I nodded my thanks and drove past the security gates, then headed west on Cliff Harbor Drive. Inside the gates, the neighborhood felt different from before, like we were being watched from every direction.
The Cromwell's front door opened and two small faces peered out. Mrs. Cromwell appeared behind her twins, saw our car, and pulled them inside. The door slammed shut.
"Great," I muttered. "The rumor mill is in overdrive."
Mia sank lower in her seat. "They're all gonna hate me. Everyone at school. Everyone here."
"Let them think what they want." The words came out sharper than I had intended. I softened my voice. "We know the truth. That's what matters."
But even as I spoke the words, doubt gnawed at me.
Did we know the truth?
At the community playground, the swings sat empty and forlorn. The rain lightened to a soft sprinkle.
I kept my eyes forward. Almost home. Almost safe.
We passed Whitney's house, then Camille's. As we approached our house, I spotted Alexis at the foot of our driveway, in front of our mailbox.
The hood of her sweatshirt was cinched over her head, obscuring her face. She watched us approach, then lifted her phone and aimed it at our windshield.
The sleeve of Alexis's sweatshirt slipped down as she raised herphone, revealing a bruise on her wrist. Deep purple. Circular. As if someone had grabbed her arm hard.
I blinked, looked again. It was still there.
Alexis lowered the phone and waved. The bruise disappeared beneath her sleeve. The smile that spread across her face was slow, deliberate. Something cold in it.
"Do you see that?" Mia asked, her voice ragged. "She's taking pictures. Of us."
"Yeah, I see her."
"She knows those reporters are out there. She's going to send them the photos. Or worse, post them on… " Her voice trailed off.
"Post them where?"
"Never mind."
My stomach sank. "Alexis is your friend. Why would she do that?"
"Ugh, Mom. Whatever gets her more likes, okay? She pretends she hates her mom, but they're the same like that. That's all she cares about."
I forced my foot to stay steady on the gas pedal, to refrain from slamming on the brakes, rolling down the window, and demanding Alexis delete the pictures she'd just taken.
It wouldn't matter. The damage was already done.
What I really wanted to do was to ask her a few pointed questions about that suspicious bruising. Had the police seen it? They must have. "Did you know Alexis has a bruised wrist?"
"I dunno, Mom. What does it matter? Just let it go, okay?"
Alexis stalked down the street toward Driftwood Terrace and her house. I bit my lip. What if that bruise was from Leah? What if Leah had grabbed Alexis as she fell? Was Brooke's daughter the one who pushed Leah? And why did it look like Alexis had been walking down our driveway when we'd turned the corner?
Questions swirled in my mind. But I wouldn't get them answered right now, so I forced myself to let Alexis go, like Mia wanted. As she disappeared around the corner, I pulled into our gravel driveway.
The cottage sat dark and silent. Beyond the bluff, the lake had disappeared in the spitting rain, the horizon blurred, as if the edge of the cliff was the edge of the world itself.
From our cottage, I couldn't see Rowan's house. But I could imagine it blazing with light, every window glowing. I could picture it perfectly: the mothers clustered around Rowan's marble island, wine glasses in hand, voices low and urgent as they discussed the latest rumors surrounding the case.
I killed the engine. The tick of the cooling motor broke the silence. "Once the police find out what really happened, this will go away."
