The Last Time I Saw Her Page 2

  “Forget it,” she said without turning, her legs never breaking their stride. She was walking like herself now in clunky movements. Gone was the languid walk from the night at his work. It was still weird to see her in Lauren’s clothes, though. Usually, Harley wore black, not pink. Never pink. And her makeup was normally more severe, sharp lines and dark colors, not soft and natural like it was today.

  He jogged after her, desperation blooming in his chest. “C’mon, Harley. You came to me. You must’ve wanted something.”

  Slowing down, she said, “I did. Now I don’t.”

  A car drove past, the driver glancing over at them curiously. Dylan stiffened. It probably looked like he was chasing Harley. Annoyance flared at the whole situation.

  “You’re some piece of work,” he snapped. “So, is that all this was? You thought it would be cool to dress up like a ghost and pretend to haunt me and my sister?” With a disgusted frown, he shook his head. “Real mature. Sounds like a prank a five-year-old would pull.”

  She froze, pivoting. “It wasn’t a prank. It’s an investigation.”

  Dylan had to fight against the satisfied grin that threatened to evolve. He knew if he could push the right buttons, he’d get her talking.

  “An investigation?” He almost laughed aloud, but then he remembered who her dad was, and the laugh died on his lips. His chest tightened. “Are you, like, working for your dad?”

  She snorted, bitterness tainting her tone. “Yeah, right.”

  “Then what are you investigating?”

  “Lauren’s murder. What else?”

  His head spun with confusion, and his patience was wearing thin. “Damn it. Just spell it out.”

  She grinned, clearly enjoying this. Dylan knew girls like Harley. Girls that liked to play guys. To dangle something in front of them like a prize barely out of reach. Usually he’d play along, but not today. He’d get answers from her, but he’d get them on his own terms.

  “Never mind.” Stepping back, he waved his own question away with the flick of his wrist. “I don’t really care. Just leave me and my sister alone.” As he stomped toward his house, his feet sunk into the grass with each step. Green blades stuck to the soles of his shoes leaving a trail of footprints in his wake as he made his way across the street.

  “Wait!” She said the minute he made it into the driveway. Footsteps clattered behind him. He didn’t bother turning. There was no need. She was in front of him in no time, her shoulders slumped. A sigh slipped through her parted lips. “I want to solve Lauren’s murder, and I guess I thought you and your sister might know something…you know, because you’re the ones who found her.”

  Dylan’s stomach tightened.

  Blood.

  Blood everywhere.

  Exhaling, he closed his eyes against the memories.

  Flipping them open, he said, “And the costume was what? To get us talking?”

  She flashed him an embarrassed grin. It looked odd on her. “What? It works in movies.”

  He admired her creativity. “Maybe if you looked more like Lauren,” he offered. “Not that it would’ve mattered. My sister and I have already told the police all we know. We had nothing to do with this. Didn’t your dad tell you that?”

  “My dad can’t discuss his cases with me,” she answered, frowning. “He doesn’t discuss anything with me. He’s obsessed with his job, and this case has taken over his life.” She paused, biting her lip. “I can’t wait until it’s solved.”

  When Officer McVay interrogated Dylan, he was cold, detached, formal. Was he like that as a dad? Dylan could relate to that. “And you’re trying to move that along?”

  Staring hard at the ground, she nodded.

  “Maybe try a different method next time,” he advised. “The costume thing is a little creepy.”

  “Hey, it got you talking to me.”

  “Would’ve talked to you anyway,” he mumbled.

  “Really?” She scrunched up her nose. “You sure about that?”

  No, he wasn’t. He’d spent years ignoring Harley. This was the first conversation they’d ever had. Shame burned through him.

  “I can’t help you,” he finally said. It wasn’t smart to get involved. “I didn’t really know Lauren.”

