“Then, fine,” Everett finishes. “We can focus on the friendship for a while. Whatever you want. Just don’t shut me out. All right?”
I don’t say anything at first. I don’t tell him that even slow is too fast. I can’t tell him I understand what it’s like to have a mother taken away—brutally murdered—at the age I needed her most. To cry for that type of love, to search for something to fill that hole but never find it. I can’t leave the door open, even a tiny bit, without wanting to fling it wide.
“I have to go,” I say, rising to my feet.
I try to edge away from him, but he gets up too. His hand reaches out, warm and solid as his fingers wrap around mine. “Night, Ryan,” he says, squeezing my hand.
“Night,” I murmur before hurrying off.
It isn’t until I’ve reached the end of the driveway that I become aware of my phone vibrating in my pocket.
I fish it out to discover that my aunt has been trying to reach me. Frantically. Three missed calls. One text message that ignites a spark of fear.
Maggie:You need to come home NOW.
twenty-three
Make Sure They Are Never Disturbed
Maggie is unusually silent. She’s the queen of small talk, the one who keeps idle chatter moving, but she hasn’t said a word since she met me at the end of Everett’s driveway in Dan’s pickup.
“Where are we going?” I ask for the fifth time, unable to ignore the nerves twisting in my stomach.
Why won’t she tell me, damn it?
She’s quiet the whole way into town. It’s eight in the evening, so most of the storefronts are dark. Some stay open till nine, but most close earlier than that. We find a parking space in front of the two-story building that houses her realty office. I notice a black SUV parked in the spot ahead of us. When I shift my gaze, my palms grow damp. Two men in suits are waiting outside the office.
“What is this?” I hiss at my aunt.
“FBI.” Her voice is tight.
I feel sick now. “What? Why?”
“They requested a meeting with you.” Her eyes flash. “And byrequested, they meant that if I didn’t allow you to speak to them, they would pull you out of school tomorrow morning and announce your identity to the whole town.”
Lovely. Starting off the relationship with threats. Always a good thing.
“Maggie Shipley?” the older man with the bald head says when we approach.
She nods.
He flips credentials at us, and I catch sight of block letters reading FBI. “I’m Special Agent Tom Kulpa. We spoke on the phone. This is Agent Luke Foster.”
My gaze flits to Foster, who is much younger than his black-suit-clad counterpart. He looks like he could be going to school with me at Crockett.
Maggie’s demeanor is icy as she unlocks the door. “Let’s go inside.”
My heart starts to pound. My aunt locks the office so nobody else can come in. Moonlight drifts into the open storefront, casting everything in eerie shadow. She leads us into her personal office, dragging in an extra chair because there are only two for visitors. She and I settle on one side, while the two men sit on the other, the desk effectively creating a barrier. I’ve never been more grateful for my aunt.
“Gabrielle,” Foster starts, and I jolt at the sound of my real name.
“Ryan,” I correct. “I’m Ryan now.”
“Yes. Sorry. Ryan.” He glances at Maggie for a split second, then continues. “We’re here because after your father committed suicide in his cell, we went through the items in his possession. He didn’t have much, but he did leave a note.”
I stiffen.
“Addressed to you.”
