Was Alex a cheater?she had written in small, cramped handwriting. At the end of the chapter, she had left a Post-it that read,Nick? Suspect #1,and underlined the words three times. I blinked. Funny for her to use the termsuspect. But at least she was interpreting the story exactly as I meant it.
Why wouldn’t Nick be a suspect? This random guy had waltzed into Alex’s life only a few weeks before she was killed. I’d tried finding him on Facebookwhen I was writing the book but had had no luck. There were a thousand Nicks and Nicholases from Wellington, and none of them ever looked quite right.
I took out my laptop and started another search. Same as all the times before, I typed in his name, “Wellington High School,” and likely birth years. This time, I discovered that some of the local high schools were now using AI to upload their yearbook archives. I put aside my personal feelings on the technology and signed up for Classmates.com, shelling out $49.99 for the 2008, 2009, and 2010 records, but my searches pulled up nothing new. I put in some last-minute queries and slammed my laptop shut, frustrated.
My phone rang abruptly. A familiar number flashed across the screen.
“Hello?” I answered quickly.
“Hello,” the automated voice said, as it had a thousand other times in my life. “This is a prepaid call fromWilliam Dearling.” Will’s voice was stiff on the recording.
The automated voice continued: “ … an inmate at the Miami Correctional Facility. To accept charges, press two—”
I scrambled to press the button. It took a few seconds for the call to connect. I gripped my phone, used to the scratchy noise that always accompanied these calls.
“Rosie?”Will’s voice came through.
“Hey, Will.”
I heard him sigh, a sound of relief. “I’msoglad you answered,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of someone all day. How’s Hazel? Did you find her?”
A pit formed in the bottom of my stomach. I hadn’t been sure if Will knew about all of this. I had been hoping we would find her before I had to call and fill him in.
“No,” I said quickly, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry. We haven’t heard anything yet. How did you find out?”
Will let out a breath. “I almost didn’t,” he said, more bitterly than usual. Will had a surprisingly detached, calm demeanor, despite his situation, which was so him. He always did the right thing even in the most unfair circumstances.
“Nobody back home told me. Not that I expected any differently. But some detectives came by and asked if Hazel had been to visit.”
I flushed. Having him find out from the cops was a choice I wouldn’t have made. But I ignored my discomfort, too distracted by the fact that Will had spoken to detectives.
“Did they question you?” I asked, sitting up straight. “Did you call Walter? They can’t talk to you without him there.”
Walter Durham was the lawyer I’d hired to handle Will’s appeals. He was sleazy and always put his hand dangerously low on my back when we got into an elevator, but he was good at what he did. A shark.
“Rose, it was fine,” Will cut me off. “They just asked me if I’d heard from her lately. It wasn’t anything like that.”
“Right. Because they have such a great track record of being upfront with you,” I huffed.
There was silence on the other end of the phone. I knew we were both thinking about those days of police interrogation that turned into weeks of harassment. He and our family were hounded by reporters and police until he was arrested.
“I don’t want to talk about that now,” Will said firmly. “I want to talk about Hazel. Are you back home?”
That was classic Will. He didn’t care about his own well-being; he only wanted to be a good brother to Hazel. He’d done the same when it was Alexmissing. All he’d cared about was finding out whatreallyhappened to her. He practically threw himself on the police’s sword.
I paused, took another deep breath. How could I tell him there was nothing? That I had been here for a whole day and had no more information than when Tommy first called me? There was my book … but I didn’t know what to do with that information.
“Please, I don’t know how much time I have on the call,” Will begged. “Update me. Tell me anything.”
“We don’t know a lot yet,” I admitted. “I haven’t seen anyone since last night. They went out searching this morning without me.”
“Damn it,” Will said. I heard the pain in his voice.
“I know,” I said. “I went to McCullough Farm today. Trying to retrace her steps. Mr. McCullough told me she’s been withdrawn lately. Did you notice that? I don’t know when you spoke to her last.”
Hazel rarely visited Will. It was a trek, and she always had to borrow a car or find a sympathetic ride. My father wasn’t usually inclined to give her either. But I knew she wrote and called him from time to time. Hazel had always been surprisingly neutral on the subject of his innocence. Will had admitted to me that their relationship was pretty surface level because of it. She’d been too young when he was convicted. She didn’t have happy, normal memories with him.
“You know, she called me last week,” Will said, his tone weird.