  “That’s why you’re perfect.” Her eyes lit up. “You’re impartial. You can look at things objectively. And you’re not a suspect.” She shrugged. “At least I don’t think you are.” The words were said flippantly, but they hit their mark. Dylan’s body warmed. He’d felt like a suspect by the way Officer McVAy had studied him, picking apart every word he said. “But I have a whole list of them. Her friends, her boyfriend, her ex-boyfriends. And I think if I had someone helping me I could figure it out.”

  “Why not just let the police handle it?”

  “They didn’t go to school with her. I swear my dad thinks she was the nicest girl on the planet and that all of her friends are perfect and sweet. You and I know differently. We can get to the bottom of this faster than the police can. I’m sure of it.”

  No one wanted this over more than Dylan. For weeks, he’d been looking over his shoulder. He’d been brought into the police station and interrogated multiple times. And he walked around town with a cloud of suspicion hanging over his head. Harley showing up like this was an unexpected gift.

  “Okay,” he blurted out. “I’ll help you.”

  The smile she gave was the largest one he’d ever seen on Harley’s face. With the subtle makeup, the pink clothes and the peppy grin, she actually did resemble Lauren a little bit.

  ***

  “Did I just see Harley McVay walking away from your house?” Hunter asked the minute Dylan opened the front door in response to his knock. In all the excitement, he had forgotten Hunter was coming over.

  “Yeah. That was her.” No point in lying.

  “Why was she dressed in all pink? And why was she carrying a blond wig in her hand?” Hunter raised his brows as he headed inside Dylan’s house. “Halloween already passed.”

  “Um…” Dylan tried to think of a logical explanation, but came up dry. Hoping Hunter would drop it, he headed into the kitchen which was right off the entryway they were standing in. “Want something to drink?”

  “Is that your way of stalling?” Hunter flashed a knowing smile that made Dylan’s stomach tighten.

  They’d been friends since they were five. They told each other everything. But this was something Hunter would never understand.

  “She’s an actress. She’s trying out for some play,” Dylan finally said. It was the best he could come up with.

  “A play, huh? Then why was she here?” Hunter furrowed his brows. “You’re not the director, are you?” An easy laugh spilled through his lips, and Dylan joined in, grateful for the bantering.

  Dylan reached out and closed his fingers around the refrigerator door handle. “Seriously, you want something to drink? Eat?” When he tugged the door open, frigid air whisked over his body.

  “I’ll take a soda,” Hunter said. Dylan grabbed two, then nudged the door closed. As he moved away from the fridge, he was grateful to be away from the cold.

  He handed Hunter one of sodas. The sound of popping and fizzing filled the kitchen. “Wanna play a videogame?” Dylan asked. It was Hunter’s weakness. Once he started playing, he’d most likely forget all about Harley.

  “Sure.”

  “Cool.” Relieved, Dylan headed out of the kitchen, Hunter at his heels.

  “Wait a minute.” Hunter stopped walking. Dylan’s muscles seized up. “Are you and Harley hooking up? Is that why she was dressed like that? Are you two into, like, weird role playing?”

  “What?” Hell to the no.

  Why would his friend even go there?

  “C’mon.” Hunter nudged him. “You can tell me.”

  But he couldn’t tell him. At least not the truth. Dylan had no choice but to go along with what Hunter thought. “What happens in the DiMarco house, stays in the DiMarco house,
” he joked, his stomach knotting.

  “You savage. I had no idea you were even into her.” Hunter jabbed him in the side. “It’s okay, man. I know what everyone thinks about her, but, hey, if she gets you going, then who am I to judge. It’s not like I’m getting any.”

  Neither was Dylan. When Hunter offered him a congratulatory slap on the back, his stomach soured. He hoped Harley understood.

  “Man, your life has blown up lately. First, finding Lauren’s body, and now hooking up with Harley,” Hunter said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Crazy.”

  “Yeah. Crazy,” Dylan muttered.

  “Dude, I’m sorry. That was a messed up thing to say.”

  “It’s okay.” Dylan forced a smile. Being upset wouldn’t do any good. Hunter didn’t mean anything by it. And he wasn’t wrong. This whole thing was crazy.

  Dylan envied Hunter. He wished he’d only heard about Lauren’s death through rumors and news reports.

