Trust Me, Trust Me Not (Gavert City Book 3) Read online

  And today, I realized maybe he needs me to be there for him too. Maybe it was in his frown or the way he held himself, but there was a tension rolling through him like thunder. Maybe I need to show him that this friendship isn’t a one-way street. We talked about our pasts and our hurts and our hopes, but maybe he didn’t feel like he could add to my already heavy load when I started community college. And he’s wrong.

  And let’s be honest. I want to spend time with him. And his jaw. And his shoulders. And his smile. And the way he makes me laugh.

  Sorry I didn’t get back to you. Coffee sounds great.

  Are you free at five? His answer is almost instantaneous.

  Yep.

  I’ll pick you up if you want.

  Okay.

  And then my phone pings with another notification. I got an email from Hailey, a girl I met in the forums. She was on another compound with her parents and her uncle. It was more welcoming than ours and when they decided to leave, no one tried to kill them. My stepdad, also called the “Master” by his disciples, needed those types of communities to recruit more people, to trick them into giving him their wealth. She’s been looking for her sister who stayed in the community, and has cut all ties with them.

  She’s been helping me finding information on Noah.

  I remember the day he got kicked out. He told me everything was going to be okay. He had leaned forward, his long and wavy hair (that was always a tad greasy) tickled my neck as he whispered in my ear, exaggerating his Bostonian accent, “I’m going to have a life outside of this hell. Don’t worry about me. Take care of yourself. Take care of Cass for me. I’ll come back for you two, I promise.”

  I remember the putrid smell of the Master’s sweat as he gripped Noah away from me.

  I remember how Noah laughed in their faces even though he had the same haunted look I saw in the mirror way too often—full of fear.

  I hesitate. Maybe if I don’t read it, it’s like whatever she wrote never happened. But the burning desire to know if he’s okay wins over the fear. I click on the notification.

  Urgent News.

  My heart bubbles in my throat.

  Noah’s been dead for years. You should know. You killed him. His body was found in Maryland.

  CHAPTER 3 - HUNTER

  I never thought vanilla was sexy—until now. I didn’t even realize I cared about somebody’s smell till now. Shit, I don’t think I used to be turned on by body lotions or whatever it is. Lacey smelled like a hint of vanilla. And now every single time J.J. brings what he calls his “world-renowned” vanilla cupcakes to work, I think about her. Not that I wasn’t already.

  My gaze follows her and I frown. I was worried when I didn’t hear back from her. Worried something happened and I wasn’t there. Rafael gave me a hard time when I asked about her. I don’t usually ask about girls. And Rafael’s known me for years. But after giving me some bullshit, he relented and told me she seemed fine. What he didn’t say is how tired she looks. The circles under her eyes are more pronounced than the last time I saw her. She looks like she hasn’t slept a full night since the fire. When she said she thought that was going to be easier, she sounded so sad.

  “Hey Lacey?” I call after her and she turns around.

  “You got this,” I repeat with as much conviction as I can. Her lips curl into a small smile. A small smile that makes me feel the same as the day I became a rookie volunteer firefighter—like I finally did something good, something my father could have been proud of, something that wasn’t because of my name. She waves at me and then disappears in the crowd of students that has gathered in front of her class.

  “You’re coming upstairs Mr. Harrington?” Linda, the assistant to the associate Dean of the English department, walks by me. I’m not sure how long she’s been standing close by. She’s been kind to me throughout this process. “Is she okay?” she asks, nodding towards Lacey. She probably knows Lacey’s story. Almost everyone does. She sounds concerned but for some reason a defense mechanism roars up.

  “She’s fine. She’s more than fine.” I massage the back of my neck, trying to loosen imaginary tight muscles.

  Linda’s blue eyes narrow like she’s analyzing me. I’m not sure what she sees but she nods and turns around, trotting to the stairs leading to the second floor.

  “To be young again,” she mutters, running a hand through her curly gray hair. I’m not sure if I was supposed to hear her. I follow her up the stairs.

