“Jeeze, Lainey. You’d
think I’d asked you to steal their first-born—” She paused, her cheeks
flushing. “That's not what I meant.”
I winced and whispered
back, “I know. I just want to leave.”
“Okay, time for some ass
hauling. You do as I say and don't look back.” She listened at the edge of the
door for a moment before stepping back into the hallway. Her feet moved fast and
silently as she hurried down the hall to the servants’ stairwell.
Like some kind of hound,
she paused and lifted her head to the air, maybe convinced she heard better
this way. She waited a moment before taking the stairs.
I lumbered behind her,
making far more noise than she did. She wasn't graceful unless she was
sneaking.
We slipped down into the
basement, passed the laundry, and went out the door we had come in. I breathed
the fresh salty air like a prisoner who had finally finished her time and was
free again. It looked more like gasping than breathing, but I didn't care. I
was free.
I followed her along the
pool house to the side yard. We avoided the woods and ran for the front of the
house, leaving by the driveway. It was ballsy and stupid, but the woods were
out of the question. Neither of us wanted to be back there.
When we got to the car I
sighed, taking my first real lungful of air. “Oh my God, I don't know how you
do it.” My legs were jelly and my heart was racing.
“It feels awesome. I feel
so alive.”
“Not me.” I shook my
head. “I feel dirty.” It was true, I felt like I needed a shower.
“You are such a pansy.”
She cocked an eyebrow as she climbed into the car.
I took several deep
breaths before I got into the car too. “Maybe but at least I won’t do five to
ten for trespassing.”
“He wasn't supposed to be
home. No one ever is. I didn't know he would be showing the toy room.” She
rolled her eyes and drove back to the school where my car was waiting for me.
“It’s weird that the
women’s club called Friday to get those toys out today. And you and I had
planned on being there today, at the same time. It’s a bit of a coincidence. I
wonder who the woman was who suggested they get the toys.”
Lindsey gave me a look. “There’s nothing
coincidental about it. There’s a reason it’s happening today. We just don't see
the reason. Maybe the killer thought his notes would be found before you and I
got there to hide them or destroy them. Maybe the killer doesn't know that you
and Vince went to Rachel’s house already and took the notes to keep as
evidence.”
“Maybe.” The whole thing
was alarming. “Either way, we need to find out about Vincent’s mom.”
“Before we tell Vince,”
she added, giving me a worried look. “He doesn't like to talk about her much.
So I’d rather have the information before I start him on a quest to accuse her
of murder.”
“Agreed. But where do we
go from here?”
“Straight to the source.
I say we go pay Mrs. Henning and Rachel’s mom a visit, maybe bring them some
nice chocolates or something. Flowers for their rooms.”
I winced. “It’s not a
hotel. It’s a mental institute. Just ‘cause we visit someone doesn’t mean we’ll
be given information.”
“Then we need to be super
convincing.” She had that smile again, the one that told me she had a plan, an
evil one.
Silver Hills
Silver Hills was in New
Canaan, and it was the place all wealthy people ended up at one point or
another.
Presidents, actresses, children of famous
people—everyone.
I knew I would likely cross the threshold of
Silver Hills at least once in my life. I had hoped it would be more graceful
and under better circumstances than someone’s husband being murdered.
I carried the flowers and
Lindsey carried the chocolates from Munson’s. She smiled and looked like we
were meant to be there, something she had lectured me on for the entire car
ride.
But I didn't belong
there. I didn't smile and fit in. I was stressed. I was even sweating, thinking
about getting caught for being in the hospital under false pretenses. I racked
my brain to try to recall if that was an offence of any sort.
The large country-club
look to the hospital, along with the staff’s ability to actually keep a secret,
made this place the crème de la crème of mental wards.
“Is that the guy from
that movie with the aliens?” Lindsey leaned in.
I narrowed my gaze and
nodded. “Yeah. I read that he was fighting some addictions. Maybe
prescriptions.”
“He’s hot.” She led me
down the hall, away from him.
“He’s all right. I don't
like dudes with addictions.”
