Page 92 of Trapper Road

“You ever think of moving away?” I ask.

She snorts. “And do what?”

“I don’t know. You’re smart, aren’t you?” I remember she was the one who helped track Connor after he’d been kidnapped by landing a drone on the RV that took him. “Have you thought about college? You could probably get in somewhere pretty good.”

She gives a dramatic gasp. “What? A Belldene? Going to college? And an Ivy League at that?” She presses the back of her wrist against her forehead and pretends to swoon. “My word, what is this world coming to?”

I can’t help but smile. “I definitely wouldn’t be applying for any theater scholarships if I were you.”

She grins in response. “I happen to think my British accent is coming along swimmingly.” She then looks at me curiously. “You considering college?”

A week ago the answer would have been an automatic yes. Now, I’m not so sure. That run in with the press earlier is just another reminder that there’s no escaping my past or who I really am. I could go to Reyne and pretend to be Lanta Cade and start life fresh, but the minute my mom came to visit, someone would probably recognize her and then it would all come crashing down.

If I want to start over, if I want to live a normal life and become truly anonymous, it would mean leaving my family behind. I could never do that. My family is everything to me. “I don’t know,” I answer her truthfully.

She gives me a sad smile. “Ain’t so easy to escape who you are after all.”

After that, Florida agrees to give me a ride through the woods to the main road, making sure there’s enough distance between us and my house that the press won’t see us. We both figure it’s best if we’re not seen together, especially given the bad blood between our families. I slide off her bike, missing the warmth of her pressed up against me and the rumble of the bike’s engine beneath.

“See ya,” she says, even though we both know it’s pretty unlikely.

I nod. “Thanks for the lift.”

She gives me a broad smile, then revs her bike and takes off. It’s only when she’s well gone that I remember I’m wearing her jean jacket. I wait a while to see if she’ll come back for it. When she doesn’t, I pull the cuff up and press it against my cheek. It smells like the outdoors: wood smoke, grass, pine, and for some reason, lemons. I decide that I like it.

27

GWEN

Thankfully, Chief Parks believes his word is sacrosanct and hasn’t bothered reaching out to Mrs. Devlin to inform her not to discuss the case with me. Once I introduce myself and explain that I was hired by the Larsons to investigate Juliette’s disappearance, she’s more than happy to let me speak with her daughter.

She leads me out onto a wide back porch and gestures toward an old swing set toward the far end of the yard. I make my way across the expanse of perfectly manicured lawn and find Willa sitting on one of the swings, her fingers wrapped around the chain supports and her feet barefoot in the dirt underneath. She’s wearing a white dress that billows around her, the hem just reaching her knees. Her frizzy yellow hair falls down her back, whips catching in the soft morning breeze.

I introduce myself and ask if she’s okay talking to me. She barely meets my eyes before giving a small nod. I feel a little too imperious and intimidating standing over her, so I take a seat in the swing beside her, twisting slightly so that I’m facing her.

“Are you sure you’re okay talking to me without your mom here? I can find another time if that would be better.”

She shakes her head, sending more wisps of hair fluttering about her cheeks. She carefully hooks a few with her finger and tucks them behind her ear. “No, it’s fine,” she says in a small, light voice. She looks so fragile and delicate, her limbs long but slight. She reminds me of a dandelion puff — capable of being scattered by the gentlest breeze.

“I’m sorry about Juliette. From everything I’ve learned about her, she seems like she was a good person and a good friend. I’m sure you miss her.”

She nods, her eyes still on her knees, but says nothing.

“Chief Parks tells me you were at the station last night…” I trail off, waiting for her to fill in the rest.

It takes her a while, but finally she nods. “He wanted us to ID the guy we saw in the truck.”

“The guy Juliette was with the afternoon she disappeared.”

“Yeah.”

“And did you?”

She draws a breath to answer, but then hesitates. She lifts a shoulder. “I guess.”

I frown. It’s not the answer I was expecting, especially given the way Parks discussed their corroboration. He seems to think it was a done deal — solid eyewitness testimony. Now, it sounds like that may not be the case. Alarm bells begin to sound in my head, the uneasy feeling in my gut growing stronger. “You guess?”

She drags a bare toe through the dirt under the swing, drawing a circle and then another and another. “I mean, Mandy seemed pretty sure, and she has a better memory so…” She shrugs again. I notice in the movement how bony her shoulders are, the blades sharp little wings cutting against the delicate fabric of her dress.

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