  “My grandma says being young is a matter of the heart.” I drawl the words out maybe a bit more than necessary.

  She may be much shorter than me but her laugh booms loudly. “I’m not sure if you’re being charming or if you just compared me to your grandmother. I’m fifty-one.” She pushes the door to the second floor and swerves right toward the office. She turns back to me and by the way she tilts her head, I know what she’s going to say next. “You’re Malcolm’s son.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” My dad’s full name was Malcolm Wallace Harrington III. When I was born, Mom said the doctor saved her life and mine and so they named me after him, breaking the tradition. That doctor not only saved my life but made sure I didn’t have to be reminded of my dad every single time I said my name. Yep, I should really send him a thank-you note.

  “He did so much for this university.” She sounds wistful. “Such a sad...” She doesn’t say the word “death.” Many don’t use that word. Father, as he liked to be called, died in a car crash right after losing the family’s entire wealth and the trust funds of many people in our community in bad investments and Ponzi schemes.

  He’d told me that night he wanted to do better, to be better. He was out on bail. He wasn’t supposed to leave the house but he still did. Some say he wanted to get his partner to admit he knew about the scheme, to not have everything put on him. On his way there, a truck hit him. He died instantly. Mom still had so much debt to repay. She had to sell the house and she moved back to her parents’ small ranch about an hour away.

  I had to find a way to pay for college, for the tuition and living expenses—everything.

  “You and your family will stay in my prayers.”

  “Thank you.” My voice sounds brusque and Linda slows down her pace. Thinking about Father always puts me off-balance. “Thank you,” I repeat forcing myself to infuse some warmth into my words, because none of this is her fault and she seems nice

  She purses her lips, opens the door, and gestures for me to take one of the chairs. I plop myself down and smile at Lacey’s text. I reply quickly. Linda clears her throat and I look up at her. “Just so you know, Mrs. McAllister seemed pretty upset this morning. She didn’t even take one of the muffins I always bring with me on Tuesdays.”

  Great.

  She leans in and her voice drops to a whisper. “I don’t think your past is helping you. What happened in that fraternity house...the shame it brought to this college. If your dad hadn’t been such an important benefactor...” She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t need to.

  The party happened six months before he died, before the shame hit him, me, our entire family. I was on top of the world. It was rush week. Rafael, Branson, and I thought we were the kings of the world, or at least of campus. Branson and I grew up with money and privilege, he on the East Coast and me in Texas. Rafael and I had known each other since we were kids. His family wasn’t as lavish as we were. And my dad was always teasing his dad for being too careful. Yep, I wish Dad had been more careful. We were all ready to have a good time. We were going to be brothers. It had been Dad’s fraternity. My grandpa’s too. I drank and drank and drank. I partied and partied some more.

  Until early morning.

  I’m the one who found her.

  Her body floating in the pool. Her pale face. Her blue lips.

  And nobody ever claimed her. No one knows where she came from, her name, her story.

  I struggle to take a deep breath.

  The assistant dean opens the door to he
r office. Her eyes are kind but her face is closed off.

  I fucked up in the past.

  But I never cheated on an exam or paper. If she doesn’t believe me, I’m going to lose everything.

  Everything I worked so hard for.

  Everything I rebuilt.

  Everything that keeps the nightmares away.

  CHAPTER 4 - LACEY

  Dead. Noah is dead.

  It can’t be right. He can’t be dead. My chest tightens. I grip my phone and step away from the crowd, needing some air and some space. My feet carry me back to where I saw Hunter only a few minutes ago, but he’s no longer there.

  What would I have told him anyways? That I’m a murderer?

  “Are you coming? Class is that way...” Elena, my roommate, taps my shoulder. I almost jump out of my skin. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Maybe,” I whisper because sometimes it feels like I’m a ghost living someone else’s life.

  Elena raises an eyebrow. “As an engineering major who believes in matter and energy, I can see why people believe in ghosts but...” She steps in the hallway but waits for me.

