“Not easily, no.” Ash shrugs. “It’s not that I’m never scared. But I don’t let myself show it. What would be the point? And also… Fuck that,” she whispers with a small smile that hints at a multitude of secrets. The girl is an enigma. “Anyway, forget about Crosby and your dickhead brother. Listen, I was getting claustrophobic in the dorm room.” That explains what she was doing sitting outside. “Want to go get a drink somewhere, Seesaw?”
“I don’t have a fake ID.”
“Me neither. Can’t figure out where I lost it.” She licks her lips thoughtfully and looks at her oversized handbag. “It’s fine though. I never get a chance to buy my own drinks anyway.”
I don’t doubt that. The thing is… I can’t afford to get caught drinking while I’m underage. Brad’s nasty reminder that I’m a second-class member of the family is an implied threat. Anything he catches me doing will be reported back.
Also, Ash has shady armed guys after her and her friends. Also, I don’t want to talk about what I was doing at her cousin’s house just now, which is bound to come up.
Extracting my arm from hers, I say, “You know, I think I’m going to stay in.”
She slows, glancing over at me. I expect her to ask how things went with Clare. And what I found out from talking to Jamie. Instead, she shrugs with a friendly smile. “Okay. Glad you feel better.”
“Thanks.” Warmth burns in my cheeks. Has she guessed the reason I’m feeling better is because I got laid? With a jolt, I realize I’ve haven’t obsessed over Clare Duffy’s disapproval once since I fell into bed with Jamie. Logically, I know Briar Club membership is still crucial for me, but that’s not how it feels at the moment.
Ash opens an app that has a map with a twirling red car in the center. Apparently, Ash has a “find my Camaro” app on her phone.Nice.Since it’s vintage and pre-dates smart technology, I guess she installed her own GPS.
“All right, I’m off,” she says.
“Are you sure you want to go out alone? That’s not the safest.”
She smiles and gives me a firm hug. “Night, Sawyer.”
“Be careful,” I call out as she strolls toward the parking lot. She raises a hand in acknowledgement before disappearing into the dark.
12
JAMIE
On Saturday morning, I’m getting ready to leave town when my phone rings with a call from Ireland.
I’d been on the hunt for an Irish cop willing to do favors for money and finally got a name.
Having already hacked the local police’s computer system years ago to look at the file on my brother’s case, I’d assumed there’d been no real investigation. But I recently learned that while details in the electronic record are sparse, there could be a lot more on paper.
I swipe to answer the call. “Hello?”
“O’Rourke, is it you?” The accent makes me homesick.
“It is, yeah. Find anything?”
The cop is in his thirties. He was new to the force at the time of the incident with my brother. Although he never heard about the case at the time, he has access to the case file.
“Yeah, I found the file. It’s got interview notes and some printed reports that weren’t entered electronically. But even in the paper records, there’s nothing concrete to point the finger at anyone.” The sound of papers shuffling comes through the line, as though he’s thumbing through the file as we speak. “I did find out why the case was designated as closed.”
My body tenses. Any mention of the fact that local law enforcement closed the file on my brother’s assault makes me want to gun down the asshole who led the investigation.
“It was actually not their idea to stop the inquiry.” He pauses, implying I should brace myself. “Your da wouldn’t let them talk to your brother or you. He said it was a misunderstanding. The local detective wanted to force your family to turn over the clothes for evidence, but the crown prosecutor wasn’t of a mind to push forward. He thought the parent’s wishes should be the priority, especially as it seemed like it was a foreigner who did whatever happened and he’d likely left afterward.”
If my father was in front of me right now, I might shove him against a wall and pummel him. That old school way of thinking—pretend it never happened, don’t think about it, move on with your life—directly contributed to Jude’s death.
I followed my father’s orders to never talk about it, even when Jude tried to bring it up. I trusted it would be better for my brother in the long run. But all the gag order really did was leave Jude to face his nightmares alone.
Our refusal to talk didn’t help him forget what happened. The things he wrote and drew in a secret notebook he kept under a loose piece of carpet were proof that, despite our silence, the memories of that day never left him.Never.
“I understand.” My voice is surprisingly level. “My father thought it was best to sweep it under the rug.” Irony has a cruel sense of humor since that’s exactly where the memories ended up.
No words pass between us for a moment.
