Page 88 of The Gallagher Place
“You can’t own a river,” Marlowe said. “Not really. You can’t own flowing water.”
Nora tilted her head, considering. “You’d have everything. Everything you ever wanted. Everything I ever wanted.”
“But they killed you,” Marlowe said. “And they would get away with it.”
“And I’d still be dead,” Nora said, flippant as always. “No matter what you do.” She shrugged. “But they wouldn’t have the Gray House, would they? That doesn’t sound like getting away with it to me.”
Nora turned her blue eyes toward Marlowe and smiled. That knowing, teasing smile that had always made Marlowe believe in her friend’s invincibility. It made Marlowe believe in herself, as if she was bestowed a slice of Nora’s luminosity, simply by proximity.
“Take it, Marlowe,” she said. “Take it all.”
Marlowe wanted to tell her—wanted to say that she didn’t have to die. That if she had asked, Marlowe would have given her anything. She would have run away with her. She would have let Nora sleep on the floor of her dorm room.
She never would have left her behind. Ever.
But Nora hadn’t known that when she was fifteen.
And now she was gone.
What was the point of making promises to a ghost?
After giving her name to the receptionist, Marlowe waited in the empty lobby, the envelope clutched tight against her chest. Outside, bells chimed faintly over the hum of Christmas music.
Ariel appeared around the corner, dressed in her customary black blazer. The sleeves were too long; the fabric looked cheap. If she ever made it out of the backwoods, maybe she’d invest in something sharper.
Marlowe stood and held out the envelope without a word.
Ariel stared for a moment before reaching out to take it.
“Thank you for giving it to me,” Marlowe said.
“I don’t really want your gratitude.” Ariel studied Marlowe.
Marlowe had to play stupid. It was second nature by now. She had spent years believing her own ignorance—what was one more conversation?
She lowered her head. “I don’t have anything else to give you. I’m sorry.”
Ariel scoffed. She’d long since abandoned any pretenses of mutual respect or decency. “Seriously? You’re just gonna toe the line? Dance to your brother’s tune?”
“I don’t know anything.” Even to her own ears, the words rang pitifully.
Ariel shook her head. “You know something. You have to.”
“But I don’t.”
Marlowe found fragments of steel in her spine as she straightened against the weight of Ariel’s scrutiny. She wouldn’t be pushed around anymore; she wouldn’t let Ariel yank on her strings. She was not the criminal here. Ariel could curse Marlowe’s name forever—it wouldn’t change a thing.
Ariel exhaled sharply. “This isn’t the end.”
“It is for me.”
Marlowe could have dared Ariel to comb through the Gray House and the land on her hands and knees for all she cared. But silence was better.
She turned for the door, and Ariel didn’t stop her.
“I believed you, you know.” Ariel’s parting words hung in the desolate lobby. “When you said you wanted her found.”
Marlowe stopped. “I truly did.”
