“Got it.”
“Put on your good person face.” He smiles like it’s so simple.
I take a deep breath and try to do the same.
Easton’s mask cracks again. “Do better.”
It’s acting. I have to go back to before I knew the truth, and be that version of Nate. I can do that. I’ve been acting like him for weeks.
I settle my face. It’s not a smile, but my eyes are a little more open and I have—what I imagine is—a look of calm. Easton eyes me, and he seems impressed.
“Good enough.”
He gets out, and I follow him into the house.
Forty
Miles has texted me several times since last night, asking if I want to hang out or “plot,” which is his euphemism for both planning my escape and looking for more evidence to prove Marcus killed Nate.
But Easton has been home all day, lurking around the house as if he thinks I’m going to call the police. So I ignore the texts for as long as I can, but when I haven’t answered by the time he gets out of school, Miles gets more persistent. I finally text him back while Easton is distracted by a phone call.
Let’s talk tonight, is all I say. His reply is instantaneous.
That sounds super ominous, Deborah, what’s going on?But I don’t answer.
Valencia comes home from work first and I put on my pretend happy face. It only falters when Easton comes down to the kitchen.
Valencia looks over at him and points. “How did you eat awholejar of peanut butter? I just bought it on Saturday.” Her face drops. “What’s wrong?”
When Easton looks up, his eyes are red and glassy. “I got a call from JT’s mom.”
Shit. They found him. My own legs feel a little weak. I walk rightover to the kitchen table—trying to get some distance from Easton and Valencia. I don’t want her to see my face if I can’t keep it detached from what really happened last night.
She walks around and puts her arm around her son. “Honey, what is it?”
“He fell,” he says, his voice breaking. “He was up at the overlook smoking.”
Valencia gasps. She puts her hands to her mouth.
“They found him this morning. He must have slipped when it started to rain and fell over the cliff.”
“Oh my God, honey.” Valencia wraps her arms around him.
It’s a sweet moment. But it’s all fake, and it’s chilling to see. And I finally understand how he’s gotten away with this for so long. He’s perfected this fake Easton he’s been playing. Like the night he apologized for “giving up on me.” I really believed him then, and his mom really believes him now.
“Can I borrow the car?” he asks. “A few of us are getting together for a sort of memorial because his parents are doing a private funeral.”
Probably because they can’t have an open casket since you bashed their son’s head in.
“Of course, sweetie.” She hands him the keys and he leaves, telling her he’ll be home a little late.
With Easton gone to show his fake mourning, it means I can go over to Miles’s and tell him... I don’t know what yet. I can’t tell him the truth about Easton. That would put him and his parents in danger. Unless I have real proof, to everyone else, I’ll just be the liar who took Nate’s identity.
I also have to figure out how to tell him I’m not going to help him with his podcast anymore, and just hope he won’t tell anyone the truth about me. He said before that he wouldn’t, but that could change if he gets pissed.
Halfway through Valencia and me making dinner, Marcus comes home. He kisses her hello, and she tells him about JT. He seems genuinely shocked, but I can’t help but wonder if that’s where Easton learned it from. I still can’t shake the feeling that Easton couldn’t have acted alone. And if Marcusisshocked, it might be because he’s scared his son is killing again.
After dinner I text Miles to meet me at the fence.
