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  I sucked in a breath. “How long until the trial?” I asked.

  “A year,” Donny said. “Maybe eighteen months.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Isn’t there anything you can do?” How would my friend survive a year in prison?

  “I did everything I could for him today, Maddie, I swear, but the feds have dug up some compelling evidence.”

  “What evidence?” I demanded. “All they had was that birthday card and my notebook and some witnesses who said they saw Stubs talking to Payton. How could they keep him in jail for that?”

  Donny leaned over to grab a box of tissues, and he brought it to the table. I was having a tough time. “Here,” he said, offering me the box. Ma got up and went to the cabinet to get a glass, which she filled with water and brought it back for me. She stroked my hair while Donny told me the rest.

  “The search warrant at the Schroder house produced some circumstantial evidence that the jury found compelling. In Stubby’s nightstand they found a hunting knife with a blade sharp enough to inflict the wounds found on Payton Wyly’s body. The knife also had dried blood on it with the same blood type as the victim.”

  I gasped, shocked to my core that Stubby had something like that in his nightstand.

  Donny held up his hand. “Stubs told me the knife was a present from his dad and the dried blood is his. He’d accidentally cut himself with it, and his blood type is O positive, the same as Payton’s. The feds should’ve run a simple test to determine if the blood is male or female, but they claim that they haven’t gotten to that yet, and running a DNA test will take months because the labs are so backed up.”

  A memory floated up from years ago, and I said, “Donny, Stubs is telling the truth! His dad walked out a week after Stubby’s twelfth birthday. That knife was the last present he ever gave him. That summer Stubs got it into his head that he wanted to make himself a walking staff like the one Gandalf used in Lord of the Rings, and while he was working on it, the knife slipped and he cut his hand really bad. If you look at his left palm you’ll see the scar.”

  Donny nodded and put up his hand again. “I saw the scar, kiddo and I’m going to subpoena his medical records to show he got stitches for it, but still, this is all evidence the DA is presenting simply to move the case to trial. They didn’t have to prove that the knife was the murder weapon today. They only had to prove that it could be the murder weapon.”

  I wiped at my cheeks with the tissue. I hated what was happening to Stubs.

  “There was more evidence that was a little harder to explain, though,” Donny went on.

  “Like what?” Ma asked.

  “They found some hiking boots in Mrs. Schroder’s closet with a tread pattern similar to the footprints found at the murder scene. I saw the boots and they’re two sizes too big for Stubs. His mom says they were her ex-husband’s, and she’s kept them all these years because they were like new and she was waiting to see if Stubby would grow into them before she gave them away to Goodwill.”

  I shook my head, feeling bitter. “They’ll try to make anything fit, won’t they?”

  Donny pressed his lips together. “Some stuff they didn’t have to work too hard at.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “On the day of Payton’s murder, Stubby was seen by the Wyly’s neighbor, skateboarding up and down her street. The neighbor is a retired cop who happened to be working at his computer, which faces the road. He had a good view of Stubby and picked Stubby’s photo out of a six pack—a set of photos of random people including the suspect, similar to a police lineup,” he explained. “He says that Stubs cruised up and down her street for a good half hour between three and three thirty P.M. That not only puts him at her home but within a half mile of her abandoned car.”

  “Why was he at her house?” I asked, wondering why Stubby would do something so dumb.

  “He says he was worried about her and wanted to keep an eye out from a distance. He’d been hoping that she’d stay in on her birthday and take the new car out the next day, so he was waiting and watching for any sign of that. He swears he thought that’s exactly what’d happened, because other than a brief interruption to take a whiz in the woods, Stubby watched her house until about four and never saw her leave. We now know she left while he was in the woods.”

  “But if he was in front of her house during that time, then he couldn’t have abducted her!” I pointed out.

  “That’s the thing, Maddie,” Donny said. “No one knows exactly what time Payton was abducted. She was due at her friend’s house at three forty-five. Her car was found half a mile away from her home, and she left her house sometime between three and three thirty. The timeline is tricky and no one saw her leave, not her parents and not even the retired cop, because after watching Stubby head toward the woods down the street, he got a phone call and claims he was distracted for the next hour.”

  “Is there any good news?” Ma asked.

  Donny shook his head. “Not really. In fact, it gets worse.”

  “How much worse?” I whispered. I didn’t know how much more bad news I could take.

  Donny sighed again. “As you know, Stubs had run a search on his phone of the Tibbolt’s address and phone number the night you called Mrs. Tibbolt. For whatever reason, he bookmarked the search. The feds presented a screenshot of the search on Stubby’s phone in court, along with several other screenshots of other searches he’d done in the days after Tevon went missing but hadn’t yet been found murdered. All those searches were the same. Stubby had Googled the words Tevon Tibbolt death. The second those searches went up on the screen, the court collectively gasped. It was incredibly powerful.”