  If only it had nothing to do with him.

  Clearing his throat, he crouched down on the floor in front of the TV. “Which game should we play?” He opened the bottom cabinet where all the videogames were neatly lined on two shelves. His mom’s doing. She wasn’t a neat-freak by nature, but keeping his dad happy was top priority.

  “Which one haven’t we played in awhile?” Hunter plunked down on the couch.

  Shuffling through the games, his lungs expanded, the crushing weight from earlier lifting. This felt good, normal. And that’s what he wanted more than anything – normal. Like how things were a month ago. Harley’s plan had given him hope. Maybe together they could make everything go back to the way it was.

  three

  Loser. Nerd. Freak.

  Harley knew what the kids at school called her. It was why she hadn’t approached Dylan as herself. But dressing up like Lauren probably wasn’t her smartest idea ever. She’d scared him and that wasn’t her intention. She just wanted him to notice her. To talk to her.

  As dumb as it had been, it worked.

  On her way home from Dylan’s, it started raining. She knew it would. The clouds were dark and ominous overhead as if waiting for the moment to strike. She had hoped it would happen after she was securely inside, but wasn’t holding her breath. A few blocks from home the first drop hit. Within seconds, the water was coming down hard and fast.

  Harley didn’t drive. She could, but she didn’t want to. Not after her mom’s accident.

  By the time she made it inside her house, she was drenched. Water dripped from her hair and eyelashes, leaving a trail of splatters on the hardwood floors. Shivering, she shook her head. How was it colder inside than outside? Hurriedly, she turned on the heater and hugged herself, running her hands up and down her arms. Clearly, her dad hadn’t been home at all today. Not that she was surprised. He hardly ever was.

  The wig was unrecognizable. Gone was the silky blond locks. Now it was nothing more than a matted mess. She tossed it on the stained carpet. Maybe she’d try to salvage it later. Kicking off the pink ballet flats, she wriggled her numb toes. What stupid shoes. They barely covered her feet. If she’d been wearing her Chucks like usual, her feet would’ve stayed nice and warm. Teeth chattering, she made her way to the bathroom. Once inside, she peeled off the soaked pink dress and discarded it on the tiled floor. Mascara ringed her eyes and streaked her cheeks. She looked deranged.

  Body trembling, she reached inside the shower and turned on the faucet. Then she waited. The plumbing in this house was old, and it took awhile for the water to heat. When steam began to rise, she stepped inside the tub, dragging the curtain closed. The hot water felt good against her frigid skin. She rubbed soap all over her face, scrubbing off the mascara and pink lipstick. Then she tunneled her fingertips through her hair. It had been years since she wore it long. Rebellion had caused her to chop it. She thought it would upset her dad, but it didn’t. He liked it. Told Harley that for once she didn’t remind him of her mother. The remark stung, but she understood what he meant.

  Family members always told her that she was the spitting image of her mom. They had the same pale skin, dark eyes, and long black hair.

  Her mom would never have worn her hair short and spiky, the way Harley did now.

  That’s why Harley kept it this way. It was unique. It was her own. And when she looked at her reflection, she no longer saw the woman she missed more than life itself.

  Sometimes she felt like she’d entered a parallel universe. She prayed that one day she’d open her eyes and be back in the universe she belonged in. The one with a dad who was around and a mom who loved her. A universe where she lived in the city with friends she liked instead of in this small, boring town where she had no one. But that wasn’t possible. This was the only universe, and she was stuck in it.

  Harley wondered if Lauren had appreciated her life, but doubted it. Lauren didn’t seem like the type of girl to count her blessings. Even though Harley hadn’t grown up with Lauren since birth the way most of the other kids at their school had, she’d been here long enough.

  Her dad had moved them here shortly after her mom’s fatal car accident. Harley was thirteen. She’d been getting into trouble, and her dad thought moving to a small town would help them. It didn’t.

  Once Harley finished her shower, she changed into a pair of sweats. It was warmer than it had been when she first got home, but not as warm as she desired.

