Juniper’s mouth had turned into a desert. She lurched for her wine and took a big swig. It didn’t help.
“He didn’t tell you about his connection to the murders?” India said.
Juniper shook her head.
“Have you spoken to him?”
“Yes.”
India sucked her teeth for a second. “You need to know he’s on a witch hunt. Whoever killed Cal and Beth Murphy also ruined his life. He wants to pin this on somebody once and for all.”
“Jonathan?”
India lifted one slender shoulder. “Would be a whole lot easier than convincing all of Jericho that someone in the Tate family was behind it. Do you know how many people they employ? How many donations they’ve made to keep this town afloat? Without irrefutable proof, the Tates are untouchable.”
So all Juniper had to do was rewind the clock and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone in her former lover’s family was a cold-blooded killer.
“I can’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something. Like there’s a giant piece of the puzzle we’ve overlooked. What else happened that summer, Juniper?”
Something nibbled at the back of Juniper’s mind, but she pushed a strand of hair behind her ears and ignored it. “Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Juniper said, standing. “I really appreciate it.”
“I hope I haven’t chased you out.” India rose too, her pretty brow wrinkled in concern. “There’s so much more I’d like to talk about…”
“Another time,” Juniper assured her. “I have something I need to take care of.”
“Sounds ominous.” India followed her to the entryway and leaned against the wall while she watched Juniper slip on her shoes and grab her coat. “But then again, I see the world through a bit of a bleak lens.”
Juniper coughed out a stale laugh. “You certainly do,” she said. “Somehow, it suits you.”
India waited until Juniper had slid behind the steering wheel in Barry’s car, then clicked off the porch light and disappeared. Juniper couldn’t help but think that in another life she’d love India—her quirky interests, the mismatch of her charming exterior and dark inner life.
She turned the ignition in her borrowed car, then took out her phone and tapped a message.
We need to talk.
The three dots of an incoming message appeared and disappeared. After a full minute, Everett finally responded:
About what?
Juniper ignored the question.
I’m coming over.
CHAPTER 22
THAT NIGHT
I might be too late already, but that’s a chance I’m willing to take. Jericho’s shoestring police force and volunteer fire department are busy at the fairgrounds setting off the fireworks, so I careen through town with no regard for posted speed limits. Everyone knows that the annual fireworks show is the darling pet project of Jericho’s finest, and that for half an hour every Fourth of July the town is essentially defenseless. Not that we really need protecting. I think the worst crime that’s happened here in the last twenty years was when Wyatt Tate lifted a couple of stereos from people’s unlocked cars and sold them on eBay. Now it’s a story that’s relayed with a chuckle and a shrug, as if to say, Boys will be boys.
I’d love to believe that we’re still as innocent, but I don’t buy it for a second. My heart knocks painfully in my chest as I reach nearly seventy on the country roads, but I know that Dalton and Jonathan got a head start, and God only knows where Wyatt and Sullivan are. But I can’t go there, I just can’t. I push all thoughts of Sullivan out of my mind as I make the final turn down County Road 21 and accelerate toward the Murphys’ acreage.
I have no idea what I’m getting into, but as helter-skelter as this plan is, I do have the common sense to realize that I’d better take it slow. So instead of turning onto Cal and Beth’s property, I drive right past and pull into the lane that leads to Jericho Lake. It’s deserted, of course, because I’d dare to bet that the entire population of our small town is at the fireworks show—or at least somewhere they can watch it.
With a spray of gravel and a squeal of tires, I whip into a makeshift parking spot near the lake. It isn’t until the car is off and I’m hurrying along the path that Jonathan and I have worn down over the years that I realize just how dark it is. And how scared I am.
There’s no moon tonight, or maybe there is, but it’s hidden behind a wall of high, dark clouds. Although I can’t see the fireworks out here, every once in a while there’s a glow on the horizon, and for just a heartbeat the long, dark tendrils of withering fire etch themselves onto the face of the sky. It’s apocalyptic. It looks as if bombs are being dropped on my hometown, and I’m the lone survivor running through the wilderness.