“No,” she said, interrupting him. “We made sure.”
“I know we did. But if we leave now, it’ll look suspicious. I promise, I’ll make it up to you once everything dies down.”
They went quiet and Penelope raised her eyebrows at me, as if to ask what I thought they were doing. I shifted enough to glance around the corner. He had her pushed up against the building.
I grabbed Penelope’s hand, and we quickly moved back to the path. “They were making out back there.”
“Ew.”
“Yeah, I wish I could unsee that.”
“I have so many questions right now,” she said as we walked. “They’re the ones having an affair?”
“It looks like it.”
“I wonder if they were the ones having an affair all along, and Amanda was never with Edwin.”
“Or she went for the son after the father died.”
Pen winced. “Could be. But what was Michael talking about when he said he thinks someone knows? He couldn’t have meant the bodies that were found?”
“I don’t see how he’d know about that, unless he’s got a friend in the sheriff’s office or something. They’re not even investigating his father.”
“Whatever he was talking about, Amanda was in on it.”
Our eyes met and I knew we were thinking the same thing. Did they kill Michael’s father? Was the murderer also a victim?
Maybe we’d been right all along, and Morris’s death had been foul play.
My vision shimmered around the edges, and I blinked a few times, hoping it would go away. A spasm of pain hit me out ofnowhere, shooting up my neck and radiating across the back of my head.
“Shit,” I mumbled, grabbing the back of my neck.
“Are you okay?”
I blinked again, but it was coming on fast. “Not really.”
“Is it a migraine?”
“Yeah.”
She put her hand on my chest. “Let’s get you home. I’ll drive.”
“No, I can…” I trailed off. It felt like someone was jamming an ice pick into the back of my skull.
“I got it.” She took the bag of kettle corn and slipped her hand into mine. “Let’s go.”
With my vision starting to blur and the pain making me nauseated, I went with Pen to my truck, and she drove me home.
CHAPTER 32
Theo
The frustration of missing school—andespecially practice—ate at me.I’d been hoping I’d sleep off the worst of the migraine overnight, but when my alarm went off Monday morning, it was clear I wasn’t going anywhere for a while.
Pen had checked on me before she left, softly touching my forehead and asking if I needed anything. I was used to handling them on my own, so I assured her I’d be fine in a few hours. Maybe even make it in by lunch.
Unfortunately, I’d taken a turn for the worse around eleven and I’d spent the next several hours in bed.