  “I’ll be right there,” I tell her. “I have to call someone.”

  “Don’t be late. You know how Mrs. Jackson is about attendance. I had her in English 105 last semester and she is usually a few minutes late by the third week of class but that’s it.” Her voice is pretty upbeat but she gives me the look—the one she must have invented for me: a mix of hope and resignation with a hint of pity.

  For the past three and a half weeks I’ve been pretending to fit in.

  Pretending but failing.

  “I just need a few seconds.”

  Elena looks at me in that way she does when she’s deciding whether to argue or not. Her hair is curly but not frizzy like mine must be and she’s got sneakers, yoga pants, and a hoodie with a squirrel on it that says SuperSquirrel. Squirrels are her favorite animal. Her side of the room has at least ten stuffed animals to prove it. She checks her phone and smiles. Probably got a text from her girlfriend. “I have to go. We both can’t be late. One of us needs to get notes from the beginning of class.”

  “Thanks, Elena. I just need a few minutes.”

  “I’ll tell Professor Jackson you’re on your way.” She hurries inside while I slightly relax my grip on my phone and read the message again.

  The words do a macabre dance in front of my eyes and a tremor sprints down my spine.

  Noah’s been dead for years. You should know. You killed him. His body was found in Maryland.

  I push the door and slide outside. I inhale deeply but the weight in my chest doesn’t move.

  It’s not true. I didn’t kill Noah. I tried to save him. I tried so hard to make sure he didn’t get in trouble. I covered for him when he was spending time with Cass. I told him playing spin-the-bottle wasn’t a good idea, that we weren’t twelve anymore, but he didn’t listen.

  I begged my stepdad not to ban him.

  He was my friend. My only real friend there.

  After beating me up, my stepdad pulled a chair and sat beside me. He gave me some water and then his dirty fingers lifted my head up toward him. “You’re a bad influence. You need to listen. Noah was bad news. Bad news for you, bad news for us.”

  “Because he didn’t believe every single word you said?” I didn’t back down. Not until I heard my brother and my sister outside. I didn’t want them to know how bad it really was. My stepdad turned toward the door and gave me the look, the one that said I better behave. And I did, more or less...until I helped my sister and brother escape this hell.

  Noah got kicked out before Abram moved the entire group to New Mexico. We lived there for only a few months before he relocated us closer to Gavert City, back in Texas on a smaller and dirtier place. That’s why when Noah didn’t come to save me, to save us, like he promised he would I thought he simply couldn’t find us.

  I plop myself down on the bench by the large oak tree and dial Detective Martinez’s number.

  She answers almost right away. “Hi, Lacey, how can I help you?” Her tone is calm as always.

  “I’m not sure. I told you about the forums and I got an email today from a girl I had been talking to. Her name is Hailey Darlow. Hailey M. Darlow. Her username is HMDnow and I asked her what it meant.” My voice is shaking and I force myself to take a deep breath. “She said Noah was dead. She said his body was found in Maryland. You would have told me, right? You said you checked his record and since he’s in the system, they would have found him, they would have said something.” The words tumble out.

  “It’s not the first time you get messages that don’t pan out.”

  “I know. But I’ve been talking to that girl for months. We started talking two weeks after the fire. And she seemed real. Her uncle was in the Circle too. I don’t know. What if she’s right? What if he’s dead? And she said I killed him. She said I killed him!” My voice raises with each word and my left hand covers my eyes for a second.

  “Listen, I’ll call my contacts in Maryland. But they would have reached out if someone matching Noah’s description had been found. I’ll call you back right after. Where are you right now?”

  “At school. Outside of the English building.”

  “Make sure you stay safe. And call for help if you see anything out of the ordinary.”

  I nod.

  “Lacey?”

  “Yes. I will.”

  “I’ll call you back as soon as possible.”

  I glance around. Only a few students are still headed into the English building. The wind blows harder, making some of the leaves at my feet swirl. I used to love looking at leaves when I was little. I used to look at their shape and always wondered if they had a story too. What they would say if they could talk.

