Projection (21 page)

Now she climbed the
sweeping, curved staircase to the second floor, peering into each of the bedrooms. The first one had no furniture, and the brown Berber carpet was barely visible beneath dozens of boxes. Ariel noticed that the boxes bore labels.
Clothes. Shoes. Paperwork
. It took her a second to understand that these were things that had belonged to Gretchen’s mother. These boxes held the remains of someone’s life. Ariel shuddered and shut the door behind her.

The next room appeared to be a guest room, but it was lived in. A pair of men’s pants were on the floor, a razor perched on the edge of the sink. The bed linens were crumpled. A book was on the nightstand.
Living with Grief
.

Her dad sleeps here
, Ariel realized.
He probably can’t bear to go in the master bedroom, let alone sleep there
. She couldn’t blame him, but Ariel felt compelled to see the scene of the crime for herself. She walked down the hall and found a pair of tall white double doors tightly shut. A beige tassel hung from one of the brass doorknobs. Ariel pulled it …

Inside was a king-sized bed that had been stripped of its sheets. On one side was a dark wood nightstand with a mirrored top. On the other side was an identical nightstand covered with fashion magazines, a few pieces of mail, an almost empty glass of water, and a crystal bowl cradling a pair of large diamond studs. Off to the side off the room there was a marble-topped vanity strewn with makeup, a hair dryer, and perfumes. On the mantel over the fireplace
was a framed picture of Gretchen and her parents on a beach somewhere.

Ariel quickly shut the door behind her. No wonder Gretchen had gone to boarding school. Ariel couldn’t imagine having to live in a place like this; part shrine, part storage space. A halfway house caught between life and death.

Finally, Ariel opened the door to the last bedroom. As she peered inside at the walls painted a pale blue, at the full-sized bed draped in a blue-and-white flowered quilt, she felt like Goldilocks.
This room
, she thought,
is just right
.

She stepped inside and took a slow walk around, examining the pictures taped up on the wall next to Gretchen’s bed. Most of them were of Gretchen’s mom, a few of Gretchen and Jessica from back in middle school. Ariel recognized one from eighth-grade graduation, right after Gretchen had won the Oculus Society award. She felt a pang of regret; Ariel had been on a vengeful binge that day, fueled by envy and jealousy. She remembered how beautiful Mrs. Harris had looked up on the stage in her white dress and beige heels, her shiny dark hair skimming the olive skin around her tiny collarbone. After everything that happened, she’d felt terrible for the things she’d said. But how could she have known that the woman would be killed later that same night?

She searched through Gretchen’s desk drawers where she uncovered a few newspaper clippings and Internet printouts.
WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN DELPHI; STRANGLED DELPHI WOMAN WAS PILLAR OF COMMUNITY; NO LEADS IN CASE OF MURDERED MOM FROM DELPHI
.

Ariel skimmed the articles, but there wasn’t any information in them that she didn’t already know. She kept digging. She was just about to move on when she came across a manila envelope at the very bottom of the last drawer, buried under a
stack of old report cards and AYSO certificates. Ariel opened the envelope and took out seven or eight file folders, carefully making note of the order in which they were arranged.

Her eyes widened as she flipped through the first few folders. Gretchen had compiled files on half a dozen women, all of whom were in the Oculus Society. There was Tina Holt, the current President. There were two other women Ariel didn’t recognize … Joan Hedley and Kristen Renwick. And to her surprise, there was Jessica’s aunt, Michelle. Ariel’s heart began to pound as she opened the last folder. Somehow, she knew what she was going to find, and she was right: it was a file on her.

So these are her suspects
.

According to Gretchen’s notes, all of these women—except for Ariel, obviously—were part of the innermost sanctum of the Oculus Society, the secret group that guarded the Plotinus Ability. And one of them, Gretchen seemed to think, wanted her mother dead. Ariel flipped through her own file first. There were pictures of her from eighth grade, printouts of the texts she and Gretchen had sent each other, the web address of the video that Ariel had released. The last few pages contained police documents. There was a copy of the police report from the night Ariel and her mom had been questioned. And on the final page, there was a statement Gretchen had given to the police on the night of the murder:

Ariel’s hands began to shake. Gretchen had seen her. Of course she had.

