Page 38 of Juniper Bean Resorts to Murder

“I will, thank you,” I say primly. Then I say, “You’re going to find out that girl’s name, right?”

“Definitely,” he says, turning his gaze back to his book, which he’s holding up in the air.

“You’re going to do it tomorrow?” I say.

“I’m going to do it today, if I can.” He pauses. “Except all I have is the yearbook. I’m going to look through it again in a bit. I’d look again now, but I really need to prep for class.”

“But if you can’t find her today, you’ll find her tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow morning, do you think?”

“Yes.”

“Can you call me when you find out who she is?” I say. I know I’m being obnoxious—when I’m trying to read and someone interrupts me, I usually want to smack them—but I need to know. I need to know who this girl is.

Finally Aiden sighs, closes his book with a snap, and looks at me. “Yes,” he says. “I will call you the second I find out. Any other requests?”

“Just one,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “Don’t judge me for how I might handle this situation.” I pause and let my eyes drop away from his penetrating gaze. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and I really don’t know how I’ll hold up. I’m not afraid of death or what happens afterward—whether it involves an afterlife or a hole in the ground. Those things don’t frighten me. But thinking aboutotherpeople dying—thinking about other people being lost, forgotten, becoming nothing more than a faded memory…” I shake my head. “It makes me unbearably sad.”

Then, as something occurs to me, I go on, “Maybe that’s why I feel so pulled to write murder mysteries. So that I can remember the dead, in my own way. So that I can find justice for the pains they’ve suffered, even if it’s only on the page.” I sigh. “Anyway, I know I’m bugging you and asking a lot of questions. But don’t judge me, okay? Even if I cry a lot or lose my mind or something. And for goodness’ sake.” I point to his impassive expression. “Do something with your face, so that I can figure out what you’re thinking. You either look disapproving or completely neutral all the time, and I never know what’s going on in your head. It’s stressful.”

“You have so many complaints about my face,” he murmurs, amusement sparking in his eyes. “I’ve always been told it’s a handsome one.”

“It is,” I admit. Then I grin. “Why do you think my seventeen-year-old self tried to kiss you?”

Aiden snorts. “Cut it out. Don’t flirt with me, Juniper Bean.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, still smiling. I pause, then go on, “Well, actually, I might havedreamedof it a time or two, but I would never flirt with you in real life—”

But I fall silent as a laugh bursts out of Aiden—a real, genuine laugh. “Get out of here,” he says, and his smile continues to hover as he shakes his head. “I’m trying to review the chapters I’m teaching my seniors tomorrow.”

I tilt my head, looking at him. “Do you like teaching?”

He shrugs. “I don’t love it, but I’m willing to do it.”

“I bet you’re good at it, though,” I say, trying to imagine him in the front of a high school classroom. “You were a great tutor.”

“Eh, I don’t know,” he says. He flattens his hair with one hand. “I think I’m better at teaching one on one than I am with a group.”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” I say, patting his arm, “you were a good tutor. You opened my eyes to how great reading and writing could be.”

“It’s good to hear that,” he says, and the look on his face makes me think he’s genuine. It’s a small, simple smile, but I like it. Sincerity is always attractive.

You know what else is always attractive? Aiden.

Ugh.

“All right, well,” I say, standing abruptly and backing away from the couch. I really don’t need to be noticing how attractive this man is; that way lies heartbreak. “I’m going to bed. Call me tomorrow, please, when you find out about the girl.”

Aiden nods, then turns his gaze back to his book. I assume that’s the only goodnight I’m going to get from him, so I hurry back up the big stairs, around the corner, and then up the little stairs.

And when I finally fall into a restless sleep many hours later, I dream about shadows in the forest, my mother’s laughter ringing in my ears.

11

IN WHICH AIDEN DOES SOME DIGGING

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