CHAPTER NINE
By the next night, I’m sick of hearing about how hot the new guy is. It’d be different if somebody had the scoop on him. His eyes resembling the color of the Caribbean doesn’t count.
“Can we talk about something besides Max Harper, Becks?”
The carnival’s closed for the night, and we’re walking along the boardwalk headed for a party taking place under the pier. Once or twice a week, word spreads like a zombie infestation that the gang is gathering. Maia’s usually the one announcing the news. Today, I heard it from everybody except Maia, but that could be because she remembered she was mad at me.
“How about that Black Widow?” Becky asks.
Constance Hightower didn’t show up for a court appearance this morning in Wilmington. Speculation is rampant that she’s run off with what money of Boris’s she can get her hands on. The media is reporting the children of the late, lamented Boris Hightower are furious that Constance was let out on bail. They’re afraid she’ll get away with murder.
“I’m sick of hearing about her, too.”
“Okay, then let’s go back to Max. I’m still trying to figure out why you invited yourself over to his place when you’d barely met the guy?”
“I already told you, I want to see what he can afford on our measly salary.”
“Because you’re thinking of moving out of your house?”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t buy it.” She has to take three steps to my two to keep up with me. “Living with your mom sucks but you won’t have the money to move out while you’re going to community college.”
“Who says I’m going?”
“You’ve gotta go,” Becky wails. “If your grades are good enough, after two years you can transfer to UNC and we can still be roommates.”
Becky had been accepted to UNC less than a week after I’d been offered the scholarship. We’d sent in our applications for housing at the same time, requesting each other as roommates. For a solid week, we’d planned how to decorate our dorm room, right down to the horror movie posters on the wall.
All our plans had blown up when senior year grades came out and UNC took back my scholarship and with it my future.
“Let’s not talk about college,” I say.
“Okay. We’ll discuss college later. After we finish talking about Max.”
“We weren’t talking about Max. You were. I think we should talk about Porter McRoy. Any progress on that front?”
“None. Talk about shy. I can barely get a word out of him. No wonder I didn’t notice how cute he was until senior year.”
“Maybe he’ll be at the party.”
She noisily blows out a stream of air. “And maybe one of the helicopters on that ride in Kiddie Land will take off and fly.”
“You might have to ask him out.”
“Possibly. But it would mean so much more if he asked me.” Becky bumps my shoulder playfully. “Isn’t that what you’re hoping will happen tonight with Max?”
Since Becky introduced us yesterday, our paths haven’t intersected. Somehow Becky’s figured out the main reason I suggested going to the party under the pier is that I heard Max would be there. It’s not exactly a lie to confirm I’d like some one-on-one time with him.
“Okay. Yeah.”
“I knew it!” Becky exclaims. “Was it really so hard to admit you’re hot for him?”
Becky almost never tries to pry things out of me. Because I tell her everything, there’s no need. I’d like to spill about Max lurking in the forest, but something holds me back.
“This is so great.” Becky claps. “So you’re over Hunter?”
This, I couldn’t mislead her about. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Max is just as good-looking as Hunter, and he’s never gone out with Adair,” she points out.
Max is talking to Adair when we arrive, though. It’s low tide and the two of them are standing in the sand beside a pillar amid a dozen or so teenagers, her blonde head cocked toward his dark one. In the forest, Max claimed he didn’t know Adair. Yet it doesn’t look as though they’re strangers.
Some of our friends are drinking beer, but I’m not even tempted. Why waste calories on something that’s both illegal and bitter tasting? Becky’s driving. She snags us a couple Diet Cokes.
“Let’s make sure Adair doesn’t get your man before you do.” She grabs me by the hand and heads straight for Adair and Max. I hear pieces of conversations as we weave through the crowd, most of them about the missing Black Widow. Becky turns back to me when we’re halfway there with a mischievous smile on her face. “Watch this.”
Her meaning becomes clear pretty quick.
“Hey, Max, Adair.” Becky doesn’t let go of my hand until we’re standing in front of them. “I’ve been looking all over for Hunter. Have either of you seen him?”
“I don’t even know who Hunter is,” Max says, answering Becky but keeping his eyes glued on me. A corner of his mouth elevates.
