Poisonous: A Novel (12 page)

Emma’s lips moved, and Max could read exactly what she said.

Oh, shit.

Chapter Nine

Tommy was oblivious to the tension as the four of them met by the bench. “Hi, Austin! Hi, Emma! We’re going for ice cream. Do you want to come?”

Emma finally looked up from the ground and Max caught her eye. She didn’t need to say anything, Emma knew Max wasn’t going to keep this from her father. “I can’t,” Emma said quietly. “I have gymnastics.”

“Oh. Okay. Next time?”

“Yes,” she said.

Tommy smiled broadly. “Austin, this is Maxine Revere. You can call her Max. She likes ice cream. Emma likes double chocolate chip the best.”

“Yes, I know,” Max said. She gave Emma credit for standing straight and looking her in the eye. “Anything chocolate, right, Emma?”

Emma bit her lip.

Austin stepped forward. “What’s this—a sneak attack? You can’t just show up like this.” Angry. Protective? Possibly. Austin had at first looked surprised, then sheepish, now he was confrontational.

Max didn’t respond to him. “Tommy, where’s the ice cream place?”

“It’s not far. Two blocks down this street.” He pointed. “Turn left, then walk six blocks, then turn right, and it’s one block down.”

“I need to talk to Emma,” Max said. “Can I meet you there in about twenty minutes?”

“Sure!” Tommy said.

“No,” Austin snapped. “Leave Emma out of this. This is between you and me and Tommy.”

Max turned to Austin, sizing him up—he was of average height for his age, which meant much shorter than Max—the same height as Emma. Clean, brown hair that curled at the collar. He looked as if he was ready to hit someone, and he wasn’t budging.

“Austin,” she said, “this is actually between Tommy and me. He’s eighteen, an adult. You’re a minor, but because Tommy wants you involved in our conversation, I agreed to let you come.”

Austin looked confused, but still angry—and suspicious. Good. That made two of them.

Emma said, “Austin, it’s okay. Really. Go. Max will be there if she says she’ll be there.”

He obviously didn’t want to leave Max and Emma but he said, “Okay.” He looked at Max. “You shouldn’t have just surprised us like this. Let’s go, Tommy.” Austin put his skateboard down on the ground while Tommy put on his backpack and grabbed his bike. Max watched after them for half a block.

“Can we talk later?” Emma asked. “I have to catch my bus to get to gymnastics.”

“I’ll drive you,” said Max, setting a brisk pace toward her car, parked just a block away. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Please don’t be mad.” Emma said, following. “You’re going to tell my dad, aren’t you?”

“I don’t keep secrets from David.” Max paused. “Though I think it would be best if I didn’t mention that you were holding hands with Austin.”

Emma blushed and Max would have laughed if she wasn’t so irritated that these kids had manipulated her—and the entire “Maximum Exposure” news team—into investigating the Ivy Lake murder.

“I’m sorry about not being totally straightforward,” said Emma.

“I’m thinking you had more to do with that letter than either Tommy or Austin. Is that why you were asking me so many questions at Lake Tahoe? Trying to figure out how I pick my cases?”

Emma nodded. “It’s totally unfair that Tommy’s being blamed for Ivy’s death. If you knew him, you’d know he wouldn’t hurt anyone. He just wouldn’t.”

Max unlocked the car and typed the address Emma gave her into her GPS system, then pulled away from the curb.

“And besides, Austin needs your help,” Emma continued. “He’s so angry all the time. And it’s gotten worse, since the whole Bella birthday thing.”

“Angry about what?”

“How his mother treats Tommy, et cetera. She’s a total bitch.”

Max cleared her throat. “Well, some people call me a bitch. It’s not always a bad thing.”

Emma gave her a half smile. “They don’t know you like I do.”

“Even people who know me well,” Max mumbled.

“It’s not the same. Mrs. Wallace is … I don’t know exactly how to explain. She has a perfect house and perfect hair and perfect decorations and Bella—that’s Austin’s little sister—is spoiled, not in a good way.”

“Is there a good way of being spoiled?”

“Yes—like when you took me shoe shopping in New York last year. Dad said you spoiled me.”

