As I approached the car, Franny pushed the key into her red VW beetle convertible.
“Hey Franny,” I called out. “Can I talk to you?”
She jerked the key out and opened the door. “Don’t call me that.”
Any sympathy that I might have seen on her face back in biology class had completely disappeared.
“I’m sorry. That’s what Ana called you earlier. I . . . I don’t remember your real name.” I tried to look as apologetic as possible. I needed her on my good side if I wanted to coax information out of her.
She eyed me suspiciously over the car door. “So you really don’t remember?”
I forced my lips to quiver as if I might burst into tears at any moment, then shook my head. It seemed to work.
Her expression softened a tad but it was still cool. “My name is Francesca. And I really need to get home now.”
I took a step forward. “Just a minute, please? I want to ask you about something.”
She tightened her grip on the keys. “What about?”
“I heard a rumor . . . that you saw me with someone a while back, a guy who wasn’t Ryan. Who was it?”
The parking lot hummed with the sound of engines and conversation, and the stench of exhaust lingered in my nose as more people set out to drive away. Ryan leaned against a car on the other side of the parking lot, watching us. Apparently, he still hoped we could talk despite my text message. And maybe he’d get his wish—if Devon didn’t turn up first.
Francesca drummed her fingers lightly on the steering wheel, her face closed. “Listen, Madison. It was dark, and I didn’t see much.”
The tips of her ears turned pink. Liar. She put the key in the ignition and started the engine. I gripped the edge of her door. “Please, Francesca. I need to know.”
She looked at me, contemplating, and for a moment I was sure she’d tell me but then she shook her head. “Look. If I knew, I would tell you, but I didn’t recognize him. I wasn’t close enough, and it was late. All I know is that the guy was definitely not Ryan. That’s all I saw. I can’t help you.” She closed the door and I had no choice but to step back or the tires would have rolled over my toes as she drove off. Ryan started in my direction, a smile building on his face, but then he stopped. Steps crunched on the concrete behind me.
“What was that about?” Devon appeared at my side. Francesca’s car vanished around the corner.
“We were just talking.”
He narrowed his eyes at Ryan. Before he could ask any more questions I trudged over to his car. We both got inside but Devon hesitated, his hand on the key in the ignition. “Don’t believe everything Francesca tells you, she likes to gossip.”
If she had told me anything, I could have followed his advice, but as it was I was just as clueless as before. Why was it so difficult to find out who the other guy was? When I’d started my preparations for the mission, I’d thought Madison’s life looked easy, but now it seemed as if there were countless trap doors just waiting for me to fall into them.
The car slipped out of the parking lot with a stutter and we pulled onto the main street.
“Do you know anything about some other guy I’d been dating?”
Devon almost steered the car into oncoming traffic. His fingers curled around the steering wheel. “Why?”
He clenched his jaw. He wasn’t giving anything away. “Because I need to know what really happened and I can’t remember. Was I dating someone else after Ryan?”
“No, you didn’t have another boyfriend.” The way he worded it made me think that maybe there was more to the situation. Why would nobody tell me anything? Devon probably wanted to protect his sister, but didn’t he realize that keeping secrets would only make it easier for the murderer to prevail? As I glanced over at Devon, my stomach dropped. My heart drummed in my chest as countless questions swirled in my brain. There were so many secrets to expose, and who knew how much time I had before the killer tried to finish what he started?
“You know, what if something happens to me because you won’t tell me?”
He winced. “I’m trying to protect you, Maddy. I’m really trying but you have to let me.”
We pulled into the driveway and I knew the conversation was over. Linda was already waiting in the doorway. Had she even left that spot?
That night, we all ate dinner as a family again. It seemed to be a daily ritual. After dinner, Ronald came into my room. He lingered in the doorway, his hands fumbling with a little red package.