“Adair’s boyfriend,” Becky says. “Do you know where he is, Adair?”
Adair’s smile looks frozen. “No clue.”
“So it’s true you two are taking a break?” Becky asks. “I’d heard that but I didn’t know whether to believe it.”
“It’s true,” Adair says, still in a voice that sounds dipped in sugar.
“What kind of a break?” Becky asks. “I mean, are you seeing other people?”
“Why do you need to know that?” Finally. The sugar’s dissolving.
“I don’t need to know, but Max might.”
He laughs, a rich sound that rumbles like the ocean waves. “Nothing’s going on between Adair and me. Right, Adair?”
“Right,” Adair says. What other response can she give? “Jade, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Before I can say anything, Adair grabs me by the upper arm and guides me away from Max and Becky. She gives me the evil eye from her lofty height.
“You’re not fooling me, bitch,” she bites out. “I know you put your little friend Becky up to that.”
“Up to what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. You must have your eye on Max yourself.” She laughs. “Poor pathetic Jade. Go for it. But know this. If I want Max, I can have him. Just like I have Hunter.”
“Had.” I can’t keep quiet when she gave me an opening a giant mutant bug could walk through. “You had Hunter.”
“We’ll see about that.” She spins away from me and stalks off, sand kicking up behind her.
Nothing is left for me to do but return to Max and Becky. As soon as I join them, Becky looks pointedly around. “I see someone I need to talk to. Catch you later.”
She leaves us alone in what has to count as one of the most manufactured exits of all time.
“What was that about?” Max asks.
“She thinks I’ve got a thing for you.”
The second corner of his mouth lifts to join the first in a full-fledged smile. “I like the sound of that.”
“Don’t get excited. It’s not true. I only wanted to get you alone.”
He sidles closer to me. “You can have me anywhere you want me.”
I move back. “To talk. About what a coincidence it is that you turn up in Midway Beach a day after we run into each other in the coastal forest.”
“I told you I was on the way to my summer job.”
“Next you’ll say you just happened to run into Adair, the very girl whose father owns the property where you were trespassing.”
“That is a coincidence.” His expression doesn’t change.
“What were you doing out there, Max? If Max is your real name.”
He, too, is drinking Coke. But full-flavored, not diet. He takes a long swallow before he answers. “I don’t get why you’re so suspicious.” He pauses. “Unless it has something to do with what happened to you last winter.”
“How do you know about that?” My tone is sharp.
“I’ve been working the carnival fo
r two days. People talk.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“I don’t,” he says. “So why don’t you tell me yourself what happened?”
I look around. More people are arriving by the moment. Many of them are within hearing range. Across the party, Becky catches my eye and gives me two thumbs up.
“Not here,” he says. “Let’s walk on the beach.”
I should know better than to go off with a stranger I don’t trust. This is the part of the movie where I’m declaring the heroine too stupid to live and throwing popcorn at the screen.
“C’mon.” He cocks his head toward the ocean. “You tell me your story, I’ll tell you mine.”
It’s too tempting to resist. “Let me tell Becky where I’m going.”
“Tell her I’ll drive you home.”
“I’ll tell her to wait for me.”
He salutes me. “You’re the boss.”
The temperature of the ocean water is nearly as warm as the night air. The surf teases my bare feet, the water advancing and retreating as we walk alongside each other. The clouds that had delivered some early morning showers had lingered all day and into the night. The moon isn’t visible and neither are the stars.
I’m carrying my flip-flops. If he tries anything, they’re my only weapon.
“Any time you’re ready to start,” Max says, “I’m listening.”
“What did you hear?”
He scratches the side of his nose. “I heard about your dad. That’s a bum deal. I’m sorry.”
Unexpected tears prick the backs of my eyes. I blink them back. “Stepdad. No reason to be sorry. He was guilty.”
“I didn’t mean sorry for him,” Max says. “I meant sorry for you. It can’t be easy having him in prison.”
I blink again, not trusting myself to respond to that. “What else did you hear?”
“That after he pleaded guilty, you don’t remember anything that happened for two days.”
I kick at the water and it sprays in an arc. “Not bad for gossip.”
“So those days you don’t remember,” he says. “Where do you think you were?”
