She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The wind tugged at her cardigan. "We’re selling the house. Daniel and I can't stay. Too many memories."
"Where will you go?"
"Chicago. Near my sister in Rosemont."
Apollo bounded up to her, offering his head to Vivienne, who stroked his snout. "Leah loved this dog. She would come home smelling like wet fur."
"My old paper asked me to write about what happened here," I said. "A book. They have interest from several publishers. If you're willing, I'd like you to help me tell Leah's story right. I won't do it if you disapprove."
It was the only thing I knew how to do. I couldn't bring Leah back, I couldn't undo what happened on that bluff, but Icould make sure people remembered her as more than a tragedy. As a girl who loved art, dogs, and her friends. As someone who mattered.
Her eyes found mine. "I know you'll tell the truth."
We stood together with the waves rippling behind us, the sun rising high in the cloudless sky. She looked out at the water. The lines around her eyes had deepened.
"I don't blame you, Mia," Vivienne said. "I want you to know that. What you did was a mistake with grave consequences, but Rowan took my daughter away from me, not you."
Mia made a sound like a sob in the back of her throat. "I think about her every day. I miss her every day."
"So do I." She reached out and touched Mia's arm. "I find comfort knowing Leah had a real friend. Someone who loved her."
The simple grace of it cracked something open in Mia. She bowed her head, shoulders shaking as she wept. I slipped an arm around her, felt the tremor pass through both of us.
Vivienne resumed walking. Her slight figure grew smaller against the glittering horizon as the wind kicked up, ballooning her cardigan like wings.
We watched her until the distance softened her into the shoreline, while Apollo cannoned into the shallows and barked at his reflection with bemused delight. Gulls skated the updrafts over our heads, flecks of white against the cobalt blue.
"It's still beautiful here," Mia said.
"It is." I slid my hand into hers. We stood that way, not speaking, until the sun warmed the tops of our feet.
"Ready?" I asked.
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and looked toward the stairs, then at me. "Yeah."
We turned toward the bluff. The stairs creaked under us. Halfway up, Apollo paused to look back the way we'd come, tongue lolling, ears forward, and then tugged onward, eager for home.
At the top of the staircase, the yellow caution tape flapped in the breeze. I rested my palm on the weathered railing, felt the heat of the sunbaked wood, and held on.
The night of the Fall
Moonlight splinters across Lake Michigan, transforming the water's surface into a rippling silver tapestry. From the edge of the bluff, the 100-foot drop to the beach below vanishes into darkness.
Chloe Westinghouse inhales deeply, savoring the fresh night air, the glimmer of the moon. A perfect night for secrets.
She positions herself several calculated steps from the precipice, the distance measured with the precision of an architect. The Italian silk of her Valentino dress whispers against her calves as the lake breeze lifts her blonde hair into a pale halo.
"I can't believe you," Mia says, her voice splintering like thin ice. "I thought you were my friend, Leah. How could you do this?"
Chloe suppresses the smile twitching at her lips. She watches Mia's face contort with rage and betrayal, emotions so raw they're almost vulgar. Between them, Leah shifts her weight, her chubby body silhouetted against the glittering lake far below, her heels close to the bluff's ragged edge directly behind her, where Chloe has positioned her for the last photo.
The trap has sprung. The pieces move across Chloe's mental chessboard with satisfying inevitability. It almost seems too easy.Chloe studies the trembling line of Leah's acne-studded shoulders, the nervous flutter of her hands, her darting, too-big eyes.
Leah Cho is so frantic to belong that she'd cut her own heart out if Chloe asked her to.
The memory of their earlier conversation crystallizes in Chloe's mind with perfect clarity. She'd cornered Leah in the upstairs bathroom, surrounded by marble countertops, gold fixtures, and gleaming tile. The other girls were downstairs, putting on heels, glitter, gauzy dresses, and finalizing their hair and makeup for the photoshoot.
"You want in, don't you?" Chloe asked as she reapplied her lip gloss. "For real this time?"
