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“Do you have a washer and dryer?” Kyrie asked.
“No.”
“You can come to my house and do laundry if you want.”
“My aunt does it at the place behind the Mill on Spring street.”
“I know where everything is here, Nicholas.” Kyrie sighed. “You don’t have to tell me where the laundry mat is.”
“My bad,” I said, holding my hands up.
“I’m just saying we could study, and I could tutor you while you do your laundry.”
“Maybe,” I replied, searching for my Converse.
On my bed, Kyrie wrung her hands, glancing at the door.
“Are you okay?” I asked. Sorina said Kyrie didn’t want me, but I wasn’t sure if that was true. It wasn’t arrogance, but there was something in her voice when she said Sorina’s name. Maybe it wasn’t jealousy; perhaps it was fear. I couldn’t be sure.
Kyrie’s voice was low when she spoke again. “I heard my parents talking about Amber the other morning. They always drink their coffee together and talk. Anyway, they said the cross on top of Amber’s father’s church was vandalized, broken off the top, in the parking lot. It happened the night she went missing. We have a cross in our front yard. Did you see it when you came over? In the rose bushes?”
“I think, I don’t know.” Everything in Kyrie’s home and the area surrounding it was pristine. Beautiful. Maybe that’s why nothing stood out to me. I was drawn to the dark—the ugly.
“This morning when I left, it wasn’t sitting up straight. So I ran back in and told my dad and mom so they could fix it. They looked … I don’t know. Worried. Scared. I’m surprised they let me leave.”
“I’m sure it was just—”
“A storm?” she suggested, eyebrow raised. “There was no storm last night, just rain.”
“Maybe—”
“Vandals? We don’t have that here. I’m not looking for comfort or coddling. I get enough of that from my parents. Do you think I should be worried?” Her voice told me she was worried already. And comfort or coddling was not something I knew how to offer. The warning was unnecessary. Before I spoke, I thought of the woods beyond the pond, and the way I felt a slight pull to it the night before. Then I thought of the dinner Valerie and I were to have at the Deacon’s before the dance.
I cleared my throat. “That depends. Do you think she ran away? Or do you think there’s something to everything Eric said?” I asked.
“I wish I knew.”
THIRTEEN
The house was grand.Old.The exterior of the first floor was red brick, the second story covered in grey, and ornate designs flanked the windows. At the top of the mansion I could see open windows, and a grand chandelier in a single room above all else. Ivy crawled above the front door, and to the right hung a sign that readSteele Mansion.
I stood on the gravel, hanging back for a moment, taking it all in before the Deacon greeted us at the door, swinging it wide and grinning. “My guests,” he said, hissing on the S’s.
He wore black glasses and held a cane. He was younger than I imagined, closer to Valerie’s age. But that’s not what stood out about him.
I stared at his cane, his black glasses, and then I looked at Valerie, hard, sniffing the air. She did not turn her face, but I knew she felt my acid eyes on her.
She had a pie cradled in her hands, and her smile was only for the man before her. I cleared my throat as I stepped up to the door, willing her to look at me. She didn’t. Something flashed across his face. However fleeting it was, I saw it.
And it felt like he saw me.
He didn’t want me there.
I was spare parts, an unfortunate circumstance.
He wanted Valerie alone.
As she spoke to him, I couldn’t help the anger that swelled over me.How stupid. How fucking stupid,I thought. Maybe she wanted to be close to this man because she thought it would spare her the horrors men subjected a woman to. But I could feel it.
