Blake had serious motive. And now, I knew, Blake had real opportunity. Josh had an alibi. A real, solid, alibi. Blake had none.
And now that he knew there were people who were aware he’d been on campus that night, he had disappeared. No one had taken him. He had fled. That much was now perfectly clear to me. These were not the actions of an innocent guy. He knew he was close to being caught and he’d gone on the run.
Blake had killed Thomas. Blake Pearson had murdered his own brother. And he’d been right in front of me just two days ago. He’d talked to me like I was sludge. I had let him go.
“You have to go to the police,” I said quietly. “You have to.”
“My life will be over,” she said through her tears.
“No. No. I know one of the detectives,” I told her. “He’s a really good guy. Maybe you can talk to him, make some kind of deal to . . . I don’t know . . . keep your name a secret or something. There must be some way to work it out.”
She lifted her head. Her face was soaked, her eyes blurry and red. “But what if there’s not? Without Blake, without my husband, without my job . . . I’ll have nothing.”
I got back to my knees and slid forward. I placed my hand on hers, just as Constance had so often done for me.
“I’m not saying he’s guilty, Cara,” I said. It was difficult, but I said it. “He may not be. There may be a perfectly good explanation for all of this. But we’ll never find out unless you do the right thing.”
She nodded and sniffled again, looking down.
“It’s all gonna be okay,” I told her, wishing I actually felt it.
“I’m sorry about Josh,” she said to her hands. “He really is a good kid.”
“You’re the only one who can help him,” I said.
“I know.” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. Then again, more firmly this time, “I know.”
Thirty-four hours. That was how much time had passed since Cara Lewis-Hanneman had promised me she would go to the police. Thirty-four hours of waiting for the call. Of praying to hear Josh’s voice again. Of aching with every inch of my body to tell someone what I knew. To clear his name.
But I didn’t want to jinx it. More than anything, I wanted to see Josh again. And for some reason I felt that if I so much as uttered his name, Ms. Lewis-Hanneman would chicken out. She would vanish as well, and Josh’s life would be over.
“Reed, will you please stop before you give me a seizure?” Noelle snapped, glaring down at my pencil.
I stopped tapping it against the library table, which I hadn’t even known I was doing. “Sorry,” I said automatically.
She blew out a huge sigh and lifted her thick brown hair over her shoulder. “Are you going to do some work, or can you only do that with Dash’s help these days?”
I stared at her.
“He helped me with one thing,” I said. “One project.”
“And how did it turn out?” she asked.
I thought of Josh. Wondered if he was still in a cell somewhere or if he’d been freed. If maybe he was hugging his mom and dad right now, just waiting for the chance to call me. I glanced at my silent phone on the table next to me.
“Well, I think,” I replied. “I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”
The front door of the library slammed and everyone jumped. Within seconds, Walt Whittaker had rocketed into view at the end of the stacks that surrounded us, his skin ruddy from the cold and his breath short with exertion. My heart stopped beating entirely. I gripped my pencil with both hands. Mrs. Lattimer stood up and Whit leaned down to whisper something to her. Her face registered shock, then reset into its grim lines. She nodded. Whit turned to go.
Look at me, Whit! Look at me! Tell me what’s going on!
But he didn’t. He didn’t so much as smile, wink, or frown in my direction. The big-boned bastard.
“All right, ladies,” Mrs. Lattimer said. “It seems that the dean has called yet another emergency assembly.”
A sizzle of intense curiosity and dread buzzed through our cozy group.
“What’s going on?” someone whispered.
“God, not again,” someone else moaned.
Noelle stood and gathered her things, as if this happened every
day. Ariana slid her arms into her coat jacket and calmly picked up her books. I tried to hide my hopeful smile. After all, this could be anything. It wasn’t necessarily what I wanted to be. Until I saw Josh with my own eyes, I was not going to allow myself to celebrate.
I felt Ariana’s eyes on me and composed my mouth in a straight line. I could see, however, that she’d caught me. That she’d noted my almost-glee. She leveled me with one of her patented stares.
“What the hell is happening now?” Kiran asked the others.
