“This is unbelievable,” Stormi said. “That this can happen in the modern age.”

  “I know. The elders kept everyone locked up and scared. Our poisoning was partly to punish us, but also to send a message to the others. Matthew knew what they’d done. He knew it as he was dying.” I closed my eyes as spasms of remorse seared through me. “He told me to run, and I did.”

  Stormi cursed under her breath. “And they didn’t come after you?”

  “No, if they tried to find me, they weren’t successful. I changed my name to Tiffany. I used to be Michelle. But honestly, I don’t think they thought I’d talk, which I didn’t. All this time, they’ve continued on and I’ve been here, living my life.” Guilt niggled at me. Should I have done something? “Maybe I should have gone to the FBI.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” Jamie said. “You were a child. I can’t believe you got out and actually survived at sixteen. The images on the news make me feel sick. The electric fence and the guards. All those guns.”

  “I don’t even know what to say.” Stormi poured wine into all three glasses. “It’s so weird to think about you in a place like that.”

  “I didn’t know anything else,” I said. “Children accept things the way they are.”

  “Should we see if they’ve discovered anything else?” Jamie grabbed the remote and turned on my television.

  “I have so many questions,” I said. What happened to make the FBI raid now? Briar Rose had been there for decades. I’d always gotten the feeling that law enforcement looked the other way. Why had they decided to look now?

  We watched in silence, listening to the same information we’d already heard at the bar. The other girls had opened their food and were eating, but I was too nauseous to eat. I took a gulp of wine and almost coughed, but managed to keep it down. The second sip wasn’t as bad.

  From the television, the reporter said, “Breaking news. We’ve just learned that one of the casualties was Lawrence Miller. According to sources, he was one of the founding members of the cult. He was taken to the hospital earlier but died of gunshot wounds on the operating table.”

  I broke down then, sobbing silently. My father was dead. Why did I care? He’d been dead to me all these years. He was a monster like the rest of them. I pointed at the TV as they flashed a photo of my father on the screen. One I’d never seen before from when he was younger. Perhaps his high school portrait, given his slicked-back hair and formal suit. But it was him. No mistake.

  The girls exchanged a glance. “What is it, doll?” Stormi asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Lawrence Miller was my father.”

  6

  Breck

  By the time we arrived in town, the wait for a table was over forty-five minutes. Darby muttered something under his breath about tourists and then suggested we head back to his apartment. “We can order a pizza and get some beer. I think there’s a baseball game on.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said.

  “Me too,” Huck said.

  We stopped in at the grocery store to buy beer and snacks. While I paid, Huck ordered a pizza to be delivered to Darby’s. Then, fully stocked for the night, we walked across the street to his apartment building. It didn’t occur to me until we were walking up the steps that Tiffany also lived here. In fact, she rented the apartment across the hallway from Darby. Don’t get excited, I told myself. She was probably out with friends. It was Friday night. Or worse, maybe she had a date.

  Darby's apartment contained only a futon couch, two camp chairs, a coffee table made from plywood, and crude bookshelves filled with tattered paperbacks. A discarded “Best Teacher Ever” mug held remnants of morning coffee. The cream had risen to the top and arranged itself into the shape of a cat. A massive flat-screen television hung on the wall.

  “Sorry about the decor,” Darby said as he ran a hand through his thick, wavy hair. He had one of those faces that could play Superman on the big screen. Even his hair dipped over his forehead. Although tonight, with the fashionable black glasses, he looked more like Clark Kent. "I can't seem to find money in the old budget for some new furniture."

  "What more do you need?" Huck unpacked tortilla chips, salsa, Fig Newtons, and a box of microwave popcorn onto the coffee table. “This place is awesome.”

  "Should I get bowls?” Darby asked.

  "What for?" Huck tore open the bag of tortilla chips. "The salsa's in its own bowl." We'd gotten the fresh variety in one of those plastic containers with a sealed lid.

