Page 41 of The Girl from Widow Hills
“I know, it’s just . . . You know my sister Mackenzie is a lawyer. I can ask her what she thinks.”
“Bennett . . .”
“Just as a hypothetical. She won’t do anything with it.” And then, at my pause, “It can’t hurt.”
Though I wasn’t sure if that was true. In the past, people who came under the guise of help also wanted something in return. I may have been born with a healthy dose of self-preservation, but I developed the lack of trust legitimately.
“Please don’t.”
“Okay,” he said. “Just—” He took out his phone. “I’m sending you her contact, in case you change your mind. She’s technically on maternity leave, but knowing my sister, I’m sure she checks in at the office. Just tell her I sent you.”
“All right,” I said. “Thank you.”
Bennett’s expression softened, eyes to the window again. “I don’t like you living so close to that guy. What’s his name? Mr. Aimes? I heard what the detective said about him.”
As if we could go back. Somehow center the story around Rick instead. As if he could unsay it all.
“Rick,” I said. “He’s always been good to me, Bennett.”
He sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to go right now, but I do, unfortunately. Elyse said she’d be back tonight.”
“It’s fine,” I said. I didn’t need a babysitter. The cops were still out there; I felt safe knowing they were probably keeping a close eye on both Rick and me.
I knew the irony was that the increased media attention probably saved my life when I was lost. A lot of people were watching the search, so they couldn’t stop looking, even though most people thought—even if they wouldn’t say—that I had probably been killed immediately, in the initial flood. And if I hadn’t been, the chance of finding an air pocket, of making it to safety, was small. The chance of reaching that grate and holding on where I’d be found? Even smaller. The chance that Sean Coleman was walking by that very spot? Borderline miraculous. That’s what made it a story that prevailed.
But I also knew what the story could demand of you, after.
This was what people wanted: They wanted it all. They wanted to fit you in a box. Hold you in the palm of one hand. Sum you up in one sentence. The shorter, the better. So they could understand who you were and the role you were intended to play for their benefit.
Right now the police interest would keep me safe. I was sure of it. I just didn’t know what would happen next. There was a line, and you had to stay on the right side of it.
“There’s food in the fridge,” Bennett said. “And I found the remote between your couch cushions. If you’re looking for hair ties, there were about twenty there, too.”
“Ha.”
“And that bracelet.” He pointed to the ceramic bowl on the side table. “It needs to be fixed, though.”
“What bracelet?” I didn’t wear much jewelry; it got in the way at work. Maybe it was Elyse’s, but she rarely wore any unless we were going out.
“Looks like a dance charm? Never took you for a ballerina, but I’m learning a lot this afternoon.”
I was already shaking my head. That bracelet was in the box, in the corner of my bedroom closet. Hidden away with the rest of my mother’s things.
“Is it not yours?” He picked it up, the whole thing dangling from his thumb and pointer finger. So dainty and fragile. Two of the chain links had torn apart in the middle.
“It is. Well, it was my mom’s.” I hadn’t been a dancer since I was a small child. Even then, I didn’t think a five-year-old in a tutu qualified.
He dropped it in my palm, and I gripped it tight to keep my hand from shaking. The scratch on my wrist glared back at me. I imagined the bracelet there. “It was in the living room?” I asked.
“Under the back pillows of the couch,” he said. “Look, I should probably get some sleep before my shift tomorrow. Will you be okay?”
“Yes.” I needed to get back to my bedroom to check the box. Figure out what had happened. Despite what I’d told Bennett, I no longer thought of Rick’s proximity as a comfort, either. I no longer knew what had happened in this house.
“Elyse said she’d swing by before heading in to her shift tonight. But I’m also going to leave my phone on. You can call me,” he said. He raised his arm like he might pull me into a hug. He did, but it was awkward, and stiff. Like we were pretending at something now. Arden Maynor was a stranger to him.
As she was to me.
AFTER BENNETT LEFT, Ilooped the bracelet over my wrist, trying to line it up with the scratch. Trying to trigger a memory. Searching deep into the recesses of my mind, trying to shake the night into focus.
