Forget Me (14 page)

“Sure,” I cut in, dropping any pretense of cool.

“Great. Let's go somewhere in River's End,” Evan said while I repacked my bag. “Littlefield doesn't have much.”

River's End wasn't much better, but we did have Sal's. “How about pizza?” I asked.

“Perfect.”

I followed Evan back down the expansive hallway, our footsteps echoing. We were almost to the door when a deep voice said, “Going out?”

Evan stopped midstride, his shoulders drooping. “Just one more introduction,” he whispered to me.

“It's fine,” I whispered back. I didn't mind meeting his parents. Especially since they seemed nice. This was going a lot better than it would have at my house with my parents freaking out over a dead ringer for Flynn.

We both turned around with smiles plastered on our faces, ready to do the quick meet and greet and escape to somewhere we wouldn't be interrupted.

“Dad, this is Morgan. We were just heading out for some food.”

“Oh, I won't keep you, then,” Mr. Murphy said brightly. His eyes took a quick scan of me, not in a creepy way, and then he gave one of those imperceptible nods to Evan that said,
Hey, she's pretty, good work.

But I was frozen in place, like another statue for their entryway. I opened my mouth to speak, but my mind was somewhere else, and it took a moment for my lips to catch up. I finally conjured the words, “Great to meet you, Mr. Murphy.”

After a quick and awkward exit, Evan opened the car door for me, then got in on the other side. He gave me a curious look. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” I said quickly, though I wasn't quite sure. I needed the drive to Sal's to think. I needed to figure out if this meant anything.

Because I'd seen Evan's dad before.

E
van held the door of Sal's open for me, and the little bell rang as the door closed again behind us. I was immediately blasted by that familiar pizza smell, and I breathed it in.

“So this is the famous Sal's, huh?” he asked.

“Yep,” I said. “Fancy. Consider yourself lucky I brought you here.”

“Yeah, right. I bet you take all your guys here,” he joked, but I immediately felt a small pang. I
had
brought Flynn here.

At my expression, Evan quickly said, “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—”

“It's fine,” I said, giving him a halfhearted smile, and the pinch in my chest disappeared.

Evan started moving toward the one open booth. My eyes made a quick sweep of the room to see if anyone I knew was there. And, lo and behold, Cooper and Diana were in the corner, holding hands over the table and making goo-goo eyes at each other.

Diana's face darkened when she saw me. I had no idea what her problem was. She whispered something at Cooper, and he looked over his shoulder. He flashed a smile at me, but it faltered. He did a double take at my dinner companion and shot up out of his seat.

At the sight of a stranger charging toward us, Evan stepped in front of me.

“Are you . . .” Cooper's voice trailed off as he inspected him.

“No,” I said, sidestepping Evan. “He just looks like him.”

Cooper motioned to me with his head. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” The unspoken last word was
privately.

Evan thankfully wasn't a jerk about it. “I'll grab the booth for us and put in an order,” he said.

I told Evan what I wanted and followed Cooper back toward the doorway. He rested his elbow on the top of a gum-ball machine and looked at me expectantly.

I spread my hands. “I know this seems weird.”

“I thought you'd found Flynn. I thought he was alive.”

“He's not. It's not him.”

“But this is why you suddenly wanted to do all that research about him.”

I nodded.

He narrowed his eyes at Evan in the distance. “And you're sure he's not . . .”

“I'm sure. Flynn's dead.”

Cooper shook his head and let out a low whistle. “Wow. It's uncanny.”

“I know. I'm just getting used to it myself.”

“Are you two . . .”

“No,” I answered quickly. “He's just helping me.” I glanced over my shoulder. “And you should probably head back to Diana before her head explodes.” She was sitting rigidly in the booth, arms crossed, making pouty faces because Cooper's attention had gone elsewhere for one freaking minute.

“Yeah, okay. Good seeing you.”

He hurried back to his corner booth, and I returned to Evan. “Sorry about that,” I said, sliding into the seat, my jeans catching on the cracked vinyl. Our sodas had arrived, or rather Sal had brought over two cans from the cooler. Sal didn't have glasses. You drank from a can or you went thirsty.

I cracked mine open and took a sip, closing my eyes as the cold slipped down my throat.

“Is everything okay with that guy?” Evan asked. “Is he a jealous ex-boyfriend or something?”

I nearly spit the soda out. “Um, no. He's Toni's older brother. He thought you were Flynn, so he had a minor freakout.”

“Ahh,” he said, understanding. “To be expected, I guess.”

