Page 46 of My Girl
“Hey, beautiful,” he says. His voice drops: “Listen, I talked to my brother, and he can’t get anything like that from the Michael Hall case. I’ll keep checking and see if there’s another way to get that kind of information, but it’s confidential, you know? I tried to explain the context, but he says they get requests like that all the time, and he can’t let a DNA sample slip?—”
My mind goes blank. I’m outside of myself, sitting on top of the mortuary building, looking down at Penny and a girl named Rae. Nothing is real.
I can’t confirm that Michael Hall is my father.
But Crave was just messing with me. He said so himself.
What if Crave is right, though? What if I’m chasing the idea of someone who doesn’t have any connection to me?
What if I’ve been chasing Crave for no other reason than the fact that he excites me?
What if this is all for nothing?
“I’m so sorry, Rae,” Ned says, interrupting my thoughts. “I tried to make it happen, but it’s legal stuff, you know?”
“Thanks,” I say. I clear my throat; I need to appear more grateful. “Really, I appreciate it. You’re a good man.”
Michael Hall was a good man too.
Another man. Another lie.
“This isn’t over yet, okay?” he says. “I’ll keep working on it. My brother has to know something.”
“Sure.”
I stow my phone in my purse. Penny lifts a brow, reading the mood change. She doesn’t ask me about it.
My phone buzzes again. I answer immediately.
“Hello—”
“This is the Pahrump Police Department,” an automated voice says. “Due to unforeseen circumstances, we’ve had to cancel your appointment with the sheriff. Please call back to reschedule?—”
I hang up before the message finishes. An unsavory taste lingers on my tongue.
The timing is strange. It’s as if Ned, his brother, and the sheriff discussed my interest in the case somehow. And maybe they did. Maybe they’re all in on this, and this is another attempt to hide what really happened to my father.
Or maybe it’s a sign that I’m supposed to let it go.
The breeze chills the bare skin on my neck. I pull my cardigan tighter around myself. Penny studies the headstone thoughtfully. She picks up some dried twigs.
“Why do you think they were killed?” I ask.
Her eyes trace mine, her expression different from before. Maybe she’s trying to read why I’m actually asking. It’s a sudden change in tone, I know that, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. Asking her seems like the best way to figure that out.
“Some things are the way they are,” Penny says. “There is no reason. No nature. No nurture. People are just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It is what it is.” She lowers her eyes to my father’s gravestone. “That’s the only truth that helps me make sense of this stuff.”
I cling to that word: truth.
The truth is in my DNA, and part of me is scared of that. What if I never get the answers I’m looking for? What if I’m related to Michael Hall, and he reallydidkill his wife? Or what if Crave is right—that I’m not actually related to Michael Hall—and I don’t have any excuse for the way I am? What if my fucked-up thoughts don’t have any direct cause? What if this is who I am for no reason at all?
“Hey,” Penny says. She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I straighten my posture. There’s no point in bringing Penny into any of this.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I guess it’s kind of weird to be so absorbed by this dark stuff sometimes.”
“I get it. Totally,” she says. “Let’s just focus on the party for now. Are you finished cleaning?”
