Remember Me (28 page)

“It's just a guy from school, Mrs. Ellery,” I say, interrupting her tirade. “He's just here to pick up a homework assignment. He'll be gone in a few minutes.”

Jason pops into the kitchen again and leans against the oven to listen. Then he checks his phone . . . and starts to whistle, and my heart crams into my throat. He looks at me and I straighten, gripping the phone. Still whistling that long, low tune that makes me remember the taste of blood and mud, Jason begins to pace again, circling the kitchen—circling
me
.

He's not just looking around. He knows.

“Wicket, are you listening to me?” Mrs. Ellery is getting screechy.

“Oh, I'm listening.” Golden afternoon light slants across the kitchen, catching on the cereal bowl I left in the sink.

The paring knife Bren left there to dry.

As Jason watches, I switch the cell to my other ear, pretend I'm fiddling with a strand of hair. Then I slide my hand into the sink, curling my fingers around the knife's plastic handle.

Just having it makes me feel better, but now what do I do? Wave it around? Not likely.

I feed the handle up my sweatshirt sleeve, leaving the tip of the knife pointing toward my fingertips. If he jumps at me, I can stiffen my arm and the knife will drop into my hand.

In theory.

In practice, I might cut off my fingers. Well . . . it's better than nothing.

“Homework or not,” Mrs. Ellery continues, “I don't think your mother wanted you to have guests while she was gone.”

“You're right.” I have to force the words through gritted teeth. “Maybe you should come over. You can wait with me until he's gone.”

Jason's eyes narrow.

“I'm already here,” Mrs. Ellery snaps, and starts pounding on the front door. Still watching Jason, I slide past him and hustle down the hallway. I barely have the door open before Mrs. Ellery shoves her way inside.

“Honestly, Wicket, I don't understand why you have to be such an obstinate girl,” she says, glaring at me. “My children weren't half the trouble you and your sister are to poor Brenda.”

I retreat a step to give Mrs. Ellery room, but she's already swishing toward the kitchen, head swiveling from side to side as she checks the rooms to the left and right of the hall.

“Where is he?” she demands.

“He's—” We both push into the kitchen, look around.

No one's there. Jason's gone.

42

Mrs. Ellery searches the house, paying extra-special attention to the bedrooms. In the interest of trying to look like a Good Girl, I follow her, trying not to laugh when she bends down to check under the beds. Repeatedly. Someone's been watching Dr. Phil talk about teenage sex parties again.

I'm tempted to tell her that, when engaging in wild orgies, we hide our partners in closets, but Jason actually could be, so I help Mrs. Ellery look. Once we're both satisfied the house is empty, Mrs. Ellery makes me call Bren while she stands and watches. Unsurprisingly, I get voice mail. I wait for the beep and leave a message, making sure to detail that yes, I had a guest stop by and oh-by-the-way he needed a homework assignment.

Mrs. Ellery smirks like she's caught me in something big. She has no idea that Bren's going to be thrilled that I'm actually making friends after the Mini incident and the thrill will mix with the anger and that will leave . . . I don't know. I highly doubt it's going to get me thrown into convent school like Mrs. Ellery is hoping.

The older woman bangs out of the house and I lock the door behind her, setting the alarm even though it takes me two tries. My hands won't stop shaking. I drop the knife into the sink and dial Carson. He doesn't answer and I don't leave a message, but, sure enough, a few minutes later, he calls me back.

“What?” Carson snaps.

“Are you even
using
that tracking app I put on Baines?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“Because Baines was just here and his tattoo matches the one I showed you in the pictures.
He's
holding up Lell's head, not Kyle.”

“Are you sure about this?”

I rub one clammy hand through my hair. “Definitely. I saw it. He knows I saw it.”

“Good. We can use that.”

“There is no
we
, Carson. He was here to kill me.” That may not be exactly true, but it feels true and saying it out loud makes tears cram the corners of my eyes. “He must have known all along. He recognized me in the woods. He saw me at the party. This isn't about your glorious career anymore. People are getting killed.”

