Page 16 of They Say a Girl Died Here

“You’re a writer?”

She didn’t answer that—she didn’t want to talk to him about the college degree that never was—but instead, as he pulled up outside the gates, she got out of the car, ready to take the front seat when the kids arrived. The students started coming out, balls of energy in human flesh, their lives ahead of them, filled with confidence and belief that everything was always going to be okay.

Her chest tightened with all the forgotten things. “And no one ever wants to believe the bad shit can be done by people they know.”

18

Holly, like Caroline, was all confidence and long limbs, and as Anna watched the two girls hug their goodbyes, pink lip gloss and high ponytails matching, having giggled and whispered and messaged each other during the short drive back to the house, she felt a pang for the loss of her own best friends. Frannie from high school, Emily at Columbia. She’d shared so much—especially with Frannie—but she’d cut them both off in the end. Said some awful things. Anything to avoid their pity.

As she waved a half-hearted goodbye to Todd, turning before he could give her that smile again, she thought Holly seemed sweet and open and friendly, and that was good for Caroline. Maybe it was easy to be that way when you come from a perfect, wealthy family and have a perfect, trauma-free life.

Trauma made her think of Jamie. Whether he was right or wrong about the dead girls and his own addiction, she felt the start of a bond with him. They’d both been through things that had changed them and could never go back to how it was before.

“Todd’s nice, isn’t he?” As they climbed the steps to the porch, Caroline glanced sideways at her, curious.

“I was walking and he gave me a ride. That’s all.” Anna’s answer was clipped, terse. She didn’t like the way Caroline looked at her—she didn’t like that Caroline was old enough to think that way now. Grandma wasn’t on the porch where she normally sat in the mornings and late afternoons; the cushions were still plumped and neat.

“I think he’s nice.”

“You think everyone’s nice.”

The air was only marginally cooler inside the house, the overhead fan moving the heat around ineffectually, and Anna kicked off her Converse to let her feet breathe before following Caroline into the kitchen, both in need of a cold drink. She paused, once more stopped in the doorway, when she saw Mom and Lucas the handyman sitting at the kitchen table, coffee and empty sandwich plates in front of them. His T-shirt was more fitted than when he’d been here last, and his jeans smarter. Mom, for her part, had lipstick and mascara on and was staring at Anna, almost challenging her to say something.

“Where’s Grandma?” Anna didn’t look at Lucas, his large frame almost too big for the small wooden table.

“Dr. Burdett took her for a picnic. He’s going to help out with her on a more regular basis, which is a godsend. I’ve given him a key.”

A key. The doc might be old, but that didn’t stop Anna prickling at the thought of him being able to come and go as he pleased. But still, it might also afford her more freedom if he was looking after Grandma.

“Hey, Lucas.” Caroline was already at the refrigerator, grabbing a plastic cheese slice and a can of Sprite. “Did you fix the faucet?”

“I sure did. No more drips.” He and Mom smiled at each other as if this was some great Nobel Prize–winning feat rather than a basic plumbing achievement. “And put the lock inside the basement door like your grandma wanted.”

“And yes, it’s loose on purpose, if you check it, Anna,” Mom said. “I don’t want Grandma getting stuck in there. Don’t know why she wanted the lock but there we go.”

“The bathtub faucets leak too,” Caroline cut in.

“They’re on the list.”

“You could have done them already if you weren’t eating a free lunch.” Anna took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. Her hand trembled. Lucas here flirting with Mom. Todd Greenbough smiling at her. Grandma out with Dr. Burdett, who now had a key to their house. It was too much. Too many men. Nothing was controllable. The tight strands of safety wound around them in this house of women were unraveling.

“Anna.”

She drank the water, ignoring her mother’s sharpness, focusing on the sensation of coolness, distracting herself with it. No more panic attacks. Not here. Not now.

“It’s okay, Claire.” Lucas got to his feet and held his hands up in supplication. “I brought the sandwiches with me and shared them with your mom. And I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, that wasn’t my intention.”

“Everyone upsets Anna,” Caroline said with a mouthful of cheese. “Not just you.” With that judgment pronounced she disappeared out and up to her room, probably to start messaging with Holly because the ten minutes they’d been apart was ten minutes too long.

“I should get going anyway.” If Anna had upset him, it didn’t show. Water off a duck’s back, as if Anna was a kid younger than Caroline, stamping her foot at sharing her mother’s attention. “I promised to take a look at the McArthurs’ generator and fix some fencing.”

“Sounds like you’re good at everything.” Mom stood up, one hand on a hip.

“I’m competent, which is about as good as it gets out here. Jack-of-all-trades, master of none.”

Jesus, he was a cliché. Anna put the glass down, glad to see the trembling in her hand was subsiding.

“So, dinner, then?” Mom sounded nervous, a teenager again.