“Yeah, just wait till you meet my parents.” The words came out before I could stop them, and now they hung in the air like the world's most awkward and ill-placed tapestry. “Not that you'll definitely meet them. Or that there's any reason to meet them.”
Shut up, Morgan.

Evan's mouth twitched. I was glad he was fighting that laugh instead of letting it out and making me feel even more embarrassed. Good effort.

“So . . . I have something to tell you,” I said, changing the subject. “I've seen your dad before.”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“Yesterday. At the falls. I was there on assignment. Someone jumped. And your dad was there, wearing a suit and looking . . . pensive.”

The lighthearted expression fell from Evan's face. “It couldn't have been him.”

“Why?”

“My dad doesn't go to the falls. Ever.”

I pursed my lips. “If it's a fear of heights, he wasn't at the top. He was at the bottom—”

“No,” Evan interrupted, “it's not that.”

I smirked. “Does he have something against beautiful views?”

“That's where his brother died,” he blurted.

“He . . . jumped?” Evan's uncle had committed suicide?

Evan took a long drag from his soda and nodded wordlessly.

I sank deeper into the booth. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” He gave a small shrug.

“Maybe that's why your dad was there. Maybe he hadn't visited since . . . your uncle . . . but felt the need to after hearing the news today . . .” I let the words trail off and Evan considered them.

“Yeah, maybe. I know he hasn't dealt with Uncle Doyle's death very well. He never wants to talk about him.”

“When did it happen?”

“Five years ago.”

Something pinged in the back of my brain. I wanted to know more. “Did your uncle have a family?”

“No.” Evan pulled a napkin from the dispenser on the table and started ripping tiny pieces from it.

“Do you know why he did it?”

He ripped one more corner off, then raised his eyes to mine. “Do you remember Stell Pharmaceuticals?”

Of course. Five years ago was when everything exploded with Stell, the plant was shut down, and everyone lost their jobs. Evan's uncle must have been another piece of Stell collateral damage. I rolled my eyes. “Say no more.”

Evan returned to the napkin, his fingers slowly rolling a ripped piece back and forth along the table. “Was your family affected?”

“Yeah,” I said. “My parents both worked there. And Toni's dad. They, obviously, all lost their jobs. And my friend Jennifer's parents owned the deli across the street from headquarters that went out of business soon after. I could go on and on. It seems like everyone in town was connected in some way.”

I heard him swallow.

“Did your uncle work there, too?” I asked, and that part of my brain started tingling again. I was only eleven when Stell went down and my memories were fuzzy, but this felt familiar.

Evan chewed on his lower lip and nodded.

“Did he lose everything?” I didn't know why I was pushing him. He was obviously uncomfortable. But there was something there, right under the surface, and I knew if I only scratched a little bit, it would be revealed.

“Morgan, I have to tell you something.”

The bell above the door rang as Diana opened it, walking out hand in hand with Cooper, who cast one last curious glance at us before the door closed behind him.

“What?” I asked, my attention refocusing on Evan.

“One large cheese pie,” Sal gruffly announced. He dropped the metal pizza pan and two paper plates in the center of the table and walked back to the counter.

Evan sucked in a breath, like he was relieved by the interruption. “We can talk about it after we eat.”

“No,” I said. “The pizza's too hot anyway.” I separated the slices to help the cooling process, then motioned to Evan to keep talking.

He squirmed in his seat, making it even more obvious that he didn't want to tell me. But now I had to know. “Evan?” I prodded.

His eyes snapped up to mine, and I flinched at the fear I saw in them. What was he scared of? What was his secret?

His gaze went distant as he began to speak. “My family is responsible for all of this unhappiness—in your family, in Toni's, in all your other friends. The small businesses that shut down. The abandoned places you visit. It's all because of us.”

Panic had started to edge his voice, so I reached across the table and laid my hand over his. “Evan, slow down. What are you talking about?”

A sort of depressed resignation settled into his normally bright eyes. “My family owned Stell.”

I pulled my hands back. “What?”

“My father was the CFO, the chief financial officer. My uncle was the CEO, the head of the company.”

I remembered now. The CEO had committed suicide. My parents didn't let me watch morbid stuff like that on the news at that age, but kids talk on the playground. He was one of the falls' many jumpers.

And Evan was his family.

Evan continued, “My dad just handled the money, but my uncle ran the business. He knew about the deaths tied to the migraine pill. He covered it up, kept producing the drug. Then when the whistleblower blew the lid off the whole thing and Stell was put out of business . . . Doyle's life was pretty much over. My dad lost his job, too, even though he did nothing wrong. He'll probably never be a CFO again, but he does independent consulting now, here and there, traveling to other firms and helping them buy out other companies or whatever. But Uncle Doyle was done. He was going to face charges. So he . . . did what he did . . . at the falls.”