  My phone pings with another email. A message from the forum.

  I click on it. My hands clam up but I relax as I read it. It’s another user who’s been looking for his sister. “Sorry, I don’t know her,” I answer. “You might want to check the other groups ‘Always Looking. Always There’ and ‘No more cults.’”

  Another beep. Another email from Hailey. I glance around again, almost thinking Hailey is going to appear out of thin air. I inhale deeply.

  She could be anywhere in the world, I remind myself. Not here. Not on this campus.

  You killed him. When he got kicked out of the compound because of you, he had to die.

  You’re a killer.

  Killer.

  People die because of you. Your mother died. Did she call your name before getting shot? How about Charlotte, who died in the fire? Why didn’t you save her? You saved yourself.

  You always save yourself.

  You have blood on your hands.

  But soon...it will be your turn.

  I lick my lips and clear my throat before typing a message back.

  Who are you? What do you want?

  I forward the emails to Detective Martinez and search Noah’s name again. I google “body found in Maryland.” But none sound like him.

  My phone rings before I click on another article detailing a gruesome murder.

  “One second,” Detective Martinez tells me and there’s some background noise like papers shuffling and her talking to a colleague. “Sorry, I asked a colleague to check something for me.”

  “No worries.” It’s a habit. I always tell myself not to worry even if sometimes it feels like that’s all I do.

  “No one matching Noah’s description or fingerprints was found in Maryland.”

  Unless he no longer has fingers. I shiver at the thought.

  “Listen Lacey. That last email you sent me was threatening. You don’t know who this Hailey is. You never met her. I asked the IT specialists to look into it. If she contacts you again, let me know immediately.” She pauses and her voice lowers a notch, more solemn. “We don’t want a repeat of what happened in July.”

  I shiver. When I was taki
ng classes at the community college this summer a man followed me to my car. He came so close I could smell his cologne. His eyes were red and his mouth was pursed into a thin line. “You destroyed her.” Charlotte’s dad had tracked me down. She died in the fire. I survived. He didn’t touch me but his threats continued and escalated. I have a restraining order against him.

  “It’s not the first hoax and it won’t be the last.” Detective Martinez uses her more reassuring tone. “That Hailey was just more elaborate, but she’s lying to you. Do you want me to send someone over to campus?”

  “No. I’m fine. It’s okay. I’m okay. I have to go to class. I’m late. But you’ll keep me updated, right?”

  “You know I will and you stay safe. Don’t answer her. She’s lying to you. And you’re not responsible for Charlotte’s death.”

  She’s right. I know she’s right but my muscles are still too tight, my mind still too full of unwanted thoughts.

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” She hangs up and I stand up. I can’t stay out here alone. I can’t let Hailey, or HMD or whatever her real name is, win. I hurry back into the building. It’s empty now.

  I’m alone in the hallway. Gone are the chatters and the laughter. Silence surrounds me. The lights flicker. My classroom is the last one on the right.

  Steps resonate behind me.

  I want to scream, but no sound comes out.

  The heartbeat drums in my ear. I almost expect to feel a hand grabbing me. I can almost hear the words again. “You’re going to suffer. I’m sorry.”

  It was a few days after the first incident with Charlotte’s dad. I didn’t see whoever grabbed me, but it had to be him. His voice was too low but it sounded similar. It was in a hallway like this one. I had gone to see my little sister at a summer camp play at the community center. I had stepped out from the crowd. Sometimes I find crowds reassuring, other times I feel like I suffocate when there are too many people around.

  My brother wanted to go with me, but I also knew how much Lila was going to be looking for us in the audience, so I told him to stay put. I’d only be gone for a few minutes. There were people still milling around outside; I wouldn’t be alone. But I got lost in the hallways. Someone must have followed me. When my brother found me, I was shaking, curled up on the ground. Alone. The police asked me question after question. Charlotte’s dad didn’t have an alibi but I couldn’t prove it was him.