Skip walked me home afterwards, Marissa had said.
The detective nodded and jotted something down in his notebook.
So we were the last ones to see her alive? Marissa had whispered. Marissa’s father had placed a hand on her shoulder; he’d told the police there was no way they were going to talk to his teenaged daughter without him being present.
The police detective had regarded her, expressionless. “Other than the killer.”
The phone rang all the time, bringing news from friends and neighbors, and Marissa’s father carried home more information from the store’s customers. A timeline emerged: Most of the kids stayed at the bonfire, continuing the games and drinking. After he walked Marissa home, Skip had apparently gone to Matthew’s house, which seemed odd to Marissa, since he and Matthew weren’t close, and Skip had watched a movie with Matthew. Matthew’s mother verified this, saying she’d brought the boys a bowl of popcorn and cans of soda. Everyone had an alibi, and besides, no one thought one of the teenagers was a murderer.
A suspect emerged quickly: the English teacher at the high school, who’d always seemed a little creepy. Four days later, everyone in town breathed a collective sigh of relief when the teacher was arrested for Tina’s murder after he gave a full confession. The police found pictures of Tina and some of the other cheerleaders, taken surreptitiously at their practice, on his camera.
A memorial service was held for Tina, but after the tears and the high school choir’s rendition of “Amazing Grace,” it seemed as if she was quickly forgotten, as if the tide that had erased the traces of her footprints that night had also washed away memories of Tina herself. The beach bonfires resumed, though no one ever suggested playing Truth or Dare.
By August, the paralyzing fog around Marissa finally yielded to a more manageable grief. She’d barely left the house, other than to lay flowers on Tina’s grave—pink and purple bouquets, because those were Tina’s favorite colors—but now Marissa began to venture out again, and to resume working at the family store.
Skip seemed different, though. Marissa hoped he’d seek out her company; more than that, she’d counted on it. But he never did. When she bumped into him, he was both friendly and remote.
She told herself she’d imagined the spark between them. She had kissed him, not the other way around.
Then, in mid-August, Matthew came into Conner’s to buy his mother coffee beans.
Now Marissa looks down at the wedding band on her finger, then plunges her head down into the warm water. Seeing those words on the card game—Truth or Dare—brought back so many memories.
Including the one of that first kiss. The spark she’d felt for Skip had never gone away. It had merely lay dormant until Skip’s second kiss reignited it a few weeks ago.
But she loves her husband. She made a choice long ago to commit to Matthew.
Marissa’s head breaks the surface just as Matthew knocks on the door.
“Sweetie? You okay in there?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Skip just left.”
Marissa mentally wills a message to Avery: Thank you. “I’ll be down in a minute. I’m feeling better now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
AVERY
GABE’S DELI IS a Washington, D.C., institution. Nestled between a copy shop and an upscale sneaker store, it’s a hole-in-the-wall, but the food is anything but ordinary. Gabe, the owner, has reimagined classic comfort dishes—mac ’n’ cheese, meat loaf, and chicken noodle soup—with a healthy twist. The ingredients are farm fresh, organic, and wholesome.
The cashier by the front door, who doubles as a hostess, tells me there’s a waiting list for a booth, but a few counter stools are open.
I glance around the restaurant and thank her. The counter will do just fine.
“Guess that bowl of nuts didn’t fill you up either,” I comment to Skip, who is tapping a message into his phone on the next stool over.
He looks startled, but recovers quickly. He must realize I followed him here when he left the Bishops. Maybe he even expected it on some level.
“Hey, Avery.”
I thank the waiter who slides a glass of water in front of me, and since I feel that I have to order something, I tell him I’ll have a grilled cheese.
“I guess you’ve got a few questions for me.” Skip swivels on his stool to face me.
I take measure of him. Like Marissa, Skip seems a little ragged. He still needs that haircut, and the bright overhead lighting reveals a few lines in his face that I don’t remember seeing before.