He frowns. Almost looks … hurt. “You don’t want to be seen with me?”
“I don’t want to be seen sneaking out of the darkened library with you,” I clarify. “That’s not the kind of impression I want to make the first time I’m at the Pembrokes’ home, at an event full of alumni.”
“I understand.” He kisses me again, but it’s brief. As if he understands the effect he has on my brain cells. “I’ll leave now and you’ll join me in a few minutes?”
I nod. Let him kiss me again because I’m weak. Then he turns and exits the room quickly. The door shuts behind him, and the only thing that lingers is the scent of his cologne.
Can’t believe the girls didn’t notice, but maybe they’re not Connor-obsessed like I am.
Ugh. I need to stop thinking like that.
Taking my chance now that I’m alone, I grab the picture of the girl and boy under the tree, turn it over, undo the clasps that keep the stand connected to the frame, and pull the actual photo out. Written on the back in perfect cursive is:George and Daphne, 1994.
George and Daphne. Probably siblings, based on their similar features.
I stuff the photo back into the frame and reassemble everything before returning it to the crowded ledge. I would love to stay here and study all the pictures, maybe figure out who the girl is and, by proxy, who the boy is. But I have to swing back around to the foyer where we entered and grab my bag from the hall closet. Sophia made me pack a swimsuit, since she said the likelihood we’d end up in the Pembrokes’ hot tub was high. She was right, which doesn’t surprise me at all, and I vow to find her and ensure she’s been invited to the hot tub, too. It’s what a friend would do.
Within seconds of leaving the library, I spot Peter and Whitney in the hallway, heading straight toward me, though their heads are close together and their gazes are trained low. I freeze in place, irritated with myself that I didn’t consider theywould be attending an alumni party.
“… and half these people think our daughter is amurderer. If they’re not whispering behind our backs, they’re outright staring at us. Not sure why we bothered coming to this.” Even though his voice is hushed, I can hear Peter’s irritation come through like he’s talking into a bullhorn.
“Daphne specifically said we should come tonight. She said there was no point in hiding because we have nothing to hide. Remember?”
“Hello, hi.” I rush toward them, putting on a bright smile. The sperm donor also known as Peter seems startled by my appearance, as does Whitney. “Did you say Daphne?”
“Well, hello Belinda.” Whitney’s smile seems genuine, which helps me ignore the scowl on Peter’s face. “So lovely to see you.”
My manners fly out the window. I’m too focused on the name she just said. “Who’s Daphne?”
“Daphne Pembroke. Freddie’s mother? We were in the same graduating class,” Whitney explains.
“And that was in …”
“2001. Three years after your father—I mean, your parents—graduated.” Whitney blinks rapidly, and I swear Peter’s scowl deepens.
What was that all about?
“HOT TUB!” someone screams. “Come on, everybody!” “We can’t be seen chatting like this, Belinda.” Peter’s dismissive words cut me to the bone. The next second, they’re pushing past me—or rather, Peter is pulling Whitney past me, and she’s offering me a small, apologetic smile as she lets herself get dragged away.
I’m too distracted by this new discovery to get as annoyed as I should be at Peter’s shitty attitude. If I’m right and the two people in the photo I spotted are related, then Daphne Pembroke is a sister or cousin to the boy my mom was involved with during her time at Wickham.
I’m not entirely sure what to make of that, but maybe a soothing soak in the hot tub will help me figure it out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ihide away in a small guest bathroom after my encounter with Peter and Whitney, hating how shaky they made me feel. Our interaction couldn’t have lasted more than a minute or two, but it replays in my mind a dozen times while I’m changing into a black bathing suit I borrowed from Sophia. Whitney was perfectly lovely despite Peter acting like his normal, sour self. I guess I can understand why he was upset. His so-called friends are treating him differently after what happened with Isla and her best friend. And while that sucks, I get why people suspect Isla in Emily’s murder. Right now, the evidence points to the two of them being alone on that cliffside before Emily died. Without any proof to the contrary, what are people supposed to believe?
Maybe if dear old Peter wasn’t such an asshole all the time, people would be kinder to him. Though come to think of it, I have no idea how he treats other people. He might be a veritable Santa Claus to everyone who isn’t his estranged daughter.
Pushing all thoughts of my father aside, I focus on the information Whitney provided. Daphne is related to George. George was involved with my mother. Daphne is Freddie Pembroke’s mother. Both Mr. and Mrs. Pembroke seem to know Connor pretty well, maybe because Mr. Wells worked for the Lumateg Group? The Pembrokes seemed really supportive of Connor earlier tonight, but the call I overheard between Headmaster Harrington and the mysterious William proves that someone wants Connor out of the picture. I need to pump Connor for more information, but I can’t be obvious about it. He went on the defensive when I mentioned the llamas last night, and he was drunk as a skunk then. Sober Connor might have an even lower tolerance for my snooping. And speaking of Connor …
He’s an excellent kisser—and an excellent distraction. I should focus on the task at hand, and instead, I’m thinking about when we can find some alone time again.
Nice job, Billie. Instead of figuring out who tried to unalive Isla, you’re worrying about the next time you get to shove your tongue down some hot boy’s throat. A-plus sister behavior.
My conscience puts my hormones in a time-out to think about what they’ve done.
After I’ve washed my hands and run my fingers through my hair, I march out of the bathroom and walk through the house like I know where I’m going. I’m constantly searching everyone’s faces in the hope that one of them will be Connor, but he’s nowhere to be found.