  I went into the kitchen to put the beer in the refrigerator. "I don't know if there's enough space in here," I said, joking, when I saw only a greasy takeout box and a carton of milk. After grabbing three bottles for consumption now, I closed the door and turned back to Darby.

  "Bachelor life." Darby shrugged and grinned. "Just my books and a giant television to keep me company."

  "Have you ever heard of leafy green vegetables?" I straightened, taking in the rest of the small kitchen.

  “There’s salad in the cafeteria at school,” he said. “School lunches are much healthier than they used to be."

  “Good to hear.” I handed him one of the beers.

  “The kids only eat the pizza and burgers, so I’m not sure the new menu’s helping much,” Darby said.

  When we returned to the living room, Huck held a chip midair as he stared at the television with glittering, unblinking eyes.

  Wondering what had captured his attention, I turned to the screen to see the story about Briar Rose. I’d seen a glimpse of it earlier. “Sick old men. It’s disgusting,” I said.

  “Agreed,” Darby said. “The girls were sixteen. That’s how old my sophomores and juniors are. I hope they throw the book at these freaks.”

  "I've been following this story for months,” Huck said. “There were inklings of the raid earlier this week.”

  “How did they get to them?” Darby asked.

  “They’d been building a case for years but didn’t have enough proof to bust them,” Huck said flatly. “They had their members locked away in there. No one went in or out. The fence was electric. Like they were animals."

  "Did anyone else die in the raid?" Darby asked. "Please tell me no children."

  “None of the children were hurt,” Huck said. “But one of the women was killed and one of the elders, as they called them. The news just broke that he died in surgery.”

  “How awful,” Darby said, sinking into one of his camping chairs. The screen showed women and children being led out to vans where the Feds were taking them to God knows where. The expressions of shock and grief on their faces brought tears to my eyes. Feeling sick, I turned away.

  "We should turn this off," Darby said. "As an overly empathetic person, I can't take it. Especially the kids."

  "Same here," I said.

  Huck flinched, causing the bag of chips in his lap to crinkle. "I should have gone down there this morning. I had a feeling this was going to break."

  "I thought you were done with big stories," I said.

  "I am. Or I'm supposed to be," Huck said. "It's just this one is in our own state, and it's going to be a huge story. I could have broken it if I'd had my head in the game." He looked at the chip still clutched between his fingers. "But I'm not in the game any longer. I need to remember that before I get myself into trouble again."

  The again part of that sentence remained a mystery. He hadn’t told even me what had been the final incident in Afghanistan that had caused him to give up what he’d thought was his dream job and come home.

  Darby grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned the channel to a baseball game between the Mariners and the Padres. He muted the volume and set aside the remote. "We need some women in our lives, man. This is pathetic. I mean, look at me. I’m thirty and living like a college student.”

  "You have a lot of books," Huck said. "That’s not so pathetic.”

  “Said one nerd to the other,” Darby said, leaning over to clink his beer bottle with Huck’s. “How's your house coming along?"

  “I move in a few weeks,” Huck said. "Until then, I'm living like a king over at Breck's."

  "My mom spoils him," I said. "She always had a soft spot for the Huckster."

  "She loves me more than you," Huck said.

  “No doubt.” I kicked his foot with the toe of my shoe.

  "She actually told me that.” Huck delivered this deadpan before finally scooping his chip into the salsa.

  "Speaking of women.” I sank into one of the chairs and spread my legs out long. "Tiffany's coming to work for me at the clinic."

  Huck sat up, suddenly interested. "Are you kidding me? Way to bury the lede." The guys all knew about my unrequited crush on Tiffany Birt.

  "Tricky, man," Darby said. "A workplace romance. Good plot twist."

  I sighed as I picked up a Fig Newton. "She's not interested. No spark in her eyes when she looks at me. And she never touches her hair."

  "Touches her hair?" Darby asked. “You mean, like flirtatiously?"

  "Yep," I said.

  "Any giggling?" Huck asked.

  "Not even a chuckle," I said. "In fact, she's a very serious person."