“Have a little patience, Wick. This can lead us to something even better. There has to be more to what's going on, and if we play it right, Bay could end up sharing a cell with your dad.”

“And more people could end up dead.”

On the other end, someone says something to Carson. “I'll call you later,” he tells me.

Only he doesn't and I spend the next hour pacing through the house, trying—and failing—to get a handle on what I know.

One. Kyle's the favored choice for being the murderer. Lell was his girlfriend. He had rage issues. He was paranoid.

Two. Jason could be the killer too, right? He was in the pictures. He was there. But why would he kill Lell? To prove something to my dad? To the other dealers? If he's sending a message, it feels like he's using the wrong people.

Which brings me to Three: Remember me? That's a message too . . . but for what? Is it a message from Kyle to the people who wanted to put him away? Or is it a message from Jason, a command to remember how powerful he's become? I have no idea. I don't know what to think about any of this.

I end up in my bedroom again, watching the security camera feed of the front yard. It's empty and that's good. My stomach stays knotted though, and no matter how long I glare at my computer screen, waiting for inspiration to hit, it doesn't.

I need something to take my mind off everything . . . except then I think of my mom. I could rewatch some of the interviews. I haven't touched them since finding out she was murdered. There really didn't seem like much point anymore.

I don't know what I'm supposed to be getting from watching them anyway. I seriously doubt they're supposed to provide distraction. I'd be better off sticking needles under my fingernails. All they do is upset me and they shouldn't—
at all
. They do though and I have to realize yet again that I'm not over what happened. No matter how much I want to be.

Norcut and Bren think I need more time to heal. Such bullshit. Yeah, time heals all wounds, but it leaves a scar and that becomes your pain's new face.

I'm sick of it . . . and I can't leave it alone.

I leave the security feed still running on one monitor and open the DVD file listing on my other screen, selecting the last interview. My mom appears and I hit play, tucking both knees under my chin to watch.

It's the usual back-and-forth until someone says, “I'm tired of your shit. Give me something useful.”

I sit up a little. This is a new voice. Hard. Male.

Bay's.

The judge sounds like she's the bug and he's the boot, but my mom smiles. “You don't like my stories.”

“Not particularly. Tell me what you know.”

She shifts in her chair. “I don't know anything. That's what I keep telling you.”

“Bullshit.”

My mom looks at him, shrugs. For a heartbeat, she's staring at something no one else can see, then her eyes refocus. “I love him and I hate it. How about that for what I know? Here's the deal with love: You can't control if you get love, but you can control if you give it.”

I like that. I've heard the quote before, just never wrapped in her voice and, somehow, that makes it even better. I like how she said it, that she carried the words around, which says more about her than it does about whoever she's quoting.

Then I hear the downstairs door open and both my feet hit the floor. I stop the video and, barely able to breathe, I hover, hoping hoping hoping that I'm hearing things.

The alarm starts to beep.

I run to the top of the stairs and see shadows moving in the foyer below, drawing closer. For a terrible moment, I think I'm about to be finished, and then I realize it's worse.

Because Lily just came home.

And she's covered in blood.

43

This is my fault. Mine. Joe didn't decide to send someone after me. He sent someone after Lily. That's how this stuff works, but I still want to break something, scream. I take care of my sister instead.

There's a lot of blood, but the cut is shallow, skimming across her forehead before veering into her hairline. I don't think it will even need stitches, but Lily's still shaken.

So am I.

I dab a wet washcloth against my sister's skin. “Head wounds are always so dramatic.”

“No kidding,” Mina adds, and I cut a quick glance in the other girl's direction, gauging her reaction. Lily's little friend is looking a bit green around the edges and some of my sister's blood is smeared across her cheek.

“Here,” I say, offering her a clean towel. Mina dabs at her face, eyes still pinned to Lily. “Anyone see you guys?” I ask.

Both girls shake their heads. Well, that's helpful—less people to explain the injury to—but I'll still need an excuse for Mrs. Harrison and Bren.

