Lies We Tell (Thistle Cove 3)

The apartment has no specific smell—just like a standard hotel room. The front room is a living room; a gray couch, striped rug, two leather end chairs. A brushed metal coffee table sits in the middle of the seating arrangement. A flat screen on the wall. A counter top with barstools separates the kitchen from the living area. Ozzy walks ahead, into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. To all of our surprise, it’s fully stocked. Drinks, milk, fruit, containers of yogurt. He reaches inside and pulls out the milk.

“The date’s still good.”

“Someone lives here,” Ezra says.

“Maybe it’s not Rose? Maybe she was replaced?” Ozzy tosses out.

I pass them, walking down the narrow hallway. To the left is the bathroom. The right a large bedroom. Ezra follows me, stepping into the bathroom and flipping on the light. I face the bedroom. A sma

ll lamp has been left on by the bed, lighting the room. I walk to the closet and open it. There are belongings inside.

Women’s clothing, similar to Rose’s style. I should call Finn in to see if he recognizes anything, but I don’t. My stomach hurts.

“There are drugs in the bathroom cabinet,” Ezra says. “Unmarked bottles.”

“And booze in the kitchen,” Ozzy calls out.

I sit on the end of the bed, trying to settle my stomach. I look up and see a photograph on the dresser. My heart skips. I’ve seen the picture before—or one like it. Dark water stretches in the horizon, contrasting against the glaring white of the boat. The other pictures had Rose and Juliette, their parents. Ezra and Mr. Baxter.

This only has two of them.

Rose, tan and in her checkered bikini—the Claddagah charm against her warm skin, and an arm hanging gently over her shoulders.

Ezra looks in the room, face so similar to his father’s.

“Find anything?”

I point to the picture, to the man with Rose, and say, “Yeah, your dad.”

Ezra walks out of the apartment, jaw tight, shoulders tense. I start to follow.

“Give him a second, Ken,” Ozzy says, holding me back. “It’s a lot to process.”

“Tell me about it.”

Mr. Baxter is Rose’s Sugar Daddy. The one taking care of her, paying for this apartment, giving her money…the one she threatened to leave Thistle Cove over.

Mr. Baxter.

I shudder, thinking about the times I’d spent alone with him. The uncomfortable way I felt when he looked at me. Did Rose like that? Is that what she wanted?

Finn’s sitting on a bar stool, face pale. “Are you okay?”

He runs his hands through his hair. “She was sleeping with Coach Chandler and Mr. Baxter? I don’t get it.”

I’m not sure I do either, but that’s what this is all about, right? Not understanding Rose? Or trying to understand her?

There’s a difference here, something I don’t want to say out loud to Finn. I know seeing more evidence that Rose cheated on him has to be a punch in the gut, regardless of where things stood at the end. No one wants to feel like a fool. What I find most interesting is that it’s a photo of just Rose and Mr. Baxter.

Does that mean she felt differently about him?

Did she have feelings for him that went beyond what she felt for Chandler?

I turn and walk back down the hallway, reentering the bedroom. There has to be something here. Something else.

I go back to the closet and sort through the clothes. There’s nothing really recognizable—all of it a little dressier than what we’d wear back home—but it may be the kind of thing that would fit in somewhere like The Dollhouse.

“Oh, Rose, what the hell did you get yourself into?”