  “What makes you even think you’d be a good match?” Huck said. “You're not a serious person."

  "But isn't there something about opposites attract?" Darby asked. “That’s always happening in novels.”

  "In books," I said. "Maybe not in real life. She probably looks at me and thinks I'm a joke. The napping and all.”

  “You told her about napping?” Huck asked.

  “It might have come up,” I said.

  “Man, you’re living the dream,” Darby said. "I wish I could nap at lunch. I totally would if I could get away with it."

  "How is it that you need a nap every day?" Huck asked. "You're not a toddler."

  "Or am I?" I asked, laughing.

  A knock on the door stopped us from further discussion of my sleeping gifts. “There’s our dinner,” I said.

  “I’m hungry but I wish it were girls,” Darby said, leaping to his feet.

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “They magically fall out of the sky on Friday nights.”

  Darby yanked open the door. To my surprise, Stormi stood in the doorway. "Sorry to bug you, Darby, but—” She interrupted herself when she saw me standing there. "Oh, hey, Breck. What’re you guys up to?” Her eyes darted behind us to Huck. “Huck.”

  “Stormi,” Huck said, before returning his attention to the muted television.

  Darby motioned for her to come in. “Hanging out. You want to join us?”

  She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Maybe. I’m over at Tiffany's with Jamie. We’re having drinks, too, but we ran out of wine, and I was hoping to convince you to help a girl out with some replacements."

  "Why can't you walk to the store?" Huck said from the couch.

  Stormi glowered at him, her eyes bright under the fringe of dark bangs. "Because it's late and I don't want to walk alone in the dark. If you were a gentleman, you would know that."

  "Don't mind him," I said. "He's grumpy because he didn't report on the big story."

  "Briar Rose? I knew you were going to be mad about that. I told you to go.”

  Huck made a “close your mouth” gesture with his hand before digging back into the chips.

  “He hates it when I’m right.” Stormi fluffed her bangs that hung just above her eyebrows. What a pretty girl, I thought. Those green eyes and black hair, plus a few freckles, gave her an edgy, sexy look. If only I could like her. Tonight, she wore black jeans and a tight white T-shirt that showcased her slender shoulders and flat stomach. Sadly, we were comfortable together like a brother and sister. We'd talked about it at a holiday party a few months back. Both of us were alone in the kitchen at Garth's while the rest of the guests mingled around the Christmas tree. Everyone had their special person but me. Stormi had apparently thought the same thing, because she'd turned to me and flashed a mischievous grin. "You and me? Any chemistry?"

  "I don't think so," I'd said. "But I could make you another drink and see if anything changes."

  We'd had a good laugh and then I’d confessed to her about my crush on Tiffany. She’d told me to ask her out. I’d told her I'd think about it. That was back in December. It was now April. Late April.

  Stormi had followed up with a drunken confession that she'd had a kissing dream about Huck. Her nemesis, as she called him. I'd kept my mouth shut, but I was with my mom on this one. Huck's hostility toward Stormi had more to do with how attracted he was to her than anything else.

  "Which apartment are you guys hanging out in?” Darby asked. "Tiffany's or Jamie's?"

  "Tiffany's. But Jamie's there too." Stormi fluttered her fingers toward the door. "We've gone through two bottles of wine, and it's not midnight."

  Huck and I got the reference to the country song, “Two More Bottles of Wine,” from one of our favorite Emmylou Harris albums, but Darby looked blank. He should teach country music as poetry in his classes. Maybe I should suggest that?

  “You want to join us?” Darby said. "We have a case of beer, snacks, and a pizza coming.”

  "Two bottles between the three of you?" I asked. "It's definitely not a good idea for you to be walking around town."

  "That's what I thought too," Stormi said, making a face at Huck. "And I'm from New York." She hesitated and shifted her weight to one foot, then raised one leg and hooked it behind the other, reminding me of a flamingo.

  “You’ll be safe here," Darby said. "We were just saying how we needed some beautiful ladies to liven up the place."

