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My mother’s puzzled expression only worsened as I exited the house without a jacket or any other form of clothing beyond my pajama shorts and tank top.
Her voice echoed down the drive as she called after me. “What on earth are you doing, Raelyn Jackson?”
“Nothing, I’ll be back soon.” I hurried down the street, ignoring the bite of cold that dug into my skin.
I had no idea if my mother was on my heels or not, but she had to know that I was old enough to leave the house half dressed, carrying a box of memorabilia, without having to explain myself.
One block down, with my breath clouding in front of me, I finally made my way to Nora’s front door. It was only eight at night, so there shouldn’t be any reason she wasn’t home. Pounding my knuckles against the wood, I began shifting from foot to foot, pushing down the ache growing in my fingers and along my arms.
Finally, the door swung open, revealing my best friend.
“What are you doi—”
I cut her off, pushing inside, the promise of warmth too tempting. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Petrov.” I smiled at Nora’s parents in greeting, walking back to her bedroom. They smiled, looking a little confused at my sudden appearance, but honestly, they shouldn’t be that surprised. Nora and I were once inseparable and were constantly at each other’s houses over the years.
“Okay, what is going on?” Nora shut and locked her bedroom door.
Setting the box down on Nora’s desk, I stood there and stared at it.
“We need to burn this.”
My best friend stepped closer, about to peer inside.
Embarrassment rose like bile, forcing me to guard the box. “No need to look inside. I just need help with burning it, and a witness to attest that any and all criminal activity regarding Davis Brenton has forthwith been burned.”
Nora’s eyes widened, her dark eyebrows arching with surprise. “Wait a second.”
My face burned red hot. “Nora…I just—”
“Oh my gosh, is this the box of—” Her eyes met mine, her body leaning closer.
She knew.
Stupidly, I had included her when I had started the journals andsurveillance.
I gave her a swift nod, unable to even speak the words.
“So, in here is everything?” She inched closer to the box.
Mashing my lips together, I gave her another swift nod.
“I have to see it.”
“No way,” I argued, moving to block her, but she was faster.
Grabbing it, she carried it above her head and moved around me, toward the door.
“Please, Rae, pretty please? Let’s have an old-fashioned slumber party, where we dish about Davis, and we go through your notes.”
I reached for her. “No way! I have to burn all the evidence.”
“Why are you so hell bent on suddenly burning all the evidence, when you could have destroyed it at any time over the last four years?”
“One” —I swiped at her, but she dodged me—“I honestly thought I could look back through them and laugh, seeing as I’d never see Davis again.”
“Two” —I stood up straight, eyeing her position and trying to gauge where to attack—“I haven’t really thought about it, and I’ve been in New York.”
“You could have asked me.”
