Page 83 of What Lies in the Woods

“You should have told me theFBIwanted to talk to you,” Cass said. “And you talked to them without a lawyer? What were you thinking?”

“They think we lied,” I said.

“Well, you did lie. Which is why you need a lawyer. I don’t even know what the statute of limitations is on perjury. Do you?” Cass asked, bracing a hand on her hip. Her mouth pursed, anger in her eyes. Was she really just worried about me? Or was she worried about her own secrets?

“They were asking about Oscar,” I said hoarsely, and waited for her reaction.

Her jaw tightened. “What?”

“They asked if Oscar attacked me and we covered for him,” I said.

She half turned, her hand coming up in an abortive gesture. “That’s—” She turned back to me. “That’s ridiculous.” Her voice cracked.

“Is it?” I asked.

“You don’t think I would recognize my own brother?” she asked sharply. Then her expression went flat. “You think I did recognize him. You think I’m lying.”

“No. I don’t…” I didn’t know what I thought. It had seemed plausible, up until I was standing here in the room with her. Looking her in the eyes.

“Fuck you, Shaw,” she ground out. “I’m not the liar, remember? Half the things that come out of your mouth are lies.”

“That’s not true.” Not anymore.

“I left my homework in my locker. I don’t know who spray-painted Chief Miller’s car. This necklace was a present,” she quoted at me. “I saw Alan Stahl stabbing me.”

My lips peeled back from my teeth, halfway to a snarl.

“Goddammit, Naomi. I’m not going to let you do this,” Cass said. And then, to my shock, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. She held me tight, her chin against my shoulder. “I am not going to let you drive me away. I’m not going to lose you, too.” Tears quavered in her voice.

I shut my eyes and pressed my face into her hair, bringing my arms up to return her embrace. My throat was tight, my eyes stinging. How many times had I tried to push Cass away? We’d fight, or I’d just stop talking to her, burying myself in my own misery. And every time, she was there to dig me out again. She had never given up on me.

Except for once, a soft voice whispered in my mind.When I lay dying.

She let me go and stepped back, but her hand cupped the side of my neck as she looked into my eyes. I searched hers, too, desperate for some kind of answer.

“Naomi. What you said when you came to the lodge… It made me realize that I can’t be sure about what I saw. I’ve worked so hard not to think about it, and it was a blur even then,” Cass said. “But think aboutit. What reason could Oscar possibly have to hurt you? He’s not that kind of guy.”

My lips parted. She didn’t know. I’d never told her. And I couldn’t tell her now. “I’m just trying to find the truth,” I croaked.

“About what happened to you? About Persephone? About Liv?” Cass said. I could only shake my head wordlessly. All of it. Any of it. “I heard that you’re asking about a girl.”

“Jessi Walker,” I said.

“She’s…?” Cass said, and I nodded. She dropped her hand, stepping back. Her face screwed up like she was trying not to cry, and she stared at the floor for a moment before taking a sharp breath. “You’re sure.”

“As sure as I can be,” I said.

“I remember her,” Cass said, her voice sounding distant, and I stiffened. Of course Cass had known her. She was always tagging along after Oscar in those days. And I hadn’t known Jessi because I made sure to find somewhere else to be when he was around. “She was nice. She liked to ruffle my hair and she called me sweetheart a lot. Oscar was a complete dope around her. Totally, uselessly in love.” A little smile tucked up the corner of her mouth. “I remember Miller dragging him home because he was drunk as a skunk, trying to apologize to her through her apartment door for something. I think singing was involved.”

My heart thudded in my chest. Everyone said the same thing—that Oscar was madly in love. Except for Oscar, who seemed intent on downplaying it. Was it ego? Or self-preservation?

Cass gave a little shiver. She folded her arms again and gave me a level look. “I get that you’re trying to find the truth, Naomi. But what makes you think you’re going to be able to find it if no one else has? You don’t even like murder mysteries. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Ethan’s been helping me,” I said defensively.

She made a disbelieving noise. “So it’s true, then. You really are sleeping with the enemy.” Bitter amusement laced the words.

“He’s a good guy,” I told her.

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