  There was a distinct smell in this house, almost like mildew, and it got worse when it rained. It drifted under her nose, turning her stomach as she searched for something to eat. Too bad there wasn’t anything. Her dad hadn’t hit the grocery store in awhile. She should’ve picked something up when she was in Fenton Market last night. But that would’ve probably ruined the whole ghost illusion.

  Frustrated, she called her dad.

  “Hello,” he answered breathlessly after multiple rings.

  It took her a second to answer. She’d been zoning out, thinking he wouldn’t pick up. “Oh, hey, Dad.”

  “Harley, what’s up?”

  “I’m hungry,” she said.

  Silence filled the line for several seconds. Harley wondered if he was still there. She was about to ask, when he finally spoke. “Well, find something to eat.”

  Her stomach dropped. “There’s nothing here.”

  “We just went grocery shopping last week. I’m sure you can find something.” He was starting to get impatient. “There are some eggs in the fridge, and I saw a box of mac and cheese in the pantry.”

  “Mac and cheese with eggs? That’s gross.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  “Obviously, you won’t eat them together.” In the background, Harley heard voices, a phone ringing, papers shuffling.

  “I don’t want mac and cheese or eggs.”

  “Look, Harley, I don’t have time for this. I’m in the middle of a big case.”

  Of course. How could she forget?

  “I know, Dad, but I’m your daughter, and I’m hungry for dinner. Don’t you have a lunch break? Can’t you come home and--”

  “Harley,” he cut her off. “A girl is dead. Don’t you get that?”

  It was like a slap in the face, harsh and direct, and out of nowhere. “Yeah, I do,” she responded quietly, her heart sinking.

  “Well, that’s a little more important than you not wanting to eat what we have in the kitchen for dinner.”

  The dead had always been more important than the living to Dad.

  It was why Harley had contemplated offing herself a year ago. Nothing else she’d ever done to get his attention had worked. But she was too spineless, too scared, too weak.

  “Just eat whatever you can find,” her dad finished. “And if you can’t make that work, there’s some change on my dresser. Get some fast food.”

  It’s pouring outside, she almost said, but clamped her mouth shut. She didn’t want to be scolded again.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Talk to you later.” He was gone
before she even said goodbye.

  ***

  Harley smelled them before she saw them. Standing in a cluster in the middle of the hallway, they wore name brand clothes and expensive perfume. She didn’t know them. They looked like freshman. Her stomach knotted at their excessive giggling. She knew what it meant. They were making fun of someone. It didn’t take long to figure out who.

  She’d seen the young girl in the halls before. Always by herself, her face pressed into her smart phone. She was overweight, wearing hand-me-downs. Her demeanor was awkward, unsure.

  In a nutshell, she was a bully magnet.

  “Oh, my god. What is she wearing?” One of the girls whispered loudly.

  “I know. Did she get it at Curtains R Us?”

  They all laughed.

  Harley shook her head. Popular clearly didn’t equal witty.

  “That’s probably the only place that carries her size.”

  More laughter.

  Harley’s heart dipped at the way the girl’s neck fell forward like she was trying to curl in on herself. It was a feeling she could relate to. And it sparked anger so sudden it startled her.

  “Hey, leave her alone!” She snapped.

  When all eyes turned to her, mouths gaping, she took a step.

  Why had she done that?

  Other students looked over too.

  Her skin crawled. What had gotten into her?

  This wasn’t her business.

  Walk away, Harley.

  But she couldn’t. Not when she got a glimpse of the girl’s eyes. The only other time Harley had seen eyes that sad was when she looked in a mirror. She may not have known this girl, but it did affect her. More than she wanted to admit.

  “You heard me!” She used her most threatening voice. Harley knew she could be scary when she wanted to be. “Get outta here.”

  It worked. After a few huffs and sidelong glances, the girls stormed off.

  “Don’t worry,” Harley told the girl. “They’ll all be divorced and living back home with their parents by the time they’re thirty.”

  The girl smiled. Just a small one, but it was something.