This Story Might Save Your Life(68)

“She’s at Joy’s?”

Sarah nods. “She doesn’t want to leave the house unattended.”

I plunk my mug on the side table, sloshing coffee over the rim.

“Benny,” she says, as I sift through the bowl beside the door.

I check the floor, comb the drawers in the console. “Did you take my keys?”

“At least shower first.”

“Did you take my keys?”

“Benny, you’re tired, and you’re upset, and those idiots outside are going to pounce. You’re not ready for this.”

“Where are they?” We stare at each other. “Know what, never mind.” I grab the dogs’ leads. They hear the clasps clink from the other room and bound toward me, the only welcome sight I’ve had all day.

“Benny, don’t—”

I shut the door behind me. It takes only a second for the reporters to start shouting.

“What do you have to say about Xander’s death?”

“Where is Joy, Benny?”

“Do you know what happened to Joy?”

I’m trying to push past them when one voice shouts above all the others: “Is it true you’re in love with her, Benny? Is it true you and Joy are in love?”

“Mind your own business,” I tell my slimy squirrel-feeding neighbor as he points his camera for the money shot.

Someone grabs my arm and I yank it away.

“It’s me.” My sister shoves my keys into my hand. “Go.”

I make a run for my car, the dogs bounding excitedly ahead. They think this is a game and jump in happily through the driver’s side. The cameramen tail me through the neighborhood, plowing forward when I speed, bearing down on me when I slow. At Joy’s house, I slam on the brakes and scramble toward the gate, securing the latch the second the dogs and I are safely inside.

I’m halfway to the door when I spot Mallory and Carlotta at the side fence. Mallory glares as I veer toward them. My anger is a living, throbbing thing, and I’m not sure how to handle it. Mallory told so many lies. Kept so many secrets. But the grossest reality of the day is that her brother is dead.

“I’m sorry about Xander,” I say, forcing myself to make eye contact.

Mallory scoffs. “Like hell you are.”

Carlotta tightens her robe, watching as if we’re performing a sketch for her sole benefit, so I search for something nice to say, something to make this less awkward. Instead, I come out with, “You’re being ridiculous. I was offering condolences.”

“Yeah. And you sounded super sincere.”

We’re like children at the playground. I have half a mind to go tell the teacher Mallory is being mean, but thankfully Carlotta steps in to save us from ourselves. “It’s so sad,” she says.

My wariness is mitigated by her soothing tone. I’m an ass. Mallory’s brother is dead, and Joy is still missing, and everything is a complete disaster. Did I drive through a swarm of reporters just to bicker with Mallory in front of a neighbor? My shoulders drop. “Is there any more news about the accident? Have they said what caused it?”

I mean it as a peace offering, neutral territory, but when Mallory’s eyes flick back to Carlotta I realize my mistake.

“The police have questioned Emil, if that’s what you’re asking,” Carlotta says.

“I wasn’t insinuating…” I say quickly. Although maybe I was. Before sticking my foot in it again, I ask Mallory if we can talk inside.

She tells me she’ll be along in a minute.

I wait in the living room, watching them through the window until their conversation is over. When Mallory returns, it’s obvious she’s been crying. She crosses her arms and glowers at me from the doorway. “Well?”

“I’m sorry about Xander.”

She lets out a bitter laugh and leaves the room.

I find her in the kitchen, filling a mug with water.

“I am sorry,” I say. “For you.”

“Go on.” She sets the mug down with a slosh. “You didn’t brave the paps to tell me this. So go ahead and say it. Whatever you’re here to say.”

I stare her straight in the eye. “I know you were spying on Joy.”

She crosses her arms. “You have it all wrong.”

“I read the memoir, Mallory. It’s all there in black and white. You were spying on her. Reporting back to Xander like some fucking toady. Did you not once wonder why he asked you to do that?”

“He told me he was worried about her.”

“And that made it okay?”

Her palms shoot up. “I was afraid things had gotten out of hand.”

“Out of hand? Out of hand? Listen, I know you have a weird relationship with Xander. I get that he took care of you when you were a sick kid. I get that you’re loyal to him—”

“Did Quinn tell you that? What else did she say?”

Something has shifted. “What do you think she said?”

She shakes her head. “He was a good brother to me. I don’t care what Quinn thinks.”

“Oh, I’m sure he was a great brother.” My words drip with sarcasm. “But even with your blinders on, you must have known what he was doing to Joy.”

“I told you, I was afraid things had gotten out of hand.”