We walked to the end of
the hall. Lindsey led the way across the floor of the main house. “She’ll
probably be in the women’s house. It’s more private.”
We left through the
living room, strolled out past the chapel, and headed to the smaller building
where women transitioned out of the facility. It was also the spot women went
to when they were only at the hospital for a small reprieve.
We hurried across the
grass to the transition house, leaving behind the stately mansion that was the
main house.
Lindsey climbed the
stairs effortlessly, moving too easily there. She was too comfortable doing
dishonest things. It was where we didn't match.
The great room we walked
into had three women: Mrs. Henning, Mrs. Swanson, and a lady with large black
sunglasses and white hair.
Mrs. Henning saw us
first. Her cheeks flushed, and she adjusted her sweater like she was
uncomfortable with us seeing her.
“Hello, ladies.” Lindsey
waved and strolled over, acting a bit forward for what these brave women had
endured. “We thought we would stop in and see if there was anything you
needed.” Lindsey smiled and sat before being invited to.
I waited. My mom would
beat me if she saw that behavior.
“Hello, girls.” Mrs.
Henning gave us her best smile, but the toll of the past few weeks had been
paid in youthfulness from her face. She looked exhausted and weak. Her dark
hair was frazzled and her skin blotchy. There was something about her face that
didn’t seem right, like her skin was looser on her body.
Mrs. Swanson never lifted
her face to ours. She didn't acknowledge us at all. She stared out the window
at the beautiful fall scenery beyond the gardens and lawns.
She blinked so slowly I
couldn’t stop myself from watching the slow motion event occurring.
“How have you been?”
Lindsey asked Mrs. Henning.
“I think we have both
felt better.” She scowled, not rudely at Lindsey but in a pained manner.
I offered a soft smile,
hoping it would show her the depth of my sympathy.
“We brought you
chocolates.” Lindsey offered them to Mrs. Henning but Mrs. Swanson moved
quickly, taking the box and tearing the lid off. She started shoving chocolates
into her mouth, barely chewing and not really swallowing as the brown spit
started to slither down her lips and chin.
I jumped, gasping.
Lindsey froze.
And poor Mrs. Swanson
stuffed her cheeks full as Mrs. Henning jumped up and grabbed the box. “Maybe
you girls should go.” She put the chocolates on the table and grabbed the
garbage bin, holding it up so Rachel’s mom could spit the lump of chocolate
mess out. “It’s all right,” she soothed and stroked her head. “It’s okay.”
Lindsey scanned the room
but didn't get up. “This place is pretty nice.”
I tightened inside as she
started to edge her way to the question she wanted to ask. But Mrs. Henning
gave her a look. “You really should go, Lindsey. Thank you for stopping by.”
She turned back to Rachel’s mom, still trying to lull her.
I reached forward,
grabbing at Lindsey’s arm. “We should go. It was lovely seeing you, Mrs. Henning.
Mrs. Swanson.”
“Thanks, girls.
Hopefully, we’ll be in better spirits next time you stop by.”
The nurses came into the
room, giving us curious looks as Lindsey got up. We stood and watched them get
Mrs. Swanson up and help her down the hall.
In that moment I believed
Vincent’s mother might have been the killer. If this was how she was when she
was here, what better revenge?
“We need those records,”
Lindsey muttered as we walked to the car.
“Maybe, but we’re never
going to get medical records from here. This is a hospital, not our high school
where Sierra distracts the teacher so you can sneak into the office.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I bet
Vincent’s dad has a record of the stay. I bet he used it so his ex-wife
couldn’t have Vincent.”
“Linds.” My insides
tightened again. “Seriously? No. We also can’t just go to his dad’s house and
snoop for—”
“You can stay home if you
have to, but I’m going.”
I leaned against the car
and squeezed my eyes shut. “I don't think my dad has a key.”
“We don't need one. The
door to his office is always unlocked and the staff will let me in. He has
crazy locks on everything else. He doesn't need them on the office door.” She
got in and started the car, looking like there was more to the plot she was
brewing than she’d stated.
