In it, I see something I hadn’t noticed before.
Reese bears a slight resemblance to Kylie. It’s nothing glaring, but it’s in the long, wavy hair and green eyes—though Reese is older, of course, her features more mature, the cheekbones more prominent, with less baby fat, and her lips more full.
“She looks like Reese,” I say, wondering if this is the same niggling thought I had about the family portrait in the living room, that vaguely familiar, elusive thing my mind couldn’t quite reach. I swing back around, turning to face Sam and Joanna. “She’s lovely,” I say quickly. “But in this picture, something about her looks like Reese to me. The hair, maybe, or her eyes.”
Joanna glances at Sam, saying something under her breath that I don’t catch.
“Excuse me?”
Joanna looks at me. “I said that must be his type.”
My stomach tightens. There is a bad taste in my mouth.
Maybe Kylie and Reese weren’t chosen at random.
Maybe Daniel has a weakness for girls like them.
Joanna’s voice is desperate, her eyes wide as she says, “The police need to find him, Courtney. He needs to pay for what he did to our girls.”
Reese
That night, Emily organizes a family baseball game.
“Everyone plays. No one is exempt,” she says, before I can even protest.
I go through the motions. I put on my shoes. I follow everyone else—Emily, Nolan, Wyatt and Mae—blindly out of the cottage, though I fall immediately behind, not keeping pace. Mae looks back, teases, “Hurry up, slowpoke,” before turning and running down the hill to Cass, who waits up ahead, beside her own cottage with Aunt Courtney and Uncle Elliott.
Uncle Elliott.
He’s looking off into the distance at first. When he knows we’re coming, he turns to look at us. He gazes sideways at me out of the corner of his eye like he doesn’t know where to look, like he’s trying hard to act normal. I don’t buy it. I see the tension in his jaw, the way his chin is lifted and his posture stiff. I somehow managed to avoid him all day because he never came to the pool, because Aunt Courtney said he had a migraine, which came as a surprise to everyone. No one knew he ever got migraines.
“How are you feeling?” Emily asks, reaching them first.
“Better,” he says.
Mae takes Cass by the hand. They run off ahead. Everyoneelse follows, trying to keep up, except for Uncle Elliott, who lingers behind.
“You coming?” Aunt Courtney asks, reaching out to him, her smile warm and her eyes kind.
“You go ahead. I thought I’d wait for Reese to catch up.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say as I reach him.
He says nothing to that. Instead, he asks, “Can we talk?” as we start to walk. He’s anxious. Up close, there is tension on his face, his skin red, one of his eyes bloodshot. He rubs at the back of his neck. He doesn’t wait for me to say if we can talk. Instead, he says, “I want to talk to you about last night.”
There is an air of desperation in his voice, which is strained.
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” I say, not looking at him but keeping my eyes ahead where the gap widens, everyone else walking fast to catch up with Mae and Cass, who run.
In nothing flat, he reaches out to grab my arm when no one’s looking, his hand a death grip. He stops me. He forces me to turn and look at him, the pressure in my arm throbbing.
“Stop playing games with me, Reese. We need to talk.”
I pull my arm away. “Get your fucking hands off me, you creep.”
I don’t raise my voice. No one hears because they’re too far up ahead to hear, but still, I see the fear crop up on his face.
I’ll tell them that you were being inappropriate. That you touched me.
