Page 45 of Where the Darkness Goes

I set down my slice of the pizza we grabbed for dinner on the way home. “Okay, sure.”

She mindlessly picks at a piece of pepperoni on her plate, not looking at me. “You, um, you might already know this. I’m not really sure what Will told you about back then, but the night Emily Gray died…”

So much about that night sticks in my memory, but it’s hard to tell where she’s going with this.

“Well, right after we got home, the police came by.” Her face is completely emotionless and unreadable. “Sheriff Ward, Pastor Charles, and Ed Gray, actually. They accused Mom of having something to do with what happened to Emily and Pearl. Andmaybe even Amber and Jill Allen. They ended up searching our house for some stuff that went missing from their homes.”

Her words feel about as believable as a fable or fairytale. The ghost story that comes before the flashlight flicks off and someone yells, “Boo.” It’s inconceivable. Frannie wouldn’t steal, and she certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone. Anyone who knows her can attest to that. “You’re not serious.”

“Yep, I am. They didn’t find anything, obviously, but it was really hard on her, you know? She’d been working for the Grays and Allens for years, since right after Dad died, and it was such a betrayal.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I know our problems were far from important that night and that Mr. Gray was just upset, but it really affected her, you know? And all of us, I guess. It blew over when they didn’t find anything, but she never went back to work for them. And slowly some of the other families started firing her. They’d blamed it on something else, of course, but we always knew. Pastor Charles gave her a raise and more hours at church, but without him and Mabel, we might’ve lost everything. And then…and then when Cassidy and Mrs. Cole died, Sheriff Ward came back to have them search for the necklace that they just found at Britney’s.” She drops her head forward, thinking. “I guess that’s why finding the note was so hard for me. I’ve never really shaken the feeling of being accused of something like that, even indirectly. They thought our family was bad, that we’d had something to do with something so horrible. It eats at you, you know?”

“No.” I’m up out of my seat and around the table in a second. I sit down next to her, putting a hand on hers. “No one who knew anything about your mom could ever think she was involved. That she’d ever hurt anyone. Do you hear me? Those people, whatever they did back then, it’s because they were hurting, but it’s not an excuse. They should be the ones who are ashamed, not you. Not her. Look at me.” Slowly, her eyes lift to find mine,broken and empty in a way that shatters me. I hate that I didn’t know about any of this until now. “Your mom is the best part of this place, okay? You all are.”

She gives me a patronizing look as if I’m just being nice, but I’m not. It’s true. Sometimes I think the Beckers are the only reason I survived growing up in this town.

“Well, thanks,” she says softly. “I just don’t want anyone to think she had something to do with Britney’s death. Especially Kristy. It would kill me.”

“She doesn’t.” I can’t know this, but I have to make her believe it. “Your mom and Britney were still close, even now. Kristy won’t forget that.”

When she speaks again, her voice is soft and strained. She’s trying not to cry. “I’m just so afraid someone might try to hurt her when she’s alone and helpless. If someone like Ed Graydoesstill believe she was guilty back then, right now’s the chance to get revenge when she can’t fight back.” Her voice catches. “Not to mention we still never got answers about her stroke. The doctors couldn’t say for certain if the head injury came before or after by the time Will found her. What if Ed broke into the house and attacked her?—”

“You can’t go there,” I warn.

“You weren’t there that night, Garrett. You didn’t hear the way he talked to her.”

“I don’t need to, okay? Trust me, if you start to play the ‘what if’ game, you’ll go down a rabbit hole and never come back. All we can do now is try to protect her. You told them she’s not allowed visitors except the three of us when we left. That helps.”

“In theory, sure. If they actually monitor who’s coming in.”

I sigh and smooth a hand over my mouth. I wish I had the answers right now. “It’s all going to be okay. Maybe we should talk to Sheriff Ward, though. Especially about the note and your concerns with Ed Gray. He could help us keep an eye on him.”

“No.” Her response is swift and assured. “Sheriff Ward is one of the ones who accused her back then, too. He was right there with Ed. I don’t trust him either. Part of me always thought he hoped he could find a reason to actually convict her so the pressure would be off him. People were so angry with him for not getting answers.”

“He was doing his job. I’m sure he knew your mom was innocent and just needed to appease Ed.”

She sighs, rubbing a hand over face. “Yeah, maybe.”

“There’s, um, there’s something I should tell you, too, actually.”

Her bright eyes find mine, so filled with conflicting emotion they’re unreadable. “Yeah?”

I open my mouth to tell her something, anything—the awful, awful truth—but we’re interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

TESSA — AGE 17

The lodge is just as you’d picture it—snow-capped mountains and gray skies providing a perfect backdrop to the warm amber of the wooden building. There are tall windows along the front, giving a perfect view of the inside, bustling with people in front of tall fireplaces. Outside, skiers are gathered in droves and lines in various stages of their lessons. From a distance, they’re just black dots, some zooming and others wobbling their way across the white blanket of snow.

It’s perfect—and it had better be for the amount of fundraising we had to do to make the trip happen in the first place.

The sight of the ski lift carrying people to the peak does something funny to my belly. I’ve never been a fan of heights.

Next to me, Garrett is sitting up straight, wiggling in place as we edge closer up the mountain. He tosses me a cocky look, one that he’s practically famous for, and pulls out his phone, checking the time.

He’s had to pee for the last hour, and each bump is causing him agony, though I’m enjoying myself quite a bit. At least it’s kept him occupied so he’s not…doing whatever it is he’s doing lately.

I don’t know what this is, this weird, flirty thing that’s gotten into him. I thought I understood at the lake house, but when I’d pushed him to admit what he wanted, he froze. Either that, or I seriously misread things.

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