“I think we should ask
Lori. I know you don't like her, but I bet she knows.”
She nodded. “If the safe
doesn't open, fine.”
I watched out the window
as she drove up the colorful drive back to the main road. I didn't know how to
convince her this was a bad plan, when Vincent’s mom might very well be
stalking us.
My brain whispered things
like
if Rachel’s parents had committed
Vincent’s mom, where was his dad in all of this?
And that must have made
her angry, her friends locking her up and her husband not defending her.
But Rachel’s parents
weren’t the only guilty ones, and they also weren’t the only ones suffering.
We all were.
But
why?
Rachel had always wanted
Vincent for herself, deep down. Which in Rachel’s weird mind meant that she
needed to torment him, as if she were flirting. She was the first target. Could
that also be the reason, or was it solely that her mother committed Vincent’s
to Silver Hills?
And then there was Ashton
who was the quarterback, the job Vincent had originally tried out for when we
were in fourth grade. Plus, he dated Rachel and never stopped her from being
such a miserable bitch to everyone. Was that why he got a letter and was framed
for blackmailing everyone?
Sage was the next target,
the one threatened in the letter to Ashton. She had dated Vincent but had never
loved him, not properly. She’d cheated on him constantly. She was miserable.
Andrew’s dad must have
fit in there
somehow,
having done something that
didn't bode well in Vincent’s mom’s mind.
I had been a target for
challenging her and talking back in the chat when she was taunting us with
Rachel’s phone. She had scorched REAL SOON on my lawn when I mocked her
mistakenly saying real son. But maybe there was more. Maybe my parents had done
things to her too. I had no way of knowing that. They never spoke of their
friendships.
Lindsey might have been a
target because she was Vincent’s girlfriend. Maybe Vincent’s mom didn't agree
with the match. Or again, Lindsey’s mom and dad might have done something to
Vincent’s.
One thing I was sure of
was that our parents had an abundance of skeletons in their closets. We all
knew that.
This could very well be
their poor choices coming back to haunt us.
I daydreamed until we
pulled up to Vincent’s house. Shock filled me when he walked out the front door,
giving Lindsey a look. She swallowed hard, even through the smile she was
faking. “He came home early from school.”
“Great.” I sighed.
He walked to her door and
opened it for her, almost laughing. “Let me guess, wherever you have been has
landed you back at my house?”
I bit my lip as Lindsey
nodded. “We need to see something inside your dad’s vault.”
“No. I’ve tried. I don't
know the code and without it the key is useless.”
“I need this, Vince. We
have a lead. We have to try again.”
His eyes narrowed. “A
lead that led you here?”
“Just for information.
You and your dad are not part of that lead.” She lied, her voice rising a
little.
He rolled his eyes and
gave me a look. “Spill it, Lain.”
“Your mom.”
The humor dropped from
his face. “What?”
“Your mom. We just need
to check one of the details about a place she stayed for a time. She might have
some connections to Rachel’s parents that we hadn’t thought of.” I wasn't
lying. It was the truth without telling the truth.”
He paused and thought
before nodding. “I’ll see if I can find something in his computer about my mom.
But I still can’t get into the vault.”
“Her medical records if
you have them,” I added.
“Medical records?” He
sounded worried.
“In case she came into
contact with someone we are looking into.”
“Who is it?” He cocked an
eyebrow as his jaw set like he was clenching it.
“A lady who stayed at
Silver Hills once.”
His face lightened again.
“Oh, my mom never went there.” He almost smiled, but his lips didn't turn up
all the way. They stopped short and he gave Lindsey a look.
She pulled her door from
his hand and shook her head. “It’s probably nothing. I have to drive Lain back
to her car. I completely forgot she left it at school. See ya in a bit.” She
made a kissy face and put the car in reverse, skidding out of his driveway and
down the road.
“You okay?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“I can’t do this to him. I can’t tell him. It’ll break his heart. We have to
find another way.” She sped back to school to drop me at my car.
I sighed, relieved that
she had come to her senses.
Or so I’d thought.