Beneath Her Skin Gregg Olsen (good books to read .txt) 📖

But with Katelyn Berkley’s death, there was no do-over.

“I heard her mother calling up the stairs, and I got out of there as fast as I could. I swear I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen. I just wanted a girlfriend.”

“I’m really proud of you, Teagan,” Annie said, meaning every word. “I know that telling me all of this was really hard to do, but you got through it. You did a good job in being truthful. That’s something that’s been in short supply around Port Gamble these days.”

She looked at Mindee and Starla. It was a long, searing look and the message was easily understood.

“Teagan’s not going to be arrested, right?” Mindee asked.

“If his story’s true, not likely,” Annie said. “He’s not, but you might be.”

Mindee’s jaw dropped. “Me? What did I do?”

“You and your game,” Annie said with obvious disdain, “lit the fuse here. You might not have meant for any of this to happen, but your online taunting of Katelyn Berkley instigated her death. Plain and simple. It’ll be up to the county prosecutor to decide what kind of blame, if any, to lay at your feet, Mindee.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

For a half hour, the girls whisper-argued through the outlet about the Larsens, their dad’s email from Savannah and whether or not to ask Colton for help. Taylor knew that something serious was up, but she deplored the idea of calling him into the scenario. They could take care of things on their own. They’d done it before. And they could do it again.

“I never figured you’d ever go damsel-in-distress on me,” she finally said in a little dig that felt good.

“It isn’t about going to him because he’s a guy,” Hayley said.

“Your Prince Charming. Ugh! Your boyfriend. Whatever.”

Hayley tried to let it bounce off. “Look, we can argue about it, but the bottom line is that we need help. He’s got a learner’s permit, and we don’t. Plus his mom’s car is sitting right there. Do you have a better plan? Because we need it now.”

Taylor didn’t, so Hayley texted Colton.

EMERGENCY!

* * *

A breathless Colton hurried down the hall and through the kitchen to meet the girls at the back door. He was wearing a ratty Kingston High T-shirt and slightly shrunken, highwater sweat pants—pajamas that he’d just as soon not have Hayley see. His mom asleep, the house was still quiet.

Taylor had been crying.

“What’s the matter?” he asked as he let them both inside.

“We don’t really know,” Hayley said. “Something’s going on.”

He shut the door and led them to the living room, motioning them to be quiet since his mother was sleeping.

“Is it about Hedda?” he asked.

“No,” Hayley said, looking at her sister.

“Jake?” Colton’s black eyes were awash with worry. “He’s still in jail.”

“We’re not sure, but that’s not why we’re here. That reporter, Moira, is causing all sorts of problems. She’s working on a story about the crash… about some things related to the crash.”

“About us,” Taylor said.

It was coming too fast at Colton. “What about you?” he asked.

The girls had agreed in advance that they could trust Colton, but it still was too big, too scary to share. Long ago, they both decided it would be better if no one knew. Ever.

“Some gifts should be shared but the source never revealed,” their grandmother had once said.

“Like giving a ham or something to a poor family?” Taylor asked.

“Like that. Sort of. Shared, but never revealed.”

As the three teens conferred in the living room, Shania came down the stairs in her pretty, pale-blue bathrobe, the color of a robin’s egg.

“It’s very late,” she said, in a way that was more comforting than confrontational. “Is there something I need to know about?”

She looked at Hayley, Taylor, and finally at her son. It was clear, by the way in which she wore her emotions on the surface, Taylor would be the one to speak.

Her tears started up again. “Mrs. James, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that we came over.”

“You girls are like family. You’re always welcome here.”

She pulled them in the direction of the couch and sat them down. Colton remained standing.

“Mrs. James, this has something to do with the crash,” Taylor said, talking as fast as she could. “Some reporter is writing about it, and she’s talked to someone who is upset about what she told her.”

Shania told Taylor to slow down.

“Take a breath,” she said, confused about where the conversation was going. “Tell me more.”

Hayley took over, telling Colton’s mother about how Katelyn’s death and the ten-year anniversary had inspired Moira Windsor to do some kind of an update.

Shania nodded. “I’d been thinking about the anniversary. I do every year as spring approaches.”

“My mom does too,” Taylor said, back in the conversation.

Of course she does, Shania thought. She almost lost you both. More than once, in fact.

“A researcher evaluated us when we were little, and the reporter is going to put it in the story. Medical stuff about us. Private things.”

Hayley didn’t mention that the researcher had done the study prior to the crash, and she was grateful that neither Colton nor Shania asked about it.

“What does your father say? Your mother?”

“They want us to leave it alone. But I know they are worried too.”

This time, Colton spoke up. “She sees this as her big story. She won’t listen to reason.”

“She’s been Internet-stalking us,” Hayley said.

“Mrs. James, we need to get out of here tonight. We need to get to the researcher’s place and see what she’s talking about. We don’t want to read about ourselves in the paper,” Taylor said.

“Colton’s dad will be home tomorrow. He can take you.”

Hayley pushed. “We have to go now.”

Shania looked at the clock over the mantel. It was after eleven. A reporter digging into the past was no good. How far back had she gone? What did she know?

“We can’t go anywhere right now,” she said.

“Please,” Hayley said. “Please. I can’t explain it, but