“Roxy Cooper says I was with her on a ski trip.”
“Yeah, I heard she said you don’t remember going with her because you hit your head. Kind of hard to buy.” He pauses, and the roar of the ocean fills my ears. “She’s a strange lady. Why would you go anywhere with her?”
He actually gets it. “Exactly.”
“What do you think really happened?”
The question seems innocent, but I’ve lived near the ocean long enough to know that unseen currents lurk beneath the surface. He could be trying to lull me into trusting him with my secrets.
“Do you think someone abducted you and held you against your will?” he prods.
“Something like that.”
“Who?”
“Beats me. For all I know, it could have been an evil clown.” I’m not sure why I recklessly throw that out there. Maybe to see his reaction. There is none. Sighing, I say, “You got any ideas?”
“What would I know about it?”
“You seem awfully interested for a guy who doesn’t know anything.”
A wave larger than the others pounds the shore and splashes salty water into the air, soaking the bottoms of our shorts. Max doesn’t flinch. “It’s an interesting story.”
I’ve held the stage long enough. “What’s your story? You promised to tell me.”
He stops, turns to me and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. The sensation of his fingertips grazing the skin at my temple feels sensuous. For one pulse-skittering moment I think he’s going to kiss me, but then his hand drops away from my face. “It’s not as interesting as yours.”
I’m disappointed, both because he didn’t kiss me and because I would have let him. My words come out harsh. “Let me be the judge of that.”
The next batch of waves is gentler, the roaring not quite as loud so I can hear every word.
“My dad used to take me to the carnival when I was a kid. Happiest times of my life. He died when I was ten years old. So when I saw on Craigslist that the Midway Beach Carnival was hiring, I applied.”
“That’s it?” I harden my heart against the boy who lost his father at such a young age. It’s probably not even true. “That’s your whole story?”
“My mom’s not real happy I’m here. She raised me by herself. She works all the time, though, so she’ll hardly notice I’m gone.”
“I don’t believe this. I thought you were going to tell me what you were doing in the forest.”
“I already told you. I was scouting hunting locations.”
This is a waste of my time. I feel my feet sink into the sand. We’ve walked far enough that the lights are visible from one of the beachfront mansions at the Estates at Ocean Breeze. But we are utterly alone. If Max had something to do with my abduction, it’s dark enough that he could easily orchestrate another disappearance.
“I want to turn back,” I declare.
His attention, for once, isn’t on me. His focal point is somewhere in the distance. “There’s something up ahead on the beach. It looks like it might be a person.”
I squint and pick out an elongated lump. If the lump’s human, there has to be some reason it’s horizontal. “Sometimes we get homeless people sleeping on the beach.”
“I don’t think so. It’s too near the shoreline.”
The beauty of the ocean can hypnotize the unsuspecting into taking dangerous chances. Just last summer, Hunter got caught in an undertow and barely made it back to shore alive. If he hadn’t been such a strong swimmer, he would have been a goner. Like others over the years who haven’t been so lucky.
“Oh, my God. You don’t think it’s a body, do you?”
Even before I finish the question, Max sprints toward the dark shape. I start running, too, my feet sinking into the sand as water sprays in every direction.
A cloud drifts from in front of the moon, lighting our path. Max comes to an abrupt stop. He’s silhouetted against the moon, hand rising to his mouth. He turns to me, shielding me with his body from whatever’s on the beach.
“Don’t come closer,” he says. “It’s a dead woman.”
He can’t be certain she’s dead. In the movies, heroes are always administering CPR and breathing life into people supposedly thought drowned. Adrenaline propels me forward, and I side step him to reach the woman.
The woman is lying on her back unquestionably dead, her eyes wide open and staring. It’s not just any dead woman. So many photographs of her have appeared in the media that I instantly recognize the notorious Constance Hightower.
If the Black Widow was on the run, she didn’t run far.
“I don’t understand,” I murmur, staring down at the body. “Why isn’t her hair wet?”
“Because she didn’t drown.” Max’s arm comes around me, taking away some of the chill of the discovery. “Even at high tide, the surf doesn’t come up this far.”
“Then how?”
“Her wrists,” comes Max’s soft reply. “They’re slit.”