Her eyes skimmed down to the follow-up section at the bottom of the page, in which the detective had handwritten a note. It was dated July seventh, nearly three weeks after the murder.

Ariel took a few deep breaths and tried to compose herself. The detective who interviewed her had never mentioned that anyone thought they’d seen her at the party. But that was probably the point. He wouldn’t want to tip her off.

So that’s why she thinks I killed her mom. She actually saw me at the party just moments before the murder
.

Ariel closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe evenly. She turned to the file on Michelle. Inside was a slick black-and-white headshot that Ariel assumed Michelle used for auditions, and a photograph of Michelle and Rob at an Oculus Society event. The photo was a few years old; Rob was in a suit, but he’d taken off his tie and loosened his collar. His hair was a little bit longer than it was now, but still slicked back in his signature look.

Michelle’s hair was shorter, and she looked stunning in a red dress and simple gold hoops. There was another
photograph, too, of Gretchen’s dad with four other men. All were wearing golf shirts and standing in front of the snack bar on the ninth hole at the Club. Gretchen had circled one of the men’s faces with a red pen. Ariel recognized him from when she’d worked at the Club. His name was Mr. Renwick. Mike Renwick. She didn’t understand the significance of his presence, though, or why he’d be circled in a picture in Michelle’s file. Frankly, she didn’t understand why Gretchen would suspect Michelle at all.

Ariel was arranging the folders back in order when a chime rang on an alarm pad in the hallway, causing her to startle.

Garage door open
, said a robotic voice. She quickly placed them back inside the envelope and put it back under the report cards and certificates where she’d found it.

“Gretch?” came a voice from downstairs.

Mr. Harris: home from work. Ariel closed the drawer to the desk and took a quick glance in the mirror. There was Gretchen’s face, staring calmly back at her. She ran a hand over her hair to smooth it out and walked toward the bedroom door.

“Hi, dad!” she called.

Gretchen’s dad had brought
home take-out; Caesar salad and “
your favorite, Gretch,”
pizza with olives and green peppers. Ariel tried not to frown as she sat down at the kitchen table. She hated Caesar salad, and olives made her gag.

“So how was your day?” Mr. Harris asked as they settled in.

Ariel wasn’t sure how to answer. She didn’t know if Gretchen’s dad was aware of his daughter’s faux-loser status or if Gretchen just lied and told him everything was great. She decided to go with that old, teenaged standby that seemed to work in every awkward parental situation.

“Fine.”

Mr. Harris frowned. “More of the same?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the kids still aren’t talking to you?”

Ariel shrugged. “Whatever, Dad. I really don’t care.” She took a bite of the pizza, resisting the urge to pick off the olives first.
Mmm
, she thought, surprised.
This is actually kind of good
.

“I just don’t understand why you insisted on coming back, Gretchen. There’s nothing here for you. And you and Jessica were doing so great at Chadwell.” He smiled ruefully. “To tell you the truth, I was really starting to like England. I’m going to miss having Christmas there this year.”

Ariel was glad to know that at least that part of their story hadn’t been a lie. She met Mr. Harris’s eyes. “You’re here,” she said.

He sighed. Ariel got the feeling that they’d had this conversation many times before. “I’ve told you, sweetie, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Great,” Ariel said, smiling. “And I’m fine, too. So we can be fine together.”

Mr. Harris laughed, but his eyes still looked sad. “Touché.”

There was a long silence as they both ate their pizza. Gretchen had warned her before they’d projected that she and her father weren’t the greatest of communicators, but she hadn’t realized it was this strained between the two of them. Ariel thought of her own mother and how she could talk about anything with her. She couldn’t imagine things being this tense between them. Gingerly, Ariel broached the subject she was really interested in.

