Games We Play (Thistle Cove 2)

“I read her messages. She implies in them that she’d been with an older man before. A friend’s dad.”

“It’s possible—I mean, after witnessing that, the dude has balls. Big ones, and obviously Rose was in some kind of trouble, or she wouldn’t have been coming to me to self-medicate.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe she went to him the same way Kayla just did? Why wouldn’t she? He’s her best friend’s dad.”

Ezra’s right. I’d wondered before, but after seeing this I think there’s only one thing I can do.

Talk to Juliette.

18

Ozzy

I walk out of school, toward the student lot, and stop when I see a familiar person standing by Kenley’s car. Shannon Hughes spots me and waves.

“Looking for Kenley?” I ask.

“She asked me to meet her here.”

I nod and glance back at the double doors. “She should be here soon. Her locker is on the other side of the school.”

“No worries. I’m not in a rush. I spent most of my day cleaning out my mom’s house. It’s nice to get out for a while.”

Small talk makes me uneasy, so I lean against the car and wait for Kenley to appear. When she does her face is an odd mixture of pale and flushed. I walk over and grab her backpack. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it later.” She looks at Shannon. “I guess you got my message.”

Shannon grins. “I did. I think it’s a great idea.”

I look between the two women. “What’s a great idea?”

“Shannon thought it would be nice to do a memorial page for Jacqueline in the centennial issue. You know, photos and some memories. No one else may want to remember Jacqueline, but my job is to recognize the big things that happened over the last hundred years. A missing and murdered girl seems like it should be on the list.”

It makes sense, you know, if anything in this situation was logical. Kenley’s playing with fire. I guess there’s not much I can do but tag along and make sure she doesn’t get burned.

“Do you need me to do some interviews?” I ask.

“Yep. Shannon got one set up for us this afternoon. Is that okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, I can do that. Anyone in particular?

She and Shannon glance at one another. “We’re going to see Jacqueline’s mom.”

Mrs. Cates lives not far from Main Street. It’s easy to see why Jacqueline would have felt safe walking home from the library. It was a short, well-lit walk that she’d probably taken a million times before.

The historic houses that buffer the city and the water range from stately Victorians to smaller bungalows, like the one we’re parked in front of now. It’s red brick with a screened in porch. It’s well-taken care of, but there’s no obvious upgrades or renovations like many of the other homes nearby.

“I called her and told her we would be stopping by after school got out,” Shannon says, climbing out of Kenley’s front seat. “She’s hesitant, which is understandable, but open to talking to us.”

That’s a relief, I think, not wanting to barge into someone’s house and start asking them intrusive questions about their dead daughter.

“And you told her why we’re coming?”

“Absolutely.”

Shannon leads us up the front steps and through the screened door. I hold it open for Kenley, placing my hand on the small of her back as she passes through. We don’t have the chance to knock before the front door opens and an older woman stands before us.

“Mrs. Cates, I’m Shannon.”

“Shannon,” the older woman says, “Of course. You haven’t changed.”