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55

NOW (JUNE)

When I get home, I page through Mina’s notes, trying to

fi nd any mention of Jackie’s possible pregnancy. But either

she hadn’t had the time to write it down or she hadn’t fi n-

ished fi guring it out, because there’s nothing in the time

line or her notes to suggest she even suspected it.

I close my lap top after I’ve searched all the fi les. I’m

almost positive an unplanned pregnancy is the reason

Jackie disappeared. I wish it were July, so Margaret Chase

was back from vacation. I didn’t have much hope that she’d

confi rm my suspicions— there are rules about sharing that

kind of stuff—but maybe if I go into the clinic and talk to

her, I’d be able to tell from her reaction. Just to be sure.

“Sophie?” My mom taps on my door before opening it.

I jerk in surprise, and the notebook in my lap falls to the

fl oor. “Yeah?”

“Just checking on you. I made dinner, if you want some.”

“Thanks, but I already ate.”

“With Trev?” she asks.

“No, I went to Angry Burger with Rachel.”

“Your father said Trev was here earlier.”

“He dropped me off after we were done hanging out,” I

say, and her lips pinch together.

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F A R F R O M Y O U

“I see. Well, then, good night.”

“Night.”

As the door closes behind her, I open the notebook in

my lap again. The plastic bag containing the warning notes

are pressed between the pages.

I’m scraping up on the edges of something . . . something

that will make all this clear. It buzzes underneath my skin,

makes me want to pace, to keep moving, forward, upward,

no matter what.

Is this how she felt? This tantalizing reach for answers

that had her addicted and reckless?

I can almost understand it. It’s just another kind of high.

I press my hand over the notes, safely enclosed in the

plastic. What would Detective James do if I brought them

to him now? Would he think I wrote them myself? Would

he laugh in my face?

I would have to ask Trev tomorrow what we should do.

After we talk to Amy Dennings. Maybe it’ll be enough, the

threats coupled with Mina’s notes about the case. Detective

James would have to listen to Trev. He’d have to pay atten-

tion to new evidence, even if it messed with his drug deal

theory. And he’d worked Jackie’s case—he might be able to

draw connections that none of us could see.

I close the notebook, tucking it carefully in my desk

drawer before shutting off my light.

I sleep, but all I dream about is chasing after Mina, her

laughing, and me never quite catching up.

• • •

269

The next day, I drive to the soccer fi eld at quarter to six and

sit on the hood of my car, waiting for Trev. He shows up

fi ve minutes later, and we walk across the wide green lawn,

the summer sun beating down on our shoulders. The girls

are still out on the fi eld, with some parents watching on the

sidelines as Coach paces, watching them carefully, shouting

encouragement or correction.

“Do you know what she looks like?” Trev asks. “She has

dark hair, I think.”

I shade my eyes against the sun, looking over the sea of

heads to pick out the brunettes. We hang to the side until

practice fi nishes and the girls disperse. A girl with a pixie

cut jogs up close to us to grab her bag, and I smile at her

and ask, “Hey, I’m looking for Amy. Is she here?”

“Yeah, she’s over there with Casey.” The girl points to

two girls huddled together. The dark-haired girl is laugh-

ing, and the other, a short redhead, squirts water at her

from her bottle while Amy shrieks and dodges back.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, you’re Coach Bill’s daughter, aren’t you?” the girl

asks. “You used to play.”

“I used to,” I say.

“Your dad’s cool. Way easier than Coach Rob.”

I can’t help but smile. “I’ll tell him you said that,” I say to

her. “Thanks again.”

By the time Trev and I make it across the lawn, the red-

head has walked off, leaving Amy by herself, stuffi ng her

gear into her bag.

“Amy?” I call.

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F A R F R O M Y O U

She turns, her long brown ponytail swinging over her

shoulder. I can see the resemblance to Jackie: the upturned

nose, the sweet expression in her blue eyes. “Yeah?”

