“I’m sorry you two went through that,” Alex said.
“Everett,” his mom said, her voice harder this time. “Please go feed your cat. Alex and I will stay right here, and I’ll be inside in a few minutes.”
Shadow yowled as if she’d heard her. Everett hesitated, shifting back and forth on his feet a bit. He didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to feel. But he’d confirmed for himself that this Alex Bennick couldn’t have been responsible.
“I’ll be watching the camera,” he finally said, shooting out the words as if he could lay down a line of defense for his mom.
“Understood,” Alex said.
Still, Everett watched over his shoulder as he went inside. Instead of going to feed Shadow, he walked immediately to his mom’s work computer and watched the tiny square that held miniature versions of his mom and Alex.
His head felt a little floaty now, like a balloon, and the only real thought he could hold on to was that he needed to talk to Josephine, tell her everything was fine and it wasn’t Alex. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too mad at him about today.
When his mom and Alex barely moved on the screen, Everett felt silly watching them, as if he were overreacting again. And that thought let the shame in. He should have apologized to Alex for going into his house, for lying to his uncle.
He would, he decided. He’d go back out and say he was sorry as soon as he’d fed his cat.
When he hurried to his room and opened the blinds, Shadow’s bright gold eyes were staring right at him, and he had to feel guilty about that too, because her food was two hours late now. “Sorry,” he muttered as he pushed the window up.
She hopped right in, and he let her, filling her dish and setting it on the floor. He squished down into the corner next to her so he could pet her perfect, sleek fur while she ate. The motion of it soothed him. Her purring made him feel tired. The balloon of his head was deflating now, and he suddenly wished he could curl up on his bed and sleep. Sleep through dinner and all the way until morning.
One corner of his sheet had popped off the mattress and risen up, and that was when he remembered the other horrible thing. The things he’d stolen. His mom finding them. And . . .
“No,” Everett breathed, shifting up to his knees and lunging for the mattress. He shoved his hands under it, splaying his fingers and reaching. They touched only fabric and wooden slats. He waved his arms wide and still felt nothing. Shadow bolted for the window when Everett sobbed out a strangled “No!”
He bucked up in a panic, and the mattress tilted high, slipping off the bed. Everett found his hands had been right. There was nothing there. No comics, no coins, and no brown leather notebook.
CHAPTER 29
Lily felt frozen with embarrassment once Everett left. She could see that it was a silly response. After all, Alex was dealing with a cousin suspected of murdering young women, and her ex-husband had only been a thief. Still, there would always be this surreal film clinging to her, that her life had been so completely defined by a terrible thing she hadn’t done. Would she be forced to apologize for Jones until she died?
“I am sorry,” Alex repeated. “And I assume that’s why you’re not tripping over yourself to trust the Herriman police either.”
Lily crossed her arms. “I definitely have a complicated history with the cops here. When they couldn’t get access to my ex-husband, I was the only person they could put pressure on.”
“That sounds awful.”
“It wasn’t pleasant.”
“So you understand why I don’t want to piss off the local cops. No fuss was made about these women disappearing because they were already living on the edges. Already discarded by polite society. They came from poor families, some were dropouts, some were drug users.”
He tapped a picture. It was the girl with the dog. The corner of a picnic table edged into the scene, loaded with barbecue fixings. A hand reached toward the girl, the gesture a sign of her bond with family or friends, people who missed her and probably always would.
“Marti had been arrested for shoplifting the month before. Now it could be that their lifestyles simply put them in the way of a predator. Criminologists refer to them as high-risk victims, which has always sounded a little like victim blaming to me, but it’s meant to convey that some people are more likely to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Lily couldn’t help but glance over at the rows of buildings and wonder if she was a high-risk victim. She lived alone in a business park instead of sheltering herself within a safer community. What would they say about her if something happened out here?