“Good question,” Ariana replied, never taking her eyes off me. “Let’s go find out.”
I hadn’t been this excited to be inside the chapel since my first day at Easton.
“What’s going on?” Constance asked me as we slid down toward the center aisle in our pews.
Josh has been cleared. He didn’t do it. I told everyone he didn’t do it and now, finally, everything is right again.
That was what I wanted to say, but instead I bit the inside of my cheek. I could not jinx this. Would not, for anything. If I said one word, Dean Marcus would walk out and tell us we were getting a new science lab, and I was not going to survive.
“I have no idea,” I told her.
“You don’t think there’s been another murder, do you?” Diana Waters asked, pale as her crisp white shirt.
“I’m starting to feel like we go to Hogwarts,” Lorna Gross grumbled.
“Oh, grow up, Lorna,” Missy Thurber snapped. “You need new references.”
I forced myself to face forward and clutched the low armrest at the end of the pew.
In ten minutes this would be over. In ten minutes we’d all know what this was all about.
The back door of the chapel finally closed and all the murmuring in the room came to an abrupt stop. Constance pulled her coat closer around her body and I wondered if it was chilly in the chapel. I felt as if my bones were portable heating rods, emanating warmth from the inside out.
Dean Marcus stepped up to the podium. For once there were no candles lit in the room, so the only light came from the weak fluorescents set high in the pointed ceiling. The effect on the dean was freakish. He looked like a corpse just risen from his grave. If I had been one to believe in omens, this would not have been a good one.
Oh God. He looked grim. This
was
an omen. He wasn’t going to tell us Josh had been freed. He was going to tell us something awful.
And then, the door at the back of the stage area opened and Josh walked out behind the dean. My heart exploded. Seeing him was like every good thing that had ever happened to me happening again, all at once. Buying my first bike, scoring the winning goal against Lakeland last year, winning counties in lacrosse, getting into Easton. They all paled in comparison to this moment. I knew right then that I had never loved Thomas. There was no way I could have. Because nothing I had ever felt in his presence even approached what I felt at that moment.
I loved Josh. I loved Josh Hollis.
As everyone else in the chapel started talking again, gasping, questioning, hypothesizing, I imagined myself running down the aisle and throwing myself into his arms. I stared at Josh until he found me and smiled. For the first time in days, I felt free. Everything was okay. Everything was going to be fine.
Then two people walked out behind him. Two people who could only be his parents. His father, tall, with the same blond curls, but tamed and slicked to his temples. His mother, tall as well, but darker. Exotic-looking. Not at all what I would have imagined his mother to look like. They all sat in the front bench, once intended for the chapel choir. Josh’s mother took his hand and clasped it.
I turned around and looked at Noelle and Ariana. Their shock made me smile even wider. But the longer I looked at them, the more I realized they weren’t happy-shocked. They both looked as if they had swallowed something sour.
“Attention, students,” the dean began. “Silence, please.”
Somehow, everyone in the room managed to shut up. Probably because they were dying to hear what was going to happen next.
“It is my extreme pleasure to make the following announcement,” Dean Marcus said. He looked anything but extremely pleased. He looked tired and pissed and about ready to retire. “Joshua Hollis has officially been cleared of any wrongdoing in the death of Thomas Pearson.”
There was a huge roar. You’d think a gladiator had just slain a lion on the chapel floor. Happy tears filled my eyes. Constance hugged me and screamed. I laughed as everyone jumped to their
feet and applauded and hollered. Josh went bright red and hung his head sheepishly. His father clapped along with the student body.
The dean attempted to bring order. “Silence, please!” He banged the podium a few times with the heel of one hand until everyone finally sat down again. For a long moment he eyed us grimly. “While I’m sure we can all agree that this is very good news, and not a surprise to any of us—”
Except Noelle. And Ariana. And Kiran. All of them had Josh convicted and sentenced a week ago.
“We all need to stick together now more than ever,” the dean said. “I hate to remind you of this terrible fact, but this means there is still a killer out there somewhere.”
