A trail of water. Footprints leading from the pool, across the white concrete, to the gate where I stood on the sidewalk, then disappearing into the black pavement of the road.
At the pool, so close to the lake, the sounds of the night became almost deafening: the lapping of the water at the roots and rocks, the wind through the leaves of the trees, the frogs no longer in the distance but here—surrounding me in the trees around the pool deck. I slapped at my leg but felt the welt of the mosquito bite already rising.
It was probably a resident at the pool, anyway. Someone with a key, even though it was technically off hours. A midnight dip. A violation of our owners’ association rules but nothing worth reporting.
Still, I shuddered, imagining all the things that could happen at night with the rest of us oblivious, behind locked doors and closed walls. I started walking faster, planning the route, keeping to the sidewalk, with the flashlight guiding the way. I wanted to be home, to be done with this. Of course there were other people out at night. It wasn’t a crime. That had been Ruby’s defense, after all.
“Hey.” A soft voice up ahead stopped me in my tracks before I could see anyone. At first I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it under the sounds of the night. I scanned my flashlight to the side and stopped at the figure sitting on the top porch step. Chase stood up. “I was hoping to catch you,” he said.
But his porch light was off, and he was wearing sneakers and gym shorts and a dark T-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders. I wondered if he’d been watching me. Following me. From here, in the daylight, the pool was just barely in sight. He could’ve been out here all along.
“You’re sitting in the dark,” I said, as close to an accusation that I could get, even as I started moving again, passing his front door.
“I didn’t want you to avoid me,” he said, hand extended in my direction, palm up, case in point.
I stopped walking but didn’t get any closer.
“You need to be careful, Harper,” he said, walking down the steps.
I made myself stand my ground, not showing my discomfort. He wasn’t a cop anymore; I didn’t have to follow his instructions. “Or what?” I said. “People will talk?”
He frowned, suddenly another step closer. “She tried to get in my house yesterday morning. When I was out for a run. I know it.”
I shook my head, but I understood. The paranoia had taken hold of him, taken him over. “She was gone all day yesterday,” I said. “Until dinner.”
“Says who. Her?” When I didn’t respond, he continued, “Look, I left the garage open, and someone tried to jimmy the inside lock—who else could it be? She’s dangerous, Harper, and you don’t even see it. You always wanted to protect her, and sometimes I wonder why.”
The space between us had disappeared, and I was aware of his size, his anger. “You need to keep out of this,” I said, my voice low. “She could get a restraining order.” Reminding him who was at fault here. Who was really the danger.
He took a step back. “No, she can’t. I’ve never threatened her. I’ve never laid a hand on her. I’m going to be cleared. Everyone knows it. I did everything by the book. Where was the lie, Harper?”
There hadn’t been a lie. It had been the way it was handled. The lines we all knew we were walking. All in the name of self-righteousness and good intentions.
“I heard you,” I said, so he would know. “My house is right next to Tate and Javier Cora’s. You hear everything.” Through the fences and open windows, voices carrying in the night. I’d heard him talking to Javier during the investigation.
Chase looked at me closely, the only sound his breathing. “What are you talking about?” Head tilted to the side.
“You were discussing the strategy. That everyone needed to keep it simple. Don’t complicate things.” That was the one specific that stuck in my memory. Like he was telling them what pieces of evidence would help and which would not. “So tell me again, Chase, how you’re going to be cleared?”
“That’s not…” He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know what you think you heard, but you’re wrong. She was a suspect, and we worked the case. A jury found her guilty.” His gaze flicked to the side. “When we found them, she didn’t come out. You know it.” His voice had lowered, as if he were seeing that same unspeakable scene.
I squeezed my eyes shut, chasing away the image. “Ruby was sleeping. She sleeps like the dead,” I said. She’d been out, after all, until two a.m. “She said someone else was out there.”