Like she's reading my mind, Lily pats my hand. She's trying for reassuring even though both our hands are cold. “'Sokay, Wick. I'll tell Bren I didn't pick my feet up.” Her eyes meet mine and I know that's my cue to laugh. Too bad I can't even bring myself to smile.

I grab the Neosporin instead. “You can't go back to the Harrisons' in those clothes. Both of you need to clean up.”

Lily nods. “Mina, you can borrow some of my clothes. We'll wash your stuff here.”

“Won't my mom know?”

“Not if you don't tell her.”

The other girl's mouth wads up as she considers what my sister's telling her. “What if my mom doesn't recognize the clothes and gets suspicious?”

“Tell her you borrowed them from me, okay?”

Mina nods. “Yeah. Okay.” She heads upstairs, leaving Lily and me to stare at each other. That was nicely done. I don't know whether to be proud of my sister or worry that she's turning into me.

“So tell me what really happened,” I say.

Lily holds up one finger, waiting for Mina's footsteps to cross the upstairs hallway. There's something about the way my sister's holding her mouth tight that just kills me. She looks so much like our mom it makes guilt pry into all my corners.

“I don't know what happened,” she says at last. “Not really. It was all just so fast and then—” Lily looks away from me, scrubs one hand at her eyes. “I thought this was done, Wick. I thought we were safe.”

We were until I screwed it up.
I shake my head, concentrate on working the Neosporin into her cut. Not entirely true. We've never been safe, but I've always kept it so Lily thinks we are.

“Tell me what happened,” I press.

“He came out of the woods. I didn't see him.”

I stroke her hair, making soothing noises. Peachtree City is known for its bike paths—something like ninety miles of trails through the surrounding woods and golf courses. Some paths are used more than others and some paths are more overgrown, making them ideal hiding spots. Between cheerleading practice and school, Lily's schedule can be calculated almost to the minute. It would've made finding her easy.

Lily tries to touch her cut, winces. “We were walking home and then he was there and . . . and . . .”

“Did he say anything? Do you remember what he looked like?”

“He said Joe sent him.” My sister's eyes go flat. She swallows and looks up at me. “He had me by my collar and Mina was too scared to run and when he brought the knife down . . . I kneed him. Really hard. You would have been proud.”

I smile. “I'm already proud.”

“I'll tell Mina she can't say anything. I'll say it was because of my dad and it's a secret and I'll get taken away if she tells.”

“That doesn't make any sen—”

“It will to her. She doesn't know life like we do.”

“True.”

Lily wraps both arms around me and I hold her tight, feeling her shoulder blades press through her shirt.

“I miss Mom,” she mumbles. “I miss her so much. I'm never going to get over that, am I?”

I hesitate. “No. Probably not.”

She sniffles, curling tighter against me. “Why's Joe doing this? Is it because you won't work for him anymore?”

“Yeah.” And a few other things that I should tell Lily and I don't because now she's smiling up at me like I'm a hero.

“I'm proud of you too,” she says. “I was lucky. You think if he comes after me again I'll be that lucky once more?”

No
. I kiss Lily's forehead. “You'll never have to be that lucky again, Lil. I'll make sure of it.”

Mina reappears in Lily's clothes. She's moved past worrying about whether her mom will notice she's changed and is now worrying about whether they're going to be late for dinner. I'm starting to have serious concerns about if the girl will be able to keep her mouth shut.

Judging from Lily's scrunched expression, she agrees.

“I love you,” I say, hugging my sister hard just before they leave. With the fresh clothes and cleaned cut, she looks so much less . . . horrifying. I never want to see Lily like that ever again.

“I love you too,” she says, wrapping both arms around my neck.

“C'mon, I'll drive you.”

Lily shakes her head. “Better if we walk.” She slips a glance at Mina. “Gives me more time to talk to her.”

“Talk in the car. You can't go anywhere by yourself now, Lil. It's not safe.”