“A girl can never have too many shoes,” Max said. “And we only bought you four pairs.” Max had been making light of the situation, but it was time to get serious. “You need to stay out of this, Emma. I appreciate your concern, and I admire that you want to help your friends, but you can’t be involved.”

“Does this mean you’re not going to find out who killed Ivy?” Her voice cracked and she blinked back tears.

“I didn’t say that,” Max said.

“You have to. You just
have
to find the truth.” Now the tears were coming steadily and Emma couldn’t stop them. Max didn’t know what to do. She drove the rest of the way to the gym in silence, trying to figure out why Emma was so emotional. Max always kept her feelings to herself. While some people might think that was a deficiency, it helped her do her job.

She pulled into the gym parking lot, parked several lanes away from the entrance, and shut off the ignition. Max looked in her purse for tissues. She found a small package and handed it to Emma. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Emma.”

Emma grabbed the tissues and blew her nose. “But if you don’t find out who killed Ivy, no one will!”

“I will do my absolute best to find the truth. But I’m serious: stay out of this. Austin manipulated you into helping him, he’s manipulating Tommy, and he knew where I was yesterday. I won’t tolerate a lie coming out of his mouth, and I have a feeling he has a whole laundry list of lies he plans on telling me. You don’t want to be in the middle of that. But the primary reason you need to walk away is because of your father. Not only will he not want you in potential danger—because
someone
killed Ivy and that person is most likely someone she knew—but because if you’re involved with one of my cases, your mother will have a fit. I will not be the cause of any more problems between your dad and mom.”

Emma rubbed her eyes. “When are you going to tell my dad?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not?” She sounded optimistic.

“You are. Before he figures it out on his own.”

Emma shook her head rapidly. “No, please. I don’t want to.”

“It will come out sooner or later, and I’m not keeping it a secret. You have until eight tonight to call him.”

“But you’re staying, right? You’re still going to find out who killed Ivy?”

“As I said, I will do my best.”

Emma didn’t make a move to get out. “Austin didn’t manipulate me,” she said. “He didn’t even know about you or your show. I told him all about you. I said if anyone can find out who killed his sister, you could.”

“I understand the situation between your mother and your father, but you could have called me.”

“Dad says you’re overcommitted.”

“I am, but I’m used to it.”

“He’s worried about you,” said Emma. “I noticed in Lake Tahoe. I asked him about it, if someone had threatened you or something like when he first started working for you, and he said no. But he didn’t explain.”

“You’re wrong.” Max had thought the same thing: the way she’d caught David watching her. The concern in his expression.

“No, I’m not.”

Stubborn. Like her father.

Was David worried because of what happened over the summer? Or because she’d jumped back into work after the attack? That couldn’t be it … she’d taken an entire week off to go to Lake Tahoe.

“Emma, you and Austin are friends and I’m not going to tell you not to talk to him. But I don’t want you and Austin doing anything related to Ivy’s murder. Don’t start asking questions on your own. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “I promise. Max, it means everything to me that you’re here.”

Max said to Emma, “Don’t forget to call your dad.”

Chapter Ten

Looking around the ice-cream parlor, Max saw they sold far more than ice cream—turkey sandwiches, novelty gifts, newspapers, magazines, various beverages. The shop was half-filled with teenagers, and the other half mothers with young children.

Austin and Tommy weren’t there.

She stepped outside on the sidewalk, irritated, and was about to call Tommy’s cell phone when she spotted Austin leaning against a nearby light pole. He was watching her while eating the last of his cone.

She walked over to him. “Where’s Tommy?”

“He wanted to leave.” He wadded up a paper napkin and tossed it in a nearby trash can.

“No.
You
wanted him to leave.” Max motioned toward a small table, as far as they could get from the ice-cream-shop traffic. She waited until Austin reluctantly sat down before taking a seat across from him. “We need some ground rules. Emma told me it was her idea to reach out to me with a letter from Tommy, and I believe her. But from this point forward she stays out of it.”

Austin didn’t respond.

