Page 50 of Head Under Water

“Right?” My eyes widen. “No. Trust me. We both hate this.” I jut a thumb over my shoulder at Will, who just opens the dishwasher and begins unloading it.

“Is this where you’re staying? Mom said you were back in town. I just assumed you’d rented a place closer to the school.”

“I’m just here temporarily,” I say.

“She’s looking for a new place,” Will says at the same time.

Cory watches his brother for a second longer than necessary before he turns his gaze back to me. “Hey, I have a friend who rents a townhouse near downtown. If you want, I can get her landlord’s info. They’re decent places.”

“Really? That’d be amazing.”

To my left, Will scoffs. “You hate downtown.” He’s buffing that plate a little too hard.

“Do not.”

“Strangers screaming at two in the morning outside the window of the girl who gets jumpy when someone shuts a cabinet door in a quiet room?” He shrugs, his mouth an exaggerated frown. “Why not? You can’t sleep with a TV on, let alone the river lights.” His eyes meet mine finally. “But sure, Opie, by all means.”

“Oh, relax. You’re acting like I suggested she move to Times Square. We’re talking about Clinton. And it’s nowhere even near The Tavern. Nothing else is open in this town that late. She’ll be fine,” Cory says, waving him off. “If there’s a place available, I’ll take you down there myself. Help you check it out.” His gaze flicks to Will. Just for a second. Like he’s…determining something.

“You are a lifesaver.” I cast a look toward Will, who’s drying another plate less aggressively but clocking every moment of our interaction. The ghost of a memory, the brush of his hand on my shoulder last night flashes in my mind, and I rip my gaze away. Back to Cory. “What were you guys talking about, by the way? Something about the truck at Ruth’s?”

The men exchange a look, but it’s Will who answers. “Cory doesn’t think it was connected to Ruth’s death. I…disagree.”

“You really think it was a delivery person?” I ask before turning to Will. “You didn’t tell me that. You made it seem like everyone thought she was seeing someone.”

“Yeah, well, you were busy accusing me of being a lizard person. Hard to pivot from reptilian overlord to neighborhood watch.”

I press my lips together. “Will.”

His eyes soften. “There was nothing to tell. He doesn’t think it was a big deal. Neither do the moms.” He turns and slides the plate onto the stack in the cabinet. “And apparently, neither do the police.”

“That’s…good news, right? Did you say they’re closing the case?”

Will nods, his jaw tight. “They called our moms this morning. Told them the case is officially being closed. Ruled an accident. Without a note, they don’t want to say it was self-inflicted, but there’s no evidence anyone else was involved. Even with the weird truck and the fact that Ruth lied about who it was. If she did,” Will quickly amends before Cory can correct him.

I fold my hands across my chest. “What if they’re wrong, though? Surely there’s some way to figure out who the man was.” I turn to face Cory. “What did you tell them, exactly?”

Cory moves toward the island, resting against it. “That…I stopped by Mom’s, like, a week before Ruth died. Both our moms were gone, and there was a blue truck in the driveway. I don’t know who it was, but before I left, it was gone. Ruth was fine. At first I thought it was weird, but I don’t know, it might’ve actually been a delivery. No one else ever saw it, and they were both home the day she died. All day. Someone would’ve seen if the driver came back.”

“And you think our moms are hiding something?” I ask Will.

His gaze goes soft, thoughtful. “I just think someone has to know something. It feels weird to not get answers at all. And for them not to want to push harder. If there’s nothing to find, sure. Fine. But it’s not like them.”

“Our moms were the only ones there,” Cory says, his tone bordering on defensive. “If you’re saying someone knew, you have to mean them.”

Will cuts a sharp look his way. The words settle heavy in the air.

Will’s jaw tightens the same way mine does. Like he hates the truth of it as much as he hates hearing it out loud. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

A cold ripple skates down my spine.

Cory puffs out a long breath of air. “We can’t really do any more than we’ve already done. We all loved her. But maybe this is a good thing. Our moms deserve peace, too. This was already hard on them. And only made harder by an unnecessary investigation that was dragged out for no real reason.”

Something sinks in my gut. The finality of this moment. It’s over. It’s really over. “I should…go take a bath.”

Will looks back at me, just once, and nods. “You want breakfast?”

“I’ll probably go out.” I close my door behind me without looking back.