He nods. “Shit, you’re right. Let’s head back.”
I stand and we walk back out to the kayak. If I do help Miles, he might be able to figure out what happened to Nate. I don’t want to tell him about Easton, though, because he might say in his podcastthat Easton’s lie is the reason Nate was kidnapped. It doesn’t matter either way, though. Nate would have disappeared regardless of whether Easton told them he was at JT’s or the fort. So if I can protect him from Miles—and guarantee that Miles will leave him out of his podcast—maybe I can help him get closure another way.
Miles knows more about the case than I do, and he’s obviously a great investigator, so maybe he’ll have an idea of where I should start.
In exchange for his silence and help.
Because Easton has given me a good getaway plan. The police aren’t watching the bay like they’re watching the street.
Once I’m back up to my room, I text Miles.
Okay. Where do we start?
Twenty
My first weekend with the Beaumonts, they take me to the quaint main street of town. I expect people to stare—watching the family they all whispered about and the son everyone thought they had murdered—but no one even looks twice at us.
Saturday night, Easton goes out again with JT. He offers to bring me along in front of Valencia, who immediately blanches at the idea, then looks relieved when I say no thank you.
Instead, I invite Miles over and we hang out on the deck, where we’re safe from Valencia or Marcus eavesdropping. I still don’t want to tell him about Easton’s lie. It’s not important, and I kind of feel a bond with Easton now. Maybe he’s trying to make up for lost time, but he’s always checking in with me, asking how I’m doing, asking if I remember anything yet. And on more than one occasion, he’s asked if there’s anything he can do to help.
Thanks for making me feel even guiltier, Easton.
“Have you learned anything new?” Miles asks once we’re sure we’re alone. He still keeps his voice low.
I shake my head. “I haven’t really had a chance to talk to either of them one-on-one. They want to do everything as a family.” I’m acting annoyed, but in reality I’m more than okay with it. For one,it means whoever broke in the other day can’t get me alone—yes, it obviously could be one of the family, but again, we’re not alone so, yay, safety in numbers. And the supersecret menu item: I enjoy hanging out with the Beaumonts.
Miles nods. “Do you know what you’re going to ask them?”
“What they remember about my disappearance. I start therapy on Tuesday, so I’m going to ask if they remember anything I should talk about.”
“Hmm.” He seems to be considering whether that will work.
“Well, give me some pointers, then. You’re the true crime nut.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Why not?”
He scoffs. “Because it sounds like I have a problem.”
“I mean, you might. I don’t know your life.”
“Fair point. I preferaficionado.”
I can’t help but laugh because this whole thing is ridiculous, if I’m being honest. I’m sitting on my fake parents’ back deck talking with the only person who knows I’m not really Nate, planning an investigation that I have no idea where to start.
“Enough, get serious.” Though I don’t really want to. Miles joking with me makes this all feel a little like pretend. Like we’re just two kids sitting on the deck playing some game and my life isn’t in constant, imminent danger. Because Miles has to be scared, too, right? If he’s seen with me enough, the killer might start watching him, too.
“I am serious. True crime aficionado until I decide if I want to become a private eye or investigative journalist.”
“That’s what you want to do with your life?”
He shrugs. “I mean, private investigatorsoundslike fun, but according to the internet it’s ninety percent sitting in a car taking pictures of people walking in and out of motels. I don’t think I can be trusted to keep myself entertained.”
“What about a photographer?” I ask.
“That’s just a hobby. I’m not actually good.” I open my mouth to correct him but he holds a hand up to stop me. “My mom embarrasses me enough with the encouragement as it is.”
