Page 73 of No Place Left to Hide

“Why?”

I can picture his irritated face so clearly that I close my eyes against the imagined version of his disappointment. “I threw a party to celebrate the new school year.”

His silence is brutal. Then finally, “Tell me everything, right this second.”

I’m not sure exactly what I say to him. Something about Claire ruining the party. Her punching me. The boat. The threats. Truth or Shot. Something about the water. I’m pretty sure it’s all out of order. I panic-vomit pieces of the story at him as they come to mind. The only thing I clearly hear myself say aloud is “I hit the sandbar, she went under the water, and…”

He waits, fully silent for the rest, but I can’t bring myself to admit the full truth out loud. So instead, I say, “She didn’t come back up.”

He takes a slow, measured breath. “You were driving?”

“Yes.”

“And drinking?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking Christ, Brooke.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken the boat out. Now she’s dead, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t call the cops—”

“Stop. Stop talking right now.” I hear a door close on his end, and then, “Was anyone else on the boat? How far was it from shore? From the house?”

“Jena was on board, but she was passed out in the back. We were almost halfway across the lake and a ways from the shore.”

“What’sa ways?”

“I don’t know. Like forty, fifty feet.”

Another pause. The silence is epically loud. Is he writing this down?

“Was anyone still at the house?” he asks.

“No. Dylan left with Felix, and then it was just Claire, Jena, and me. Jena’s still on the boat. She hit her head when I crashed.”

“Okay, here’s how this is going to go. From this moment on, you’ll never speak about what happened tonight. Ever again. If the truthcomes to light, it will ruin our entire family. I have enough connections in this county to make this go away, but only if you do exactly as I tell you. We have to make it an easy story for the police, which means no mistakes. Do you understand?”

I nod, then remember he can’t see me. “Yes, sir.”

“This is what happened: You threw a small get-together with a few friends, and Claire showed up drunk. So you ended the party and sent everyone home. Claire came back to apologize. You two made up and you drove home soon after, thinking everyone else had left. Jena and Claire must have doubled back to the house and thought a midnight boat ride sounded fun until Claire crashed. It’s unfortunate that their reckless decision cost Claire her life, but it was an accident. And one that we as a family had no part in. You did not drive that boat. You weren’t even at the house when it crashed. You were home with me. Got it?”

The new story solidifies by the second. Dylan was there when Claire came back to “apologize.” Who’s to say that didn’t actually happen after he left with Felix? That we didn’t part amicably? Maybe Claire apologized to Jena too. Maybe they thought it would be fun to sleep out on the boat and came back to steal the keys. A little harmless fun that went horribly wrong.

There’s only one hiccup.

“Someone’s bound to tell the police about our fight at the party,” I say. “There were a ton of people here, and I’m going to have at least one black eye by the morning. Will anyone really believe that I left the house and the girl who attacked me just happened to die that same night and I had nothing to do with it?”

“I promise you, when I tell the chief of police that you were home with me, he will believe it. A Goodwin’s word is basically law in this county. That’s not a concern. And there won’t be any way to tell exactlywhen she went in the water anyway, especially if it takes a few days to find the body, and you’re going to make damn sure it looked like she was alive and well long after you left the house.”

“How do I dothat?”

“You need to make an obnoxious amount of phone calls from this number. Dial me a few more times. Call a bunch of her contacts. Call random people. Make it look like she went on a drunken calling spree so the police don’t think twice about this call to me. Donotcall yourself from her line. That’ll ping your location at the lake house. In fact, go turn off your phone until you get home. Do it now.”

I quickly walk to my phone and hold down the power button until the screen goes dark.

He keeps going. “When you’re done making calls, wipe your prints off her phone and toss it in the water. Then take the trash and any evidence of underage drinking in that house and stash it in your car. You’re going to drive it at least ten miles from the house and stick it in a dumpster at one of the campgrounds on the other side of the lake.”

I mentally pinpoint the one I’m going to stop at. It’s right by the road, and surrounded by trees. I put Claire’s phone on speaker and start pacing the length of the kitchen, envisioning my to-do list. I can’t fuck this up.

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