“So, um, have you heard anything about the police reopening the case?”

Mr. Harris gave her a sharp look. “Gretchen,” he said, in a practiced tone, “the police are not reopening the case. They have no leads. They have no suspects. You need to stop obsessing over it. Your mother wouldn’t want this. She would want you to go on with your life.”

Every muscle in Ariel’s body relaxed upon hearing these words. She hadn’t even realized she’d been so tense. She wanted to reach across the table and hug Mr. Harris. But he’d become suspicious if Ariel didn’t act like his daughter. So she clenched her fists, like she’d seen Gretchen do that night in her backyard.

“Really?” she asked, raising her voice. “You think she’d want her murderer running loose around town? You think she wouldn’t want someone to pay for what they did to her?”

Mr. Harris had tears in his eyes. “Honey, we all want justice,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But the police can’t just go around arresting people without any evidence.”

“Yeah? Well, what about Mike Renwick?” Ariel’s heart was pounding. She was fishing for information, but it was like fishing blindfolded and with both hands tied behind her back.

“What about him?” Mr. Harris asked. He sounded dumbfounded.

“Where was he the night of the party?”

“He was here. Why? What do you know about Mike Renwick?”

Ariel set her jaw. “I know he has something to do with Jessica Shaw’s aunt.”

Gretchen’s father blushed the color of a Christmas card.
Oh, my God
, Ariel thought, suddenly understanding.

“I don’t know what you heard, but Mike had nothing to do with mom. He’s a good man, Gretchen. Yes, he made a
mistake, but whatever happened between them is over.” He lowered his voice. “He’s got a wife and kids, honey. There’s no need to ruin any more lives, okay?”

Ariel looked down at the floor, chastened. “Sorry,” she mumbled. But inside she wondered if Rob knew about the affair. Was that part of the reason why he wanted to leave Michelle? And what
about
Michelle? Had Mike Renwick been her only indiscretion, or were there others?

Mr. Harris suddenly pushed away from the table and stood. For a second, she thought he might leave. Instead, he walked to her and wrapped his arms around her. His hug felt comforting and unconditional, still sturdy beneath his grief. Not like Nick’s hugs, with their undercurrent of neediness and sex. It occurred to Ariel that she’d never been hugged by a father before. She swallowed back a hard lump in her throat.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I know you’re hurting, sweetie. I am, too. But you have to stop trying to figure this out on your own. The police will find out who did this. I’m sure of it. We just have to be patient.”

Even a full twenty-four
hours after they’d switched back, Ariel couldn’t shake the sadness she’d felt as Gretchen. Everything she’d ever thought about the girl had been turned on its head. Sitting here with Nick in the backseat of his car—as she had so many times before in the past few weeks—she only felt half-present, even as his arm crept lazily over her shoulder. She knew she had to snap out of it.

“Earth to Ariel,” he teased.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded. At least Gretchen had made up an excuse
while in Ariel’s body that she didn’t feel well and couldn’t see him. According to her mom, she’d spent the night alone in Ariel’s room, feigning illness. Which was fine by her …

“What are you thinking?” Nick prodded.

“Is it true that you used to like Gretchen?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “What, so now you think I have a crush on her, too? Really?”

“No. I just heard that you two had a thing a few years ago. Did you like her?”

“Yeah, I guess. She was cool back then.” He shrugged. “I feel bad for her. I don’t get why Jessica won’t talk to her anymore. They used to be inseparable.”

Ariel’s heart sped up. “I know. I don’t really understand it, either,” she lied.

Nick gave her a knowing look. “I told you: Jessica’s a pain in the ass.”

Ariel managed a laugh. “No, she’s not.”

“Yeah, she is. She’s bossy, and she’s manipulative, and she doesn’t give up until she gets what she wants. But I guess it’s understandable, given her situation.”

“What do you mean? What situation?”