That now-familiar anger I'd felt over and over again throughout the years surfaced, reddening my cheeks. The leaders of Stell had always been these nameless mythical villains in my head. People I could blame without having to see or talk to them. But now, here was Evan. His last name, Murphy, was so commonplace here in Irish Massachusetts, I never would have connected him to some CEO who died when I was in elementary school. I hadn't even remembered the guy's name. But Evan should have told me.

“Why didn't you mention this before?” I asked.

His voice was tight. “Because I didn't want you to look at me the way you're looking at me right now. The way my classmates look at me. At all of us. That's why my sister goes to boarding school. She couldn't handle it.”

That's why he was wary of bringing me home. Why he drove a cheap, unassuming car.

“So why are you telling me now?” I asked.

“Because I don't want to keep any secrets from you.” His eyes implored mine to believe him.

My insides twisted as I absorbed the information. It was unfair of me to lay anything on Evan. He was only a kid when everything happened, just like me. It wasn't his fault. And he'd clearly suffered for Stell's wrongdoings as well.

He leaned forward. “What are you thinking? Please, just tell me.”

I opened my backpack and slid Flynn's notebook out. “Now that I know this, I should share something else with you.”

Evan looked confused. “You already showed me Flynn's note.”

True. But now, I realized, the rest of it was relevant, too. “The messy notes he wrote in the rest of the book,” I began. “They were about your family's company. He seemed to be . . . researching it.”

Evan blinked rapidly in surprise. “Why?”

“That's what I plan to find out.” I hesitated. “And I guess I need to know if you're still with me.”

Evan took the notebook from my hands and wordlessly flipped through it, stopping to squint and run his fingers over certain words and names. After what seemed like forever, he handed it back to me, his jaw set rigidly, his eyes burning with determination.

Through clenched teeth, he answered, “Definitely.”

A
s far as I knew, Toni had never been interested in attending a high school baseball game in her natural-born life. But now that she was dating the first baseman, she'd suddenly been infected with a giant case of school spirit, and here we were.

On my way out to the field, I had swung by the library and photocopied the notes from Flynn's journal. Evan wanted to inspect the notebook more, but I wasn't about to part with it. So I filled my pocket with dimes and let the copy machine do its work. Then I headed to the game.

Toni was already sitting on the bleachers when I got there, cheering like one of those crazy parents who took things too seriously.

“You call that a strike?” she yelled.

I slid in next to her and gave her the side-eye.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” I returned my eyes to the field and clapped when our player got a single. But I could feel Toni's stare on the side of my head.

“You think it's happening again,” she said.

“I think what's happening again?”

“The crazy.”

“Oh.
That.
”

She crossed her arms and made a huffing sound. “Morgan. I know it's fast. But I like him.”

“I'm not saying anything, Toni. You're arguing with no one here.”

“But I know you're thinking it. You're judging me with your thoughts.”

“Then why don't your thoughts fight my thoughts and we can just do this all telepathically?”

She pushed closer to me on the bleacher. “Why don't you want to talk about it?”

“Because you already have your mind made up, and I don't want to fight. I want to watch the game. It's thrilling. Isn't this thrilling?” I pointed to the field, where absolutely nothing was happening. We had a guy on first base, but the pitcher was taking about ninety seconds between each throw. He must've been some kind of obsessive compulsive, because he did this hat-adjust-spit-kick-at-the-mound combination over and over again until he felt comfortable enough to toss the next pitch.

“Watching a goat eat grass would be more exciting,” Toni said.

I gave her a look that said
duh.
“Then why are we here?”

“Because I want to cheer him on. It makes him feel good to know I'm here. And it makes me feel good that he's glad I'm here. And it's this big feel-good circle and what's wrong with feeling good?”

I thought about Evan and how I felt when I was close to him. My heart raced, my throat dried up, my skin felt electric. And I was pushing the possibility of him—of us—away. Maybe I just wasn't ready. I didn't know. All I knew was that I wished I could be carefree like Toni and just throw my heart into it. Let myself feel what I desperately wanted to. Stop holding back.

“Nothing's wrong with feeling good,” I admitted. I smiled and bumped her shoulder with mine. “Go for it. Do your boy-crazy thing.”

Her eyes were glassy. She looked both fearful and deliriously happy at the same time—if that was possible. “And if it crashes and burns?” she asked.

