Sisk looks at me, then she smiles, sweet as anything.
“Twenty blissful years,” Dad says.
I catch the twitch in my mom’s cheek.Blissful is a fucking cosmic joke.
“Oh,” Sisk says, her voice dripping with false innocence. “I’m sorry—I was never great with dates. But doesn’t that put your graduation in the year of… you know… the Knotted-Hair-Girl disappearance?”
Mom coughs and I make sure to look at my father for his reaction, but he doesn’t seem bothered at all. He just takes another sip of wine.
“Cynthia and Anne were actually best friends,” he says between bites. “Horrible tragedy. We both took it very hard.”
“I’m so sorry. I can imagine,” Sisk says lightly. “And they never really found her? Cynthia?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “There were theories, of course. Too many, frankly. Police followed every thread they could, but no resolution. Some things… just happen.”
“No suspects?” Sisk presses, leaning forward just a little.
“Everyone’s talking about it again,” I say to help her. “Saying it’s been twenty years, like it’s due to happen again.”
My mother dabs her mouth with her napkin. “Absurd.”
“Anne—” Dad warns.
“They’re old enough,” she snaps. “It’s about time we tell him.”
“Tell me what, Mom?” I ask nicely like I’m ok with all this.
She looks at me. Then at Sisk. “Cynthia deserved what happened.”
“What?” I set my utensils down with a clatter. “You know what happened to her?”
Oliver steps in like he’s on cue, ready to clear the plates. We let him, as suddenly no one is interested in the food.
“Cynthia wanted money,” my mother says. “She envied me and Daniel. We were friends, but she always made sure to mention how what he had was better. The car. The house. The name.” She picks up her wine again. “I didn’t blame her for wanting more. But when her family’s rendering plant suddenly burned down and the insurance money cleared… she acted like it was luck. Well. That wasn’t luck.”
Sisk doesn’t blink. “You’re saying she bargained?”
My mother meets her eyes. “Yes. And when the stains didn’t clear from her fingers, she panicked. Tried to back out. She even tried to give the money away. Donations and donations. Begged for help.” She sets the glass down. “But by then it was too late. Once you make a deal…” She shrugs, a small, dismissive gesture. “It’s done.”
“Dad?” I look at him.
He nods once, his expression grim. “She came to us after. Shaking. Rambling about what she gave up. What it asked for. Said she’d thrown her locket into the pit first—just a token. But that it wanted more. She said she heard a voice.” He glances at my mother. “The next day, the little girl next door was gone. Three years old. Everyone blamed the father—he’d done time, had a record, was halfway to jail already.”
He pauses to take a sip. “But the truth is, he was working a night shift. Had six people who saw him clock in. And no one ever found the little girl.”
I stare at them both, my mind racing, the pieces clicking together. “You’re seriously telling me you believe this Pit stuff? After all these years? When Pop would bring it up and you’d both shut him down like he was a senile old man? You’d look at each other with that fucking pitying look and change the subject?” I look at them. “Now you’re telling me you agree with him? That he wasn’t crazy?” I shake my head, a bitter taste in my mouth. “All this time, you let me think he was losing his mind. For what? To what? Protect me from the truth?” I gesture around at the perfect, sterile room. “Or just to protect your own goddamn past?”
“Jaxwell,” my mother says firmly. “We will not have that kind of language in this house.”
A humorless laugh escapes my lips. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is ‘goddamn’ too harsh for the woman who just admitted she let her best friend get dragged to hell because she was jealous over a car?”
My mother actually gasps, a sharp, delicate sound of outrage.
“Jaxwell! We did what we had to do to keep you away from it,” my dad cuts in, his voice a low warning, his eyes flashing with anger. “Don’t you dare talk to your mother like that.” He glances at Sisk, who’s watching us like she’s front row at a tennis match, and I can see him visibly trying to rein it in, to be the calm,collected doctor for the guest. He takes a breath, but the damage is done.
Sisk doesn’t back down. She sees the opening and slides right into it. “There’s gotta be another explanation… right?” she says. “I mean, curses and wishes and all that—come on.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I just remember reading about it,” she adds softly. “Wasn’t she dating someone back then? Maybe he knows something… maybe the fire wasn’t an accident. Maybe someone set it on purpose.”
“Rourke?” My mom lets out a breath of a laugh. “Rourke was an imbecile then and he’s an imbecile now. He couldn’t see a trap if it was sewn into his own collar.” She lifts her chin. “Hard to believe they still call him detective.”
