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She seems to understand. She closes her mouth.
I clear my throat. “Taylor, this is important. Once you found out how Gloria truly felt about Aspen, what happened then?”
“She cried. She bawled her eyes out over the fact that she tried so hard to be a good person, but she had these feelings of utter resentment toward another human being. And it wasn’t that she didn’t like you, Aspen. She did. She loved you, even. It wasn’t that. It’s that she hated herself for the feelings she was having.”
Aspen chews on her bottom lip. Good. This is bothering her, but she’s controlled. She’s not simply full of rage.
“So you were the only one who knew how she truly felt?” I say.
“At first, yes.”
I raise my eyebrows. “At first?”
She nods. “Yeah. I guess that’s where I come in.”
Aspen stops chewing on her lip, and her eyes take on a different look. She narrows them, and her features tighten.
I spoke too soon.
There’s the anger.
“Exactly what are you saying?” Aspen asks.
“I may have let it slip how Gloria really felt.”
“To whom?” Aspen says, gritting her teeth.
“You have to understand. Everyone loved Gloria because Gloria loved everyone.”
“I know that,” I say. “Aspen described her as the Miss Congeniality of the team.”
“You did?” Taylor looks at Aspen.
“Yeah, I did. I loved Gloria too. Everyone did. She never had a bad word to say about anyone, and she always looked on the bright side.”
“That’s how she made it look, anyway,” Taylor says.
I clear my throat again. “Go on, please.”
“I was talking to another person on the team.”
“Search your memory bank,” Aspen says without emotion.
“She was a setter.”
“Nancy Mosely?”
Taylor fidgets with her hands. “Right, that’s it. Nancy Mosely.”
“Nancy was a nice person.”
“She and I were talking, and it just kind of came out about how Gloria really felt.”
“You’re not going to tell me Nancy was behind this.”
“No.” Taylor shakes her head. “Someone overheard us talking.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that we heard them leave the locker room when we were done talking.”
“So it didn’t occur to you to check and see if anyone was in there who could overhear you?”
“It wasn’t like that. It’s not like we were having some kind of secret talk. We were just chatting, and it came out. You remember Nancy. She was a nice person. She talked to everyone.”
“Tell me about Nancy,” I say.
“Are you talking to me?” Aspen asks.
“I’m talking to whichever one of you who can tell me a little bit more about Nancy Mosely.”
Aspen wrinkles her forehead. “She was nice. She was a setter. But she was also a good middle blocker, and she loved playing that position. But she wasn’t as good at it as Gloria and I were.”
“So that means you, she, and Gloria would practice together sometimes,” I say.
“Yeah. We did.”
“All right. So she was familiar with both of you.”
“Right. She would’ve been.”
“Do either of you have any idea where she is now?”
“Buck, I don’t have any idea where any of them are now. As you know.”
“Right. Do you know where to find her, Taylor?”
Taylor looks down at her lap. “No. I have no idea where to find her.”
That’s a lie.
I clear my throat again. “Wrong. You do know how to find her.”
Taylor looks up at me then, her eyes wide. “No. I just said I didn’t.”
“And you also looked at your lap when you said it. It’s a classic tell.”
Shit. I’m so angry and anxious to find out who is behind all this for Aspen’s sake, that I just made a major blunder.
I shouldn’t have mentioned the classic tell. Now she’ll force herself not to do it.
“My guess is,” I go on, “that you just pretended not to remember Nancy’s name.”
“You’re wrong,” Taylor gasps. “I would never—”
“Save it.” From Aspen. “Do you have any idea what I went through? After they took me? Look at my legs, Taylor. I notice you haven’t looked at me directly since we got here. Look at the scars on my legs.”
Taylor closes her eyes.
“Open your fucking eyes,” I tell her, “and look at what you helped make happen.”
18
ASPEN
She can’t.
Taylor seems to be physically unable to gaze at my legs. I’ve half a mind to strip in front of her so she can see the whip marks on my back, my missing nipple.
But there are enough scars on my legs for now. Especially… God, I can’t go there.
For a moment, Buck rises, and for another moment, I think he’s going to physically force Taylor to look at me.
But he doesn’t touch her.
Buck is a good man. He knows when to back off.
This is my territory. I will make her look.
I rise and stand in front of her, so she has to actually close her eyes to avoid looking at my thighs.
My thighs, which have whip marks, stab wounds. But my thighs are nothing compared to my calf.