I let out a little sigh. “Then I'll be here to pick up the pieces. With a giant bag of Sour Patch Kids to dull the pain.”

“I love you, Morgan.”

“I am the bestest best friend in all of best friend land.”

“Yes, you are.”

The bleachers erupted into cheers as one of our players hit a home run. I mock bowed as if they were cheering for me, and Toni nearly fell over laughing.

When the game quickly returned to boring, Toni kicked the backpack at my feet. “Why do you have that with you?”

“I had to stop at the library and copy Flynn's notebook for Evan.”

She wagged her eyebrows. “Oh,
really.
Apparently you've been holding out on me. Deets. Now.”

I filled her in on the events of last night. Sharing the journal with Evan, dinner at Sal's, and learning that Evan's family had owned Stell.

Toni took in a sharp breath. “Wow. So . . . his family ruined our lives.”

“It's not that simple. And it's not
his
fault.”

“Still. It's very
Romeo and Juliet
. You're dating the enemy.”

I groaned. “One: we're not dating. Two: he's not the enemy. He was just a kid like us when Stell went down.”

“Why do you always have to undramatize everything?” she teased.

“Why do you always have to
over
dramatize everything?” I shot back.

She snorted. “So what's your next step? Now that you and Romeo are working together.”

I took a deep breath. “I don't know. I pored over the journal myself and I can't figure out anything. It just seems like a bunch of unconnected names and dates to me. I'm hoping Evan might see something I don't.”

Toni tapped her chin for a moment. “You know who knows the most about the Stell thing?”

I shrugged. “Who?”

“Cooper.”

“How would he know?”

“He based all his college application essays on it. The company going down, the town quickly following. You know, for these essays you have to use whatever hits you've taken. Our family took one from Stell. So he figured why not turn around and use that sob story to his advantage? He did a ton of research so he'd have all the facts right before he wrote his essay.”

“Maybe I'll talk to him.” I logged that into my mental to-do list.

“Wait until Monday. Diana's home for the weekend. No one can pry him away from her.” Toni rolled her eyes as she said it.

“I know. He talked to me for thirty seconds at Sal's and I thought she was going to spontaneously combust.”

We watched the rest of the game, cheering when appropriate and gabbing the remainder of the time. I still didn't find baseball any more exciting by the end, but it was nice to just sit and chat with Toni. I missed her when we went a few days without quality time, and we'd both had so much going on lately.

River's End edged out the other team by two runs, and Toni ran into Reece's arms like he'd won the World Series.

“The team is heading to Sal's for some celebratory eats,” Reece said. “You two in?”

Toni oozed enthusiasm. “I'm in!”

I appreciated the fact that Reece had included me, even though there was clearly only one person who mattered. “I'm out, guys. I have to drop those papers off to Evan before
his
baseball game starts.”

Reece brightened. “Hey, you should go watch his game!”

“Not today.” At Toni's disappointed look, I smirked and added, “But maybe someday.”

Twenty minutes later, I was pulling into the front gates of the palace, or rather, Evan's house. I sent him a text, and he came running down the driveway in full gear—Littlefield uniform, hat, and cleats. Either I hadn't stopped to appreciate the snug fit of the sport's uniforms at the game earlier today or Evan just filled his out better. My eyes traveled down from his upper arms to his muscular thighs, all stretching the seams of the tight material.
Damn.

He came up to the driver's-side window. “Yeah, I know. I look dorky,” he said, catching my stare.

“No, um, not at all. You look . . . fine. Um, I mean, okay,” I bumbled. I opened my book bag and nearly shoved my head inside of it to cover up the blush creeping across my cheeks. I pulled out the photocopied pages and handed them out the car window. “Here it is.”

“Thanks.” He rolled the pages up and shoved them into his back pocket. “I'm sorry I can't look at it today. It's just that I missed one practice this week already, and—”

“No worries,” I cut in, wondering if that practice he'd missed was because he'd been with me. “I have a lot of homework to catch up on anyway. Just call me when you get a chance to read through it.”

“I will.” He smiled.

“And good luck at your game.”

“Thanks.” He made no motion to walk away. As if he were waiting for me to give him a reason to stay.

I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. “You're going to be late.”

That snapped him out of it. “Yeah, you're right. I'll call you!” He waved and ran up the driveway. And I totally didn't take my time leaving so I could watch him. Nope, not at all.

When I finally pulled away, my mind was dizzy with endorphins or whatever chemical makes your brain go loopy at the thought of a particular guy. I always tiptoed through life so carefully. Maybe I should just be reckless like Toni. Throw caution to the wind. What's the worst that could happen? Yeah, I could get hurt. But I'd been hurt before, and I lived through it.