“I’m Sophie,” I say. “This is Trev. Can we talk to you for

a second?”

“What’s this about?” She casts a sideways look at Trev

that lasts a little too long. “Do I know you?” she asks him.

“I was friends with your sister,” Trev says. “I think we

met once or twice when you were really little.”

“Oh.” She crosses her arms, looking us up and down. “Is

this about Jackie? Because I don’t talk about her. Especially

with strangers.”

“You talked to my sister about her,” Trev says. “Mina

Bishop?”

Her eyes widen. “You’re Mina’s brother?”

He nods.

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened to Mina,” she

says.

“Thank you,” Trev replies, and there’s a mechanical feel

to it. I wonder, suddenly, how many times he’s heard this

from people. Apologies and awkward silences must be his

reality now. I wonder if he’s as desperate to leave this town

as I am, even as I know he’ll never desert his mom. Not

now.

“But whatever this is about . . .” She looks over her shoul-

der. “My mom’s right over there. I’ve really got to go.”

“Mina did an interview with you, didn’t she?” I ask.

“About your sister’s disappearance? She was doing a story

about it.”

T E S S S H A R P E

271

“No,” Amy says, but she’s not a good liar. Her cheeks

burn red even before the lie’s off her lips.

“Amy, I have Mina’s notes,” I say. “She might not have

recorded all of your interview, but I have the fi rst minute of

it. I know you two talked.”

Amy’s chin juts out, a mulish expression settling over

her face. “We didn’t. I realized it was a mistake, so I left

after I asked her to turn off the recorder.” She looks over

her shoulder again, toward the cars that are pulling into the

parking lot as her teammates pack up their gear and join

their parents. “I have to go,” she says.

“We’re sorry for bothering you,” Trev says, and he smiles

gently at her, that comforting, safe smile of his—and, like

almost every other girl in the world, she responds to it.

“It’s okay,” she says. “But I have to go.”

“I know,” Trev says. “I just need to ask you one more

thing, then I won’t bother you anymore. Did you tell any-

one that Mina was doing interviews about Jackie?”

“No,” Amy says. “I didn’t tell anyone. Why does it even

matter? It was just a stupid newspaper story.”

“I’m just trying to fi gure some stuff out,” Trev says.

“Well, I can’t help you with it,” Amy slings her bag back

over her shoulder. “Bye.” She takes long, loping strides

away from us.

She’s hiding something.

“Give me a minute,” I tell Trev. Then I go after her.

“Amy!” I call “Wait a second.”

“Seriously, this is, like, harassment,” she says, spinning

around. “What do you want?”

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F A R F R O M Y O U

“Was Jackie pregnant?”

I’m standing right in front of her, but I could be half a

mile away and see the truth. She sucks in a breath, sharp

and fast, her chest heaving with it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, once

she manages to slow her breathing a bit.

“Bullshit,” I say. “She was pregnant, wasn’t she? And

you knew.”

Amy looks over her shoulder like she’s scared the group

of girls thirty feet away will hear us. Then she grabs my

arm, squeezing tight enough to bruise. “Shut up.”

“Did you know all this time?” I ask, shaking off her grip.

“Did you withhold it from the police? Why would you do

that?”

Amy’s cheeks get red again. The color spreads down her

neck, up her ears. “Seriously, shut up. Do you want some-

one to hear you?”

But I’m ruthless. I have to be.

“How did you fi nd out she was pregnant? Did Jackie tell

you?”

“I’m gonna start screaming in a second,” Amy threatens.

“My mom’s right over there waiting for me.” She points at

the group of grown ups who are talking with Coach and

some of the girls by the parking lot.

“No, you won’t,” I say. “If your mom comes over, she’ll

hear what I’m saying, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want

that. Because I’m pretty sure she has no idea about this,

does she? Answer my question: how did you know your

sister was pregnant?”

