Page 148 of Trust No One

“More or less.” I’d evaded his direct gaze when we were kids. Not now.

“Why did you try to kill yourself?”

My gap year between junior and senior years had been the subject of so much gossip. Amazing how people had filled in the missing twelve months. A European tour. A secret baby. Prison . . .

“You never asked me that before,” I said.

Judson’s gaze sharpened with profound interest. “It felt rude. Maybe I was afraid of the answer. Now I’m older and not as nice.”

That teased a small smile. My therapists had encouraged me to talk about my feelings. “At the time, my path seemed so unclear. Dad was dead. Mom was losing her mind.” I sighed. “Whenever I tried to verbalize my thoughts, I couldn’t. At the time, the hopelessness made sense. Now it doesn’t.”

“Why’d you hire Amy?”

“Maybe I was rescuing myself as much as her.”

He didn’t respond.

“She was homeless. Lost, maybe. But she adapted very quickly to life at Hale House.”

“Why did she copy you?”

“We learn by imitating, don’t we? Show a celebrity photo to our hairstylist. Buy clothes endorsed by a social media influencer. A form of flattery, right?”

“Depends on how far it goes.”

“Amy didn’t do anything malicious.”

I remembered her progression. Makeup, hair, a shirt, jeans, perfume. But we’d never talked about this—and hearing the facts from me seemed to matter.

“How long was she here?” he asked.

“About a year. I’d drive her back and forth to school. And with Mom we’d rotate nights.”

“What did your mother think of Amy?”

“I don’t think she noticed her. Toward the end, she confused Amy with me.”

“Did Amy ever talk about her private life?”

“She didn’t say much. Once at breakfast I saw scratches on her arms. She said she’d gotten them in the woods while taking a walk. She liked to hike by the creek.”

“You didn’t press for more details?”

She was serving a purpose, and I didn’t really care. “It seemed a reasonable explanation.”

The distance between us seemed to expand. Once we’d been so close, I had thought he could read my thoughts. We’d become accustomed to each other’s bodies. And I missed that familiarity. I hated the distance and wondered if we could get what we’d had again or if the window for us had closed forever.

He cleared his throat. Angled his body toward me. “You said she was strong, and no one’s fool, correct?”

If he intended to quell my desire, it worked. “That’s right.”

“She fell for Gabe in high school and then again this year.”

“Not the first strong woman who made a bad choice in men. Case in point—Ken and me.”

He didn’t comment on that last bit. “Amy didn’t love Gabe as much as Hale House,” he said. “She was obsessed with this house.”

He paused, as if considering his words, then added, “The medical examiner said Amy died before Maria and Gabe.”