  Stormi looked around the room. "Or paintings? Maybe a grown-up couch?"

  "I wish," Darby said.

  "I'll ask the girls if they'd like to cross the hall," Stormi said. "No promises, though. Tiffany's not really in the mood for lively conversation."

  "How come?" I asked.

  A look crossed Stormi's face I couldn't quite decipher. Indecision might be the best way to describe it.

  "She's had a rough day," Stormi said. “But I’ll go ask them. Be right back." She darted from the room, slender and quick like a deer.

  "That girl's way too cute,” Darby said.

  "You into her?" Huck asked.

  "Nah, just stating a fact." Darby stretched his legs out in front of him and took another swig from his beer. "Plus, I know you're obsessed with her, so I wouldn't want to get in the way of all that."

  "If you mean obsessed with how to get her out of my business, then you're correct." Huck sucked angrily from his beer, then shoved his hand into the chip bag.

  "Why don't you fire her, if you dislike her that much?" Darby asked, sounding curious instead of judgmental.

  "Because there's no one else as good. She's really talented." Huck lowered her voice. "The way she can capture a moment—the composition and lighting—it's really something. I’ve worked with some talented people over the years, and I'd put her up there with the best of them. Women that talented shouldn't also be pretty. It makes them insufferable." Huck finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the table.

  “So you do think she’s pretty?” Darby asked.

  “I have eyes.” Huck reached for another chip.

  Just then there was a soft knock on the door followed by Stormi’s voice. “Hey, we’re here. Let’s get this party started.” Tiffany and Jamie followed Stormi.

  “Thanks for letting us crash,” Jamie said.

  “It’s our pleasure,” Darby said.

  I’d forgotten everything else the moment I saw Tiffany's face. She'd obviously been crying, given the puffy eyes. Without thinking, I moved toward her, stopping myself at the last moment from grabbing her in my arms.

  “Have a seat,” Darby said. “Oh, and sorry about the chairs. Can I get you a beer?"

  They all nodded. He sauntered off to the kitchen to fetch a round for all of us. We all stood there awkwardly like middle schoolers at a dance.

  "We should put some music on," I said. "Liven things up."

  "Not too loud," Jamie said. "Mr. Nelson downstairs is already in bed. He has an early shift at the gas station.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “Jamie knows everything about everybody in the building,” Tiffany said, louder than she normally spoke. Her eyes, although red, seemed feverishly bright. “She looks after Mrs. Roy too.”

  “Who’s Mrs. Roy?” Darby asked as he entered carrying six beers, two in each hand and the other two tucked between his arm and side.

  “Your downstairs neighbor, dummy,” Huck said. “She and Mr. Nelson have lived there for twenty years.”

  “How am I supposed to know that?” Darby asked as he handed the ladies their drinks. “I’m not like you two.” He pointed at Huck and then me. “Who grew up here and know everything and everyone.”

  "Sometimes we wish we didn't," I said. "There are a lot of secrets in small towns, and most of them I don’t want to know.”

  "Is that true?" Stormi asked. “I love gossip.”

  Jamie sat on the other end of the couch and plucked at the knee of her skinny jeans. “Around here, you have to be careful what you believe. Gossip can be damaging.” She looked in Darby’s direction, as if to signal him about something.

  “Yes, but I love it anyway. Do you have any?” Darby asked in Huck and Stormi’s direction. “I bet you two learn a lot working at the paper.”

  “I know nothing.” Stormi plopped into one of the camp chairs and crossed one leg over the other. “Huck, do you know any gossip?”

  “I’m a reporter, not a gossip columnist,” Huck said, all growly.

  "Sometimes secrets are necessary," Tiffany said.

  Was there a little slur in her voice? I couldn't remember ever seeing her with a drink in her hand.

  "Otherwise, people like me couldn't live here." Tiffany appeared to consider sitting in one of the camp chairs but seemed to think better of it, easing herself down on the empty end of the couch instead.