“I’m afraid so,” June said with a nod. “We’ve been lied to, and I know just how we’re going to get the truth.”
17
MARGO
Margo was in the middle of a dream so lovely she didn’t want to leave it.
The sun was warm on her skin, the water around them a clear blue-green, and the deck beneath her bare feet moved with that soft, easy rise only a calm sea could manage. Someone laughed behind her, low and familiar, and when she turned, Rad was there in a white shirt with the sleeves pushed back, one hand braced on the rail, the other holding out a glass of something cold and sparkling. His hair was wind-tossed, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and the look on his face made her stomach flutter in that ridiculous way it had started doing far too often lately.
She took the glass from him, and their fingers brushed.
The dream version of herself wasn't nervous. She didn’t overthink or second-guess. She simply smiled and leaned into the moment as the yacht drifted over the bright open water, and Rad said something she couldn’t quite hear but somehow understood anyway.
Then the sound came again.
Sharp. Loud. Wrong.
The scene cracked.
There was more banging. A voice calling her name. Then another. The sea vanished, the warmth vanished, and Margo came awake with the kind of violent confusion that made her heart slam before her eyes had even adjusted.
For a second, Margo didn't know where she was.
Then the familiar shape of her room came into view around her. She realized it was still a little dark, but early in the morning. The thin glow of predawn squeezed in along the small gaps in the curtains. Her eyes ran along the familiarity of things like the old chest at the foot of the bed, her sweater draped over the chair, and the dark face of her phone on the bedside table. Then the banging came again.
“Margo!” A rough, muffled voice echoed back at her.
She bolted upright. Her eyes widened, and her heart was hammering against her rib cage as she realized the banging wasn't part of the dream.
“Margo!” A female voice called, and she realized it was coming from her bedroom window.
She threw off the covers, stumbled to her feet, and crossed to the window, still heavy with sleep, her mind refusing to catch up to the urgency in the voices outside. When she pulled back the curtain, Rad and Willa stood below in the weak gray light, both looking up at her with enough concern on their faces to send a cold ripple through her.
“What the heck is going on?” Margo asked, pushing the window up. “What’s happened?”
“We’re here to ask you that!” Rad stated through the glass.
“What?” Margo asked, confused. “I don’t understand.”
“You messaged us,” Willa called back.
“Yes, it sounded urgent,” Rad told her, sounding a little breathless as he held up his phone. “Your message said, get here now.”
“What?” Margo frowned at her. “When?”
“About…” Rad glanced at his wrist, found it bare, then glanced at his phone screen. “Fifteen minutes ago.”
“Margo, what’s wrong?” Willa asked, her voice taking on a more urgent lilt now. “Is someone inside your house?”
“Huh?” Margo pinched her eyes shut and shook her head, wondering if she was still dreaming. When she opened her eyes, she was still standing in front of her bedroom window with two very concerned faces staring back at her.
“I didn’t message anyone.”
“This is from your number,” Willa said, holding up her phone and pushing it toward the glass. “See?”
Margo tilted her head to look at it. Yes, that was her number, but… “I never sent that.” She glanced back at her phone sitting right where she’d left it when she’d gone to sleep the night before. “I was asleep.”
Margo turned back to the window and stared at them.