Any remaining whispers and murmurs died. Even I stopped smiling.
“So while I expect all of you to welcome Josh back with open arms, I must remind you to exercise caution on campus and off, report anything suspicious, and please, just . . . take care of one another.”
From several pews away, Josh and I stared into each other’s eyes. I was never letting him out of my sight again. Never.
Somehow, Josh and his parents ended up by the exit door, accepting congratulations and well-wishes from anyone who cared to give them on their way out. It was like a receiving line at a wedding. I had only been to one in my life, when my cousin Shelby married that slimeball Emmit, and that receiving line had ended in a fistfight between the groom and his best man, but this one was much more peaceful. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to see Josh again. Even Noelle and Ariana stopped by to say hello. Kiran, I noticed, did not. She hid in a group of freshmen who were probably too nervous to stop, and used them as camouflage to get out the door.
I hung back and waited. Waited until the very last person had left the room and only the Hollis family and the dean remained. I had no idea how Josh was going to treat me in front of his parents, so I was feeling quaky and nervous as I approached. Imagine my relieved surprise when he turned around and hugged me right off the ground.
“Oh God, it is so good to see you,” he said.
He squeezed me and out came a few tears. I wiped them quickly away as he replaced me on the ground. He smelled like Ivory soap and freshly cleaned laundry. I wanted to press my face into his chest and just breathe, but his parents were hovering. Hovering with smiles on.
“Mom, Dad, this is Reed Brennan,” Josh said, keeping one arm around my waist. “These are Susan and Alan Hollis.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, sniffling.
Mrs. Hollis smiled and shook my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Reed. Josh hasn’t stopped talking about you since maybe the second week of school.”
I looked at him, surprised, and he blushed. I hadn’t even known him the second week of school. Not really.
“I hear we owe you a debt,” his father said kindly. His hand was large and warm around mine. “You convinced that woman to come in and tell the truth.”
“Thanks,” I said, unsure how to respond.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hollis . . . Josh,” the dean said quietly. “If we could all go back to my office for a bit. There are just some details we need to iron out.”
“Of course,” Josh’s father said, his voice booming. “But I think we can let the kids have a couple of minutes alone, can’t we, David? After all, they haven’t seen each other in days.”
There was a twinkle in his eye as he said this. The dean looked like he’d rather deep-sea dive with sharks than oblige.
“Fine. Five minutes,” he said. “Then you can join us in my office, Joshua.”
“I hope we’ll see you again, soon, Reed,” Josh’s mother said, touching my arm.
“I hope so too,” I replied.
Then they were gone. The door was closed. We were alone. Josh pulled me to him, placed his hands on either side of my face, and kissed me so deeply I forgot where I was. I fell into him, clutching at the sleeves of his sweater as another happy tear slid across my cheek.
“Your father’s cool,” I said, half out of it.
Josh laughed and the sound filled the chapel. It was so good to hear his laugh. “That’s not something you want to hear after you kiss a girl.”
“You know what I mean. Giving us a chance to talk,” I said, pushing him.
“Who said anything about talking?”
Josh kissed me again. I wished we could stay like this forever. And ever and ever and ever. When he finally let me go again, I had to sit down. I dropped into the last pew and he sat next to me, nudging me down with his hip. His hand found mine and clasped it. Neither one of us wanted to stop touching each other, even for a second.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you saw Blake here that night?” I asked.
Maybe it wasn’t the most romantic thing to say, but I’d been dying to ask him that for days. Josh blew out a sigh and I knew he’d
been thinking about this a lot. Of course he had been. He’d had plenty of time to ponder the fact that if he’d said something earlier, he might never have been in jail.
“I never really thought about it,” he said. “After Thomas died, everything sort of blurred together anyway. And believe me, I never thought I was going to need an alibi.”
“Did you hear about him? About Blake?” I asked.
Josh nodded grimly. “No one’s heard anything?”
“Not that I know of. But did you know he disappeared right after Dash and I confronted him?” I asked.
“What?”
“He found out that we knew he was here that night and he vanished,” I told him. “Kind of a big coincidence, don’t you think?”