T E S S S H A R P E

273

“God, I thought Mina was bad,” Amy spits out. She

comes closer to me and lowers her voice. “What is with you

people? Can’t you just leave us alone? Do you think I feel

good about this? I was eleven when Jackie disappeared. I

barely knew what a pregnancy test was, or what it looked

like. I didn’t think it was important when I found it. By

the time I realized what it meant, Jackie’d been missing for

two years. My parents—they don’t need to wonder about

a grandkid, okay? They already have enough unanswered

questions.

“Did you tell Mina Jackie was pregnant?”

“Why is that even . . .” Amy stops. Her mouth hardens;

when she squares her shoulders, I see determination in her.

“Look, Mina was nice, okay? I refused to talk to her for a

long time, I was a total bitch to her, and she was still nice to

me. She wore me down.” Amy digs the toe of her cleat into

the grass, avoiding my eyes. “She promised she wouldn’t

tell anyone. That it was off the record.”

“Mina kept your secret. She was good at that.”

“Are you going to keep it?” she asks, the tremble in her

voice almost under control.

“No,” I say, because I won’t lie to her.

She glares at me. “Why not?” she demands.

“Because whoever took Jackie killed Mina,” I say. “She

wasn’t just doing a newspaper story, Amy. She was trying

to fi gure out who took her—trying to crack the case—and

she died for it. Right in front of me. So I can’t keep quiet,

okay? Because this . . . this isn’t a little thing. This is
motive
.”

Amy’s mouth drops open in surprise. She steps back from

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F A R F R O M Y O U

me, her cleats digging hard into the soil. “You mean . . . you

think . . . Matt. You think Matt took her. That he killed her

because of a baby?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I say. “But it’s a possibility.”

“And you’re gonna . . . what? Catch him? How the hell

are you gonna do that? If what you’re saying is true, the

police didn’t fi nd enough on him to arrest him for my sis-

ter. He already shot someone in front of you, and the police

didn’t catch him then, either. What are you gonna do that

they couldn’t?”

“At least I’m aimed in the right direction,” I say.

“Detective James bungled Mina’s murder case. He was in

charge of Jackie’s case, too. Who knows what he overlooked

back then. No one is looking in the right places. I can at

least try.”

“If it’s Matt . . .” She stops, like she can’t even say it. Like

the hope for answers is too much. “If it’s Matt,” she says

again, stronger this time, “do you think he’d tell us? Do you

think they could make him tell us where he put her? So

we could bury her?” Her voice cracks on the last question,

and I realize that she harbors none of the hope that Matt

claimed to have. That there’s something worse than having

a grave to visit.

“I’m going to try,” I say, because I hadn’t been lying to

David that day in therapy. I want to be able to keep my

promises.

There’s a prolonged honk coming from the parking lot,

and Amy jerks, looking over her shoulder. The group of par-

ents near the parking lot has scattered, and a woman with

T E S S S H A R P E

275

blonde hair is leaning out of a SUV, waving at Amy. “That’s

my mom,” she says. “I have to go.” She grabs her bag, sling-

ing it over her shoulder. “You’re not just some crazy drug

addict, right?” she asks. “Because even the freshman hear

stories about you.”

I let out a breath, half laugh, half shame. “I’m a drug

addict,” I say. “I’m in recovery. But I’m not crazy. Not about

this. I promise.”

“Okay,” she says. “Just . . . be careful, then.”

“Thank you,” I say. “For telling me the truth.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” she says. She hurries away

across the fi eld before I can answer. I watch her for a

moment before Trev comes up behind me.

“What was that about?” he asks.

“Jackie was pregnant,” I say. “Amy just confi rmed it.”

“Seriously?
Jackie?
” Trev looks shocked. “That means

Matt—”

“Yeah,” I say. Trev frowns, not following me as I start

toward the parking lot. I stop and turn back to him. “What?”

“How did you fi nd this out?”

I dig inside my purse, coming up with the plastic baggie

containing the threats, handing them over to him. “Don’t