But I can’t help but wonder…
I glance at the handheld mirror. What if Rafe is here, listening to our conversation? What if it was his voice Harper just heard?
“A sketchpad,” Jude says, pulling it out, along with a set of graphite pencils. It’s filled with dark, disturbing images, and as he flips through the pages, I’m struck by a sense of familiarity, as though I’ve seen the artist’s work before.
Then I notice it.
A signature at the bottom of the page.
Ihaveseen the artist’s work before.
Upstairs, on the second floor of Evermore Books. In a display about the Vandenberg Cold Case. A sketch of a faceless man, submitted into evidence and then mysteriously redacted.
A drawing by Lily Vandenberg.
26
QUESTIONS ON TOP OF QUESTIONS
Jude opens the passenger side door for me.
I slip inside and watch him circle around the front of his car, the sketchpad on my lap. Lily was an artist. The faceless man in the Vandenberg display wasn’t a one-off. She drew a whole notebook full of dark and beautiful things.
Simon’s rebellious sister.
Another victim of the curse.
If he’s alive, what about her? What about their parents?
Questions stack on top of questions.
What has happened to Emma and Sienna?
What are Griffin and Lainey up to?
What was the deal with that rift in her basement?
And what can be done about the mark on Jude’s chest?
My brain feels squished.
My heart, sick.
And there’s anger, too.
It’s been trumped by worry, but it’s there—a tiny knot in the pit of my stomach. I don’t think I should keep ignoring it. So, when Jude slides behind the wheel and shuts the door, I turn to face him. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”
“Okay.”
“But I am. I’m mad, Jude. If it was just the roommate story, I could maybe get over it, but you told me your grandfather was dying.”
“I know.” He leans back in his seat and has the decency to look genuinely ashamed. “I shouldn’t have lied.”
“You really shouldn’t have.” It was wrong, hence the hard little knot in my stomach. But even as I pay it some attention, it shifts to the side to make room for chagrin. I’m being a little hypocritical. “I understand keeping the truth from someone because you don’t want them to worry. That’s what I’ve been doing with my dad.”
He opens his mouth.
I keep talking before he can get any words out. “The difference is, we’re supposed to be in this together.”
