* * *
“Tell me about what happened when you guys pranked her,” Jamie said. The chill had reached inside her and she’d started shivering uncontrollably, so they’d headed back inside. Emma was just finishing another one of her cooking shows and was standing in front of the couch, turning off the TV with the remote. She and Bartholomew then headed toward the stairs, and as Cooper and Jamie entered the kitchen, she heard Emma’s bedroom door shut.
Cooper ran a hand through his hair, hesitating. Throughout their time on the back porch, Cooper had been determined and forthright, but now, inside, with everything almost said between them already, Jamie saw him take a huge breath and hold it in for a moment, letting it out slowly, giving himself time to think.
She invited him to take the seat Emma had relinquished, and then she perched on the ottoman of the leather chair that had been her mother’s favorite seat. In the few times Jamie had visited, she’d chosen a kitchen barstool rather than get in the way of her mother and Emma’s set routine.
Cooper stared at the now-blank screen of the television as Jamie had turned it off. A floor lamp near him cast shadows on the planes of his face. Jamie realized how stern he looked and for the first time really thought of him as an officer of the law more than the boy she had such a serious crush on in high school.
“I’m not sure whose idea it was,” he began. “All of us, at some level. Race was expecting Emma at his party, and she stopped in, but she told him she was babysitting. That threw everything off. Race was not happy. He was really into her, but she was distant. So, we changed our plans. I was with Tim Merchel and Mark Norquist. Race was with—”
“Dug Douglas,” Jamie stated flatly.
Cooper nodded. “You ran into them when they were leaving Race’s party.”
“You knew that?” Jamie’s brows lifted.
“It came out when they were interviewed by the police. Race and Dug picked up Robbie Padilla. I don’t know if you know, he’s now the phys ed teacher at the high school.”
“River Glen High? No, I didn’t know.”
Cooper went on to explain that Tim Merchel lived in Sacramento and Mark Norquist was deceased, which she’d already known. That night, they’d rung the front bell of the Ryerson home and seesawed a squeaky window, but Emma was neither fooled nor scared.
“She knew it was us and what we were doing. Race was kind of pissed and Merchel razzed me about having a crush on her. Emma came out on the porch and called us out. Told us we were like fourth-graders. We decided to leave . . . well, most of us. Dug wanted to stay. Race brought him back in his car, along with Robbie. There was a rumor that Emma was seeing a college guy and that really ate at Race, who thought she was his. He was devastated when he heard what happened. Made a lot of noise about finding that college kid and making him pay.”
“Emma wasn’t dating anyone,” Jamie said.
“Maybe secretly?” Cooper looked at her. “It’s an area that never really was explored.”
Jamie shook her head slowly, thinking. Did she know what her sister had been doing in those days? She thought she did, but did she? The truth was, she hadn’t paid much attention to Emma’s life except when it intersected with her own.
“If she was, it was very secret,” Jamie said.
“No college guys?”
“No college guys,” she repeated. “I remember that she was babysitting, working a lot, saving her money, and studying. She wanted to go away. It’s ironic, actually, because I didn’t feel the same way. I wanted to stay home, and yet I was the one who left.” She looked at him, finding it sort of hard to believe that they were having this conversation after all these years, that she was sitting down with the boy of her dreams and discussing the terrible events that had changed all their lives. She asked if he’d like another glass of wine, but he declined. She, on the other hand, felt like she could use a drink and got up to pour herself one.
“What do you think happened after you guys left?” she asked him after she’d refilled her glass.
“It was written up as a home invasion, though nothing was taken, but maybe Emma got in the way of a burglary.”
“He tried to kill her. The cuts were deep. The scars are still . . .” She’d been going to say “visible,” but that wasn’t a strong enough adjective. What she wanted to say was the scars were malevolent, because someone had wanted to kill Emma, yet she couldn’t quite find the right word to capture the depth and horror of the attacker’s intent.
They heard a noise from the second floor and both turned to look toward the stairs, but after a few moments, Emma still didn’t appear.
Jamie said softly into the quiet that followed, “I haven’t tried to talk to her much about it since I’ve been here. She’s popped out with random comments she won’t elaborate on, so it’s more maddening than helpful. My mother pushed and pushed, but all it did was upset her, so she quit trying.”
“Your mother pushed the police, too. I’ve read the report.”
“She blamed them for not digging deep enough. Thought they dropped the ball. She said it enough times: ‘They dropped the ball.’” Jamie made a face. “I remember telling her to stop saying that. I was a teenager. I just couldn’t handle it.”
“I drove the police crazy. I wanted them to find the perp and I wouldn’t listen to any excuses.”
Jamie half-smiled. “Mom swore she’d find out who did it if it was the last thing she ever did.”
“I feel the same way.”
They looked at each other for a long moment, and Jamie’s heart
