On monday after work, I’min the kitchen reading Naomi’s notebook when Nate and Dani get home. She runs up to me and gives me a hug. “Oh, hi there.” She smells sweet and in her hands is a small pack of gummy bears. “What did I say about sugar before dinner?”
I shoot Nate a look, and he shrugs. “Wasn’t me.”
I turn to him as Dani runs off to the living room. “They’re letting them eat sugar this late in the day?”
Dani is on the couch looking through Nate’s iPad for a show to watch, and without looking up from the screen, she says, “The man at school said I could have them.” We’d signed her up for an expensive Montessori summer school that had promised to feed them only low-sugar, healthy snacks.
My eyes meet Nate’s and he shakes his head in a gesture that saysDon’t blame me.
I’m about to ask her which of the supervisors gave them to her when my phone’s sharp clang on the counter makes me jump. The caller ID readsMargaret St. Clair.
“Maya, we need to have a chat,” she says when I answer. “About the funeral…”
With a flash, I remember my horrifying breakdown and feel heat rise to my cheeks. Nate and Dani and I hadn’t stuck around after the service; I hadn’t wanted to have to justify my eulogy to everyone. “Look, about what happened—I’m so sorry…”
“Absolutely not,” she says, and for a moment I think she’s going to scold me. But instead she lowers her voice. “You were so right, what you said up there,” she says. “I’ve contacted the authorities. Applied a bit of pressure.”
She believes me.I tighten my grip on my phone. “Can I ask…When was the last time Naomi was home? I found a notebook…” I’m not sure why I don’t tell her it was hidden, but I keep that detail to myself. “I’m going to bring it to the police.”
“She came home for spring break— Sorry, you found…what was it? A notebook?”
“I don’t understand it yet, but it looks like she was researching something for a reporter atThe New York Times…and—” I hesitate, unsure whether to tell her about Greystone, about Lila, but decide against it. “And it looks like she was investigating Matthew DuPont.”
“Well, he’s neck-deep in malpractice, so I would imagine there would be plenty to investigate. Do you think that had something to do with her death?”
“There’s nothing definitive, yet…it’s just— It’s a gut feeling…but yes, I think he may have hurt her.”
Margaret is silent, and I fear she’s going to tell me I’m crazy, but when she speaks again her voice is full of hate. “We’re going to find out who did this to your sister and make sure they don’t get away with it.”
—
Later that eveningonce we’ve put Dani to bed, I find Nate in the living room. I’m about to mention what I discovered in Naomi’s notebook when I see the look on his face.
“What is it?” I sit down next to him and follow his eyes to the TV. A news anchor and my sister’s image fill the screen.
“New autopsy results led authorities to designate the case a murder investigation. The case is still developing.”
Nate shakes his head, mouth open in disbelief.
My hands go numb as my sister’s image is replaced by one of Margaret. An interview.
“Please, if anyone has information. We need your help.” Her eyes are filled with emotion. Not sadness, but something else. Something closer to fury.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Maya
February 2012
It was rave night atSterling Club, and everyone was there except me. I was exhausted, lying in bed with a pillow over my head, on the verge of sleep, when a door slammed, jerking me awake. I sighed and glanced at the clock—one forty-fivea.m.
My phone buzzed. A text from Daisy—Maya, get over here, quick. Something’s wrong with Lila.
—
My lungs burnedas I sprinted to the street, and when I arrived at Sterling Club, the walls were pulsing with electronic music and strobe lights. My coat was soaked from the rain as I looked for Lila. I felt it in my bones:Something was wrong.
The ballroom was hazy, filled with a mix of sweat and steam. A fog machine blasted the dance floor, and by the DJ booth, Cecily and Theodore Hunt were dancing. She was a wisp of silver in her bikini and tiny skirt, one arm wrapped behind his neck.