That angered her. She didn’t have kids—she didn’t know how to handle them, and she didn’t want to learn. “You’ve led Tommy to believe that I’m some sort of, of—” What word was she looking for? “Angel of justice,” she said, “swooping in with answers so he can get his old life back. And I think you’re smart enough to know that even if I find the truth about what happened to your sister, that’s no guarantee your mother will welcome Tommy back into her house.”

Austin stuck his chin out. She couldn’t read his eyes, which seemed too old for a thirteen-year-old, but she recognized defiance. Maybe because she had spent most of her teenage years defiant. “I know my mom. She won’t have any reason to keep him out. She needs a reason or she’ll cave.”

“Her reasoning sounds like an excuse to me. And if I prove someone else killed Ivy, she could find another excuse to keep Tommy out of her house.”

Austin leaned forward. “Then everyone will know she’s a selfish bigot.”

Bigot. An odd word choice.

“I wanted to talk to Tommy,” said Max. “You shouldn’t have sent him away.”

“And you shouldn’t have surprised him in the park.”

“We were having a nice conversation.”

“Are you for real?”

“Excuse me?” That chip on Austin’s shoulder was still there and growing.

“You want something and you’re using Tommy. He told me what you were asking. You don’t think he wrote the letter.” Austin started to say something else but then stopped himself.

“What are you afraid of, Austin?” she asked.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“I didn’t think you were. But why were you watching me yesterday? You could have approached me, told me who you were.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t really think you’d come. Emma said you were coming, but I had to see it for myself.”

“I’m pretty certain you were listening in to my phone conversation with Tommy last week.”

He glanced away, confirming her suspicion.

“I have a bad habit, Austin. And that’s judging people when I first meet them. But honestly? I’m rarely wrong. Here’s what I think of you, Austin: you’re smart—really smart—but also manipulative. You lie, sometimes you’re sneaky, and you’re angry because things have happened that you think are unfair. And maybe they are. I don’t have to tell you that we rarely have everything just the way we want it. You’re not the only kid who has a screwed up family life. Yet you’re going down a path that is eventually going to land you in serious trouble. You may be right about everything, but your methods are questionable. Tommy feels intense guilt because he thinks you get in trouble because of him, and he loves you. When he talks about you, his face lights up and I know he thinks of you as his
real
brother, not just a stepbrother.

“But, Austin,” she continued, “you are the reason you get in trouble. That said, I have sympathy for you because it seems you have a redeeming quality: Tommy adores you. He listens to you. If I had never seen you talking to him, I don’t think I would like you very much. The only time I haven’t seen complete anger or total disdain on your grouchy face was when you were with Tommy. I believe you truly care about him, and it hurts you that he feels ostracized by your mother. I believe you would do anything to help him. So I’m going to be blunt with you, and you’re going to have to find a way to explain this to Tommy, because the next time I talk to him, I will tell him.”

Max searched Austin’s face for something. He was watching her intently, on guard, but the anger was gone. He was curious, and Max understood curiosity better than anything. She leaned forward and spoke quietly.

“I believe with my entire being the truth is always better than a lie. Your mother deserves to know what happened to her daughter. You deserve to know what happened to your sister. The killer needs to face the consequence of his or her actions. And Tommy deserves to live his life without this cloud of doubt and suspicion hanging over him. But the truth doesn’t always make things easier. The truth isn’t always kind or tied up in a pretty bow. And why? Because of lies and secrets that give everyone a false sense of security. Sometimes the truth hurts.”

Austin looked away. Max tried to read him, but couldn’t. Maybe all thirteen-year-old boys were like this.

“There’s a chance that I won’t be able to prove who killed Ivy. You need to prepare yourself for that.
And
Tommy.”

“I know,” Austin said so quietly she almost missed it. Then he looked at her, and the anger was buried. It was there, deep down, but it was sorrow now that bled through. “Tommy is my brother, Ms. Revere. He needs me. No one else even really listens to him. You’re our only chance.”

“Austin, do you care who killed your sister?”

“Haven’t you been listening to anything?” He glared at her, the anger back. “Of course I care. Because once you find out who it is, my mother will know it’s not Tommy.”

This kid—Max was in over her head. She didn’t know what to say to fix things, to help Austin or Tommy.

She could only do what she could do.