Maude made no move to take the folder.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally, and then the tears came, rolling silently down her cheeks at an alarming rate. “I almost told you so many times.”
“I’m not your lawyer,” I said as I sat on the edge of the chair across from her. “I want to make that clear. Nothing you tell me will be privileged. In fact, I could even be obligated to let the police know I found your fingerprints at the scene, to help Zach. He’s my client. But I’m—I read parts of Amanda’s journal. I know the two of you were really good friends. If there’s something I can tell the police that will help explain what happened when I talk to them, I want to do that, too.”
This was true. But it was also true I was there for the much more selfish purpose of categorically ruling out Sam. And to do that, I needed Maude to tell me what had actually happened. I needed to hear her say it—that she was responsible. She and not Sam.
“Maude,” Sebe said sharply. “That’s the second time she’s told you to retain your own lawyer. You should.Weshould. Before you speak more.”
Maude closed her eyes and shook her head. She patted the couch next to her, encouraging Sebe to come sit. Once he had, she reached over for his hand and linked their fingers tight.
“He’s always trying to protect me from myself,” she said to me. “You know, he went back to Amanda’s house to see if he couldfind something I was afraid I’d dropped there. Almost got himself arrested, or worse, all for me.”
The test strip. The one I had in a pocket somewhere. Of course, it could have been for glucose monitoring, not ovulation. Maude had said she was diabetic. It was Sebe who had been in the house when I was there; his prints were surely on the back door.
“Iamtrying to protect you,” Sebe said. “That’s why I’m telling you to stop talking.”
“Come on, Sebe.” Maude put a hand on his back when he looked away. “How can we tell Sophia to live her truth, not to be ashamed, if we’re not brave enough to face the mistakes we’ve made? And I made a mistake that night, there’s no doubt. I never should have gone to Zach and Amanda’s house.”
Amanda
THE PARTY
When Amanda hung up, she felt like she could fly. She’d never told anyone to fuck off before, not in her entire life. And her dad, of all people? She’d stood her ground. She’d used her voice. And she was not struck dead. The world did not disappear. Amanda was smiling as she looked down at her phone.
Maybe Zach could not be changed, but perhaps the world could be. Not with a single conversation or one long scream. But little by little. Like the small clicks of a combination lock, each notch bringing her one step closer to freedom.
But when Amanda looked up, her heart immediately sank. Sarah and Zach were talking on the far side of the room. Zach was moving his hands around in that way he did when he was explaining something to someone he thought was especially stupid; Sarah’s eyebrows were pinched, in that way they always were whenever she talked to someone she hated. There Zach went, ruining everything again.
Amanda’s phone vibrated with a text.
NO FUCK YOU FUCKING BITCH
Rage pulsed through the screen. Amanda’s hand felt scalded. She almost dropped the phone.
She looked around for Maude. She couldn’t tell Zach about her dad, but she could tell her friends. They would try to help her. But before she could find Maude, her phone vibrated again.
Keep looking. I’m here.
Amanda jerked back, knocking right into a busty woman with short curly hair and a full glass of red wine who was standing behind her. The wine tipped all over the woman’s white blouse.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Amanda gasped.
But the woman only laughed, looking down at the damp stain covering her huge breasts. She was rocking visibly. “Who cares! My kids are at camp. I haveall daytomorrow to wash my own fucking shirt.”
Another pulse in Amanda’s hand.
Come find me! And try not to spill any more wine.
Amanda felt light-headed as she scanned the faces in the crowd. He was there, watching her. He was inside that house. But surely he’d stand right out. Was he watching her through a window? Like the peepers Sarah had talked about? If he was outside, that meant it wasn’t safe to leave. Amanda was trapped.
She needed someplace safe to think.
There was a couple on the staircase already, drifting up awkwardly. They were talking and laughing. The woman had a spiky pixie cut, the man a shaved head. They made an attractive couple. Not married, though, definitely not. There was a flirtatious bashfulness to the whole thing, and a politeness, as if giving each other space to change their minds.
Amanda paused, giving them another second to get all the way up, before darting upstairs herself. She peeked carefully down the hall, walking quickly past two closed doors until she found a small open room at the back. On the opposite side of the hall was a big signtaped to one door that read “Off Limits.” Sophia’s room, probably.
Amanda turned into the open guest room and pulled the door shut behind her. She barely had the door locked when someone knocked. He’d followed her up the stairs. She looked around frantically for a way out—the window, but it was too high; she’d have no way to get down. Amanda tried to take a deep breath. She was starting to feel dizzy. Was everyone there so drunk they’d honestly let her deadbeat dad waltz on inandup the stairs?
