We were all silent for a stretch, until finally Caro spoke. “He’s guilty, isn’t he? Heather was scared to talk to him that night, and at best, Frankie lied by omission earlier. We all remember what his dad is like. Frankie said himself he would have done anything to keep his dad from finding out. He has to be guilty.”
“I don’t know,” Eric said, scratching his jaw. He looked unsure for the first time all night, and for a second, I caught a glimpse of the soft boy I remembered, before his face hardened. “It doesn’t satisfy all the other evidence, but it’s worth checking out.”
“What other evidence—” Mint started, but Caro interrupted.
“We know where Frankie’s going to be tomorrow. He’s grand marshal of the Homecoming parade. There will be tons of people around. If we confront him, he can’t run.”
Coop whistled. “You want to accuse Frankie of murdering Heather in front of hundreds of people?”
“What other choice do we have?” I asked. “This could be our only opportunity to solve Heather’s murder.”
Eric eyed me. “Since when do you care about solving her murder?”
The words were a knife through my heart. But only because I knew—in the deepest, darkest part of me—that I deserved them.
I deserved so much worse.
“Since always,” I said quietly. “Since now.”
“Well”—Eric patted the pill bottle in his pocket—“whoever else cares, I’ll see you at noon tomorrow by the basketball stadium, at the start of the parade route. We’ll demand an explanation from the grand marshal.”
With that, Eric slipped back into the trees, where there wasn’t even a path, and dissolved among the shadows.
“Fucking Ghost of Christmas Past,” Mint muttered. “Back to punish us for our sins.”
***
Everyone went back to their hotels. Tomorrow we were confronting Frankie, and there was nothing left to say.
Except for me. I stood in the middle of the now-empty white tent, watching the bartenders pack bottles. The party was over. My perfect plan, ground to dust, ruined by Eric Shelby. But as I stood there, a new plan slowly formed, more ambitious than the first. If I could pull it off, I wouldn’t just be proving myself—I could settle every debt, right every wrong. Quiet the insidious whisper. Unmake the black hole.
Eric was right: for ten years, I’d lived a lie. I’d pretended I was fine, pretended I’d moved on, but the truth was, the past was still open inside me, like a half-cracked door, because it was a raw, unhealed wound.
Showing off for my classmates was only a Band-Aid. I would step inside that door. Dive into the past. I would find Heather’s killer and be healed.
“You really don’t want to go home, do you?”
I spun to find Coop.
“What are you doing here? I thought you left with Caro.”
He put a finger to his lips and walked backwards to the bar. While the bartenders’ backs were turned, Coop grabbed a bottle of whiskey and slid it under his sweater. He waved at me to follow and sauntered, as if nothing was amiss, out of the tent.
I drew a deep breath and followed.
He led me through the dark, eerie campus. I remained behind, eyes on his back, walking in silence. Halfway, I knew where we were going, so I wasn’t surprised to see the ivy-covered walls of East House rise in front of us.
He walked past it into the quad, over to our picnic table, the one beside the oak tree Heather’s parents had planted ten years ago, a memorial in her favorite place. The tree had grown to twenty feet now. Looking at it was like looking at the passage of time, made solid and tangible. The branches reached toward East House like imploring arms. It looked uncannily like a person, as if Heather herself was frozen and trapped, begging for help.
I pushed away the thought. We’d been happy here.
Coop ignored the picnic bench and sat right on the table. He twisted the cap off the stolen whiskey, took a long pull, then held it out to me.
I couldn’t help the ghost of a smile. “In the middle of the quad? Out in the open? You rebel.”
Coop didn’t smile back. “Who do you know with an addiction?”
I took the whiskey and sat down next to him. Slugged a mouthful. I had to force it down, trying not to gag. “My dad. OxyContin, at first. Then whatever he could find.”
Coop nodded, looking across the quad at East House. A slight breeze picked up a tendril of his hair and brushed it over his forehead. “All those years, you never told me.”