’t want to scare him. And I definitely don’t want him to start playing detective, either. I want him far away from all of this. “Seth said Thatcher was acting weird this past year,” I say carefully. “So maybe he did have something to do with last summer. Maybe he didn’t even hurt Fiona on purpose. Maybe he ran into her. And she fell. And he never told anyone. And the guilt got to be too much.”
Davy’s staring at me. “So—he jumped?”
“I think that makes the most sense.”
It does make the most sense.
If we hadn’t heard him yell.
“It has nothing to do with Mom,” I say. “And I really don’t think it’s a serial killer. But we don’t know for sure. So don’t go wandering around in the woods by yourself after dark, okay?”
Davy grunts. I let out a silent sigh of relief. He believes me. At least for now.
“Hey, do you want to do something tonight?” I ask abruptly. I need to get some normalcy in his life.
He tilts his head. “Do something?”
“Yeah. Just you and me. Go get some ice cream?”
He looks down at his phone. “Actually…I was thinking of seeing the movie in the park.”
I’m surprised. During the summer, the old theater does this weekly movie on a projector in the park. Fiona and I used to go, sometimes with Gen or Jeremy or Kendall in tow. I haven’t been since she stopped hanging out with me. As far as I know, Davy’s never been.
“What movie are they playing?”