“No.” She spins her chair to face me fully. “Why? Did she say something?”
I take off before I can answer. No matter what the hell happened—whoever the hell recorded that—I’m guessing it’s going to be used against Kennedy—against the entire Slade family.
By the time I hit Loveless, Kennedy’s SUV is already gone. I shoot her a quick text but no response.
My phone buzzes, but it’s not Kennedy’s name staring back at me, it’s Abel.
Listen asshole, next time why don’t you show up yourself. Sol let me know you sent your girlfriend to give him a little last minute comfort. And where the fuck are you anyway? Dad and I want to see your sorry ass at the courthouse Tuesday. We’re a family. It’s time to start acting like one.
“What the hell?” I put a call into Kennedy, and this time she answers.
“Hey, handsome! You like wild salmon or farmed? If your performance last night in bed is any indicator, I’m guessing wild, wild,wild. I think you even threw in some spawning action. Honestly, I think we should delay the kids by at least five years. What do you think of zucchini? Organic, of course. I’m not a sadist.”
“Kennedy, listen to me. Did you go see my brother?”
“What? See whose brother?” Her voice is cool, calm as if she were touching the produce, gauging whether or not it was ripe enough as we speak. And, as much as I’d love to know, I can’t tell if she’s fucking with me.
“Never mind. I need you to come home right away.”
“Did they find Keith?” Her voice is tight. Kennedy has been desperately upset at what his fate might be.
“No. I just—I need to see you. I miss you.” A pang of grief pinches through my gut. It’s true. I miss Kennedy. I miss the Kennedy of a few days ago who I would never have thought capable of something like this, not that I do now, but something is not adding up. Unless…. I glance around at the dark navy waters of the lake as if it held the very secrets I was so desperate for. Unless the girl posing as my girlfriend was young enough to pass for Kennedy, resembled Kennedy in some small way. Maybe she was hiding near the boathouse that night? Maybe, just maybe, one of Kennedy’s many friends has been anything but a friend—a wolf in sheep’s clothing all along. Somebody is out for Kennedy, and the profile they just built looks an awful lot like her.
“What do you mean—whatgirlfriendof mine do I think I could have pissed off?” It’s clear that the only one getting pissed is Kennedy.
She drove straight to the cabin, abandoning the groceries in her cart to speed the hell over.
“I’m saying which of your friends, your sorority sisters, might have an ax to grind? This is someone confident enough to try and pass herself off as you to my brother. Granted he’s never seen you, but it sounds as if she was banking on that, too.” My stomach knots up at what he might have told her.Fuckfuckfuck.“I got this CD in the mail. No return address—hand delivered in fact—it’s a voice recording of our conversation down by the boathouse the other night. It’s you condemning yourself for what you did to your father.”
Her face bleaches out, anemic as snow. “Oh, God.” She staggers toward the couch. Her reaction looks genuine, and for this I’m relieved. I’m pretty sure I can get a court order to show us the video from the visit with Sol, but that might take weeks. “That’s what he meant.” She gives a breathy laugh as if she’s at the brink of delirium. “My father called and said to prepare for a shit storm. He said, do yourself a favor and don’t turn on the television—said it had to do with his career, not to worry—it wasn’t about Keith.”
Kennedy fumbles with the remote, and before we know it Peter Slade’s close up is seventy inches wide. The wordsmessy divorcelingers at the bottom of the screen. The talking head is a bitter blonde who is known to slice and dice men on most occasions, but tonight she’s offering up the entire Slade family as an appetizer to the American people.
“Oh, hell.” Kennedy tosses the remote against the screen like a boomerang, and it bounces back in spite. She pulls me in by the shirt in one aggressive move until her nose is pressed against mine. “Who the hell is doing this to me?” Her fists pound into my chest. “And what the hell are they about to do to you?” Her voice breaks, her affect crumbles. “Tell me, Caleb.” Her hot breath mingles over mine. “How in the hell could this get any worse?”
Kennedy doesn’t saya word as I drive us down to the Morris Township County Correctional facility that houses my little brother. He has an approval for weekend visitors. The fact that today is Monday wouldn’t bode well for the average family member hoping for a quick sit-down with their incarcerated loved one, but I’m not your average family member—I’m an attorney who happens to be on his approved list of legal eagles, and I’ve signed Kennedy in as my aide.
Kennedy holds my hand with a strangled intensity as if we were meandering through a crowd of felons, but we’re far from it. It’s just the two of us, plus one very armed guard, walking down a long, steel hall. The echo of her heels only affirms this. We head over to the waiting area and are seated in an empty cafeteria while we wait for my brother to show. I haven’t seen Solomon in months. I’m angry about this, but he all but begged for me to stay away. I’m not entirely sure why I ever agreed. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, something incredibly wrong can seem incredibly right. It’s not until some serious time passed us both by—hard time for him—that the scales have fallen off and let me know what a shitty plan this was to begin with.
“Two days in a row, sweetheart?” He comes in from behind, his voice light and jovial. Typical Sol. I had the guard tell him it was just Kennedy.
We stand and turn around.
His features harden in an instant as he looks at her. “You changed your face.” He glances at me and smacks his lips. “And you brought a jackass along for the ride. I hope, for your sake, he gets good mileage.” He frowns before breaking out in a genuine grin. My grin.
We look alike. All three McCarthy brothers share the same dark hair, same shit-faced features. Not that we’re complaining. The girls never do. Sol was stealing Abel’s I.D. up until the day he turned twenty-one. I should have known then that leading a double life is something he’d strive to do. But I’m here to tell him the show is over. I’m not too interested in carrying on with this farce, sending him up the river on his own free will, and for what? His stupid pride? No thank you. Today I wash my hands of this, even though I realize the consequences will land my law degree in the incinerator. I’m fucked, Kennedy is fucked, Keith is probably very fucked, and Solomon, here, will walk away clean as a whistle. My mother always said he was what you would find at the end of a rainbow. Now I’m starting to believe it. I’m what you might find at the end of a bog. Muddied and covered in the slime of my own making. Disbarred, disowned by my old man, unable to save Kennedy, and, if that last part pans out to be true, I’ll be the first to fall on a blade. I thought something would become of me, and, instead, I’ve become of something.
“This is my girlfriend, Kennedy.” It feels very high school to use the term so casually when we haven’t quite used it in front of each other. It felt only slightly foreign coming from my lips. But it felt invasive as if I’ve shared something that should have been done in private first, where Kennedy could have giggled at the idea, and my mouth would have covered hers, assuring it was true. “The person you spoke to was an imposter. We need to know whatever you can tell us. Is there anything you remember about her? Her face? Her hair? Did she have any kind of accent?”
He slouches in his chair. His demeanor growing serious again as it damn well should. I’ve got his back—it’s the least he could do to have mine.
“Dude, what the hell is going on in your life?” He examines Kennedy like she’s a pariah.
“It’s complicated. Someone is after Kennedy, and, now, I’ve learned that someone came to see you claiming to be her. It’s disconcerting to say the least.”
His eyes widen. Solomon loses his gaze at some invisible horizon over my shoulder.
“Shit, shit, shit!” he shouts so loud the walls rattle, the guard runs in and subdues him.