I didn't notice the SUV behind me until I stopped at a light. It was so close, its front grille could have been in my trunk.

What the hell? I thought. How about giving me some breathing room?

The light turned green. I accelerated a little faster than I normally would, but the SUV kept right on top of me, only inches from my bumper. Close enough to hit me if I had to slam on the brakes. Aggravated, I pushed the pedal down farther, definitely speeding now, but at least it put a little distance between us.

I glanced in the side mirror and realized . . . it was a
black
SUV. The boxy kind—a very familiar shape.

My skin prickled, the hairs on my arms standing stiff as needles.

Just a coincidence, I told myself. A lot of people drive black SUVs. Just because I was noticing them now didn't mean they were all the same car. Plus, in movies when people are being followed, the car is always careful about it, staying a good distance behind. If this person was following me, they weren't even bothering to hide it. It was more like they
wanted
me to know. Like they wanted to scare me.

I let up on the gas and slowed back down to the speed limit. Paranoia wasn't worth a hundred-dollar speeding ticket. The SUV caught up. I squinted in my rearview mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of a face. But the windows were tinted.

I went straight through the stop sign on North Street and took a left onto Blueberry Road. The SUV followed. Blueberry was a residential road that made a giant letter “C” leading right back to North Street a half mile down. I reached the end and made a right onto North. I'd made a useless circle, but the SUV still stayed close behind.

I approached the next intersection as the light turned red. It had two lanes. I took the right one. I glanced in the rearview again and the SUV was gone. But before I could let out a breath of relief, it pulled up slowly into the left lane beside me, stopping parallel to my car.

I hit the automatic door-lock button with my elbow. But no one got out. The window didn't roll down. There was no clear threat.

I stared through my driver's-side window and saw nothing. The SUV's darkened glass was impenetrable, but I knew—
knew
—the person inside was staring back at me. I felt it in every cell of my body. Fear's icy fingers tiptoed down my spine, and some basic instinct in my DNA made my breaths come faster, my heart pump wilder.

The light turned green. I paused. The SUV didn't make a move, as if waiting for me. Home was straight, but there was no way I was leading this psychopath right to my front door. I jerked the wheel to the right and floored it, my tires screeching.

I made the turn, my back wheels fishtailing a bit, and saw the SUV following. It had taken a right turn from the left lane. There was no chance this person was lost. This was not my overactive imagination.

On Main Street now, I had to be careful. I couldn't go too fast or spend too much time with my eyes on the mirror. This was the busy center of town. Cars pulled out of street spots quickly, and people jaywalked.

My mind raced, wondering what to do. I couldn't go home, but I didn't want to lead this person to Toni's, either. If I kept driving, we'd eventually end up somewhere deserted, and who knew what would happen. I gripped the wheel so tightly, my knuckles started to ache.

Then, suddenly, the answer appeared, like a beacon in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and took a right into the small parking lot of the River's End Police Department. There were no spots left except the handicapped one in front, but I took that. Let someone come out and ticket me.
Please.

I turned and looked out my back window. The SUV had come to a complete stop in the road.

“Checkmate, jackass,” I said out loud.

The front door of the police station opened and a uniformed officer walked out. “Miss? You can't park there.”

I rolled the window down. “Sorry, Officer. I wasn't planning to stay. It's just that someone was following me.”

The cop's face hardened. “In a vehicle?”

“Yes, that black SUV.” I pointed toward the road, but of course by now the car was gone. “It went past,” I said, shaking my head.

“Because you were smart enough to pull in here,” the officer complimented me. “Was this a road-rage incident?”

“No, the car was just . . . following me.”

At that point, his expression changed. I knew he was wondering if I was just some paranoid girl.

“Did you get the plate?” he asked.

“There wasn't one on the front and he was behind me. I couldn't see the back.”

The officer exhaled loudly through his nose. “Well, you can stay here awhile until you feel safe enough to head on home. If you run into trouble again, come back.”

I wanted to ask the officer to stay with me, to stand sentinel beside my car. But he trudged back into the station. I knew he thought I was crazy. But I was sure something else was going on. I only wished I'd been paying attention from the start. Where had the SUV picked up my tail? From Evan's house? And more important, why?

After ten minutes, I felt it was safe to pull out. I didn't go straight to my house. I made crazy turns and circles to make sure the SUV hadn't been waiting for me somewhere. When I was sure I was no longer being followed, I headed home and pulled into the driveway behind my parents' cars.