Lies We Tell (Thistle Cove 3)

Finn frowns. “Seriously?”

“Yep. When Kenley saw it, she got weird—like at first, she believed it, but then got hedgy and said she wanted to drop it. It’s like she’s second-guessing everything. The apartment, Mr. Baxter, digging into this in the first place.”

“I know that’s what Ezra wants,” he says. “He’s worried about her and thinks breaking up with her will keep her safe.”

I let that sink in. “Have you told her that?”

“No. I figure they need to sort this out themselves.” He looks up at me. “And he may be right.”

“You really think so?” I don’t like the idea of Kenley being hurt by Ezra, but I get his need to protect her. All of this stuff; Rose, the apartment, SugarBabies, murder…it’s scary. Not even Chief McMichael wants to touch it.

“I think that if Kenley is okay with letting all of this go, then we should support her.”

“It would be nice to just enjoy the rest of the senior year,” I say.

“Christmas is next week—then the retreat.” He raises an eyebrow. “It should be fun.”

“And a good way to blow off steam—leave all this drama behind. Maybe that would convince Ezra to reconsider.”

Our food arrives, the waitress sliding Finn’s huge plate in front of him and then the two milkshakes. I take a spoonful and feel the cold sweetness on my tongue, thinking that maybe it’s time for us to stop playing detective and go back to being high school students.

If only the rest of Thistle Cove had the same idea.

26

Kenley

Even if I’d wanted to continue my deep dive into exposing BD, with the holidays approaching it’s impossible. Tradition rules in Thistle Cove and the only thing that can compete against Christmas is exams, and even they take a backseat.

Saturday morning is the town’s Pancakes with Santa—the annual event held in the high school cafeteria. We didn’t as much volunteer to help as it’s expected through the various clubs and activities we’re involved in. I can’t hate on it too much. The money goes to the Children’s Home, and who doesn’t like Santa and pancakes?

I’m assigned door duty, selling tickets as people come in. It’s a cheerful environment—the dance team sparkles in their glittery outfits, handing out candy canes to the kids. The cheerleaders direct people to tables. The guys are all here—Ozzy relegated to the kitchen and the football team cleans up wearing their uniforms with an added purple Santa hat. Finn walks by pushing a trash can and winks. He’s flipping adorable.

Ezra, on the other hand, is keeping his distance—cleaning up on the opposite side of the room.

“Is he here?” a little girl asks while her parents pay for their tickets. She glances up at the stage where a large gold-painted throne sits.

“Not yet. He should be here at any time.”

“He wants to make sure everyone eats first,” the dad says, giving me a wink. I remember the thrill of coming here as a kid. Some people have mall Santas. In Thistle Cove, this is our tradition. All the kids dressed up and excited to see Santa. For years, Mr. England, the man that ran the pharmacy, dressed up like Santa, but he retired last year. I’m not sure who’s doing it this year.

“Morning, Kenley.”

I look up and see Mr. and Mrs. Waller.

I swallow. “Good morning.”

“Two tickets please.” He gives me his politician smile and unpeels a twenty-dollar bill from his money clip. Regina grins warmly.

“I like your purse,” I say, knowing it’s the kind of thing Mrs. Waller thinks is important. Truthfully, she looks gorgeous. Her cream-colored sweater looks soft, and her long brown suede skirt is very stylish. Her outfit is topped off with a faux-fur lined coat and a large handbag.

“Thank you, sweetie.”

I take the money and give them the tickets.

“Thank you for volunteering your time,” Brice says. “It’s good to see you focusing your energy on something positive, like helping out in the community.”

There’s a smug condensation in his tone and I bite back a million retorts.