  “Donny,” I said, knowing the way Stubby’s mind worked almost as well as my own. “Stubs was upset about the fact that Tevon was missing, and he believed me when I told him that Tevon was dead. He was only trying to do a search to see if Tevon’s body had been found. He had no idea he’d been murdered!”

  Donny sighed heavily, like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I know, Maddie, but there was no way I could defend against that today. Especially since the DA also presented evidence from the coroner that Tevon was likely murdered by the same blade that killed Payton, and that Tevon’s blood type was also O positive.”

  I knew from freshman biology that O positive was the most common blood type. But still, why did Tevon and Payton have to share Stubby’s blood type?

  Donny rubbed his temples like he had a headache. “Basically, the pretrial was all downhill from there. And there was another detail the DA brought up, and that’s that they also found an empty box of Marlboro Lights in his trash can.”

  Ma’s gaze flickered to the ashtray on the table. There was a used Marlboro Light butt in it. “Why was that relevant?” she asked him.

  “The killer tortured both Payton and Tevon by burning them with a Marlboro Light cigarette butt. Again, they’re testing the DNA against Stubs, but it’ll take months.”

  In an instant I knew exactly where that box of smokes had come from. “No, Donny,” I said. “They’ve got it all wrong! Stubby got that cigarette box from me. He dressed up like James Dean for Halloween, and he needed the pack to roll up into his shirtsleeve. He’s never even smoked a cigarette in his life!”

  Donny nodded, like he’d heard that already from Stubs, but then his gaze dropped to the table and I knew there was more he wasn’t telling us.

  “What?” I demanded. This was all so damaging; I didn’t know how much worse it could get.

  “The DA officially filed additional charges today, Maddie. They want Stubs for Tevon’s murder, too. And because there’s some evidence linking you to Tevon, it’s likely that you’ll be named as a coconspirator before this is all over.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face so fast that I became dizzy and light-headed. “Wha…what?” I whispered.

  “It’s the notebook,” Donny said. “The DA is claiming it was the playbook Stubby was using to
choose his next victims.”

  Ma put a hand over her mouth and stared at Donny like she couldn’t believe it. “Are they going to arrest her?” she asked.

  Donny shook his head. “Not right away. They’re trying to build a strong case against Stubby. If they feel they have a good, solid case, one that they can definitely win, then they’ll go after Maddie. He’s the linchpin. If they nail him to the cross, then it’ll make their case against her that much stronger.”

  The dizziness persisted, and I realized my breathing was coming in great big gulps. I couldn’t get enough air, yet I was sucking in oxygen as fast as I could. The edges of my vision started to get fuzzy, and Ma and Donny’s voice sounded far away. I knew from experience that I was having a panic attack, but knowing what was happening didn’t help lesson the attack. As I was gasping for air, Ma pulled out my chair and pushed on the back of my neck to get me to bend over at the waist. I was starting to black out. Then Donny put a brown paper bag up to my mouth, and I shut my eyes and tried to focus on Ma, who was gently telling me to keep breathing in and out as slowly as I could manage.

  After what felt like forever, I started to breathe more normally. And then the dizziness faded and I pushed the bag away. “I’m okay,” I said, and Ma let me sit up.

  Donny tucked my hair back behind my ears and said, “I’m sorry, kiddo. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”

  The tenderness in his voice was so sincere. It almost made what he’d said bearable. “No. I needed to know. How long do you think I have before they arrest me?”

  “A few weeks at least,” he said. I didn’t know if I felt relieved or even more scared. “Hey,” he said, cupping my chin. “That’s time, Maddie, and it may be all we need to clear this whole thing up. While the feds are focused on you and Stubby, I’m going to focus on building the case for someone else as the killer. I’ve got my PI back on the case, and I’ve also sent out the blood from the knife they took from Stubby’s nightstand to my own lab for analysis. We’ll work this until the feds are forced to consider someone else as the killer. Until we make it clear to them, you gotta have hope, okay?”

  I nodded, but I didn’t feel very optimistic.

  Donny stood, and after looking at his watch he said, “I gotta go. I’ve had a hell of a day and it’s a long drive back to Brooklyn. I’ll call you if anything new develops.”

  Later, while Ma and I ate dinner, we watched the evening news together. The lead story was about Stubby, and the anchor told the audience about the results of the pretrial.

  While the reporter covering the story talked, the broadcast flashed images of Payton’s car, her class picture, and finally a photo of the woods where her body was found. Then the shot moved back to the reporter, who talked about Stubby arriving in court. Two policemen escorted him into the courthouse—only the person being escorted looked nothing like Stubs.

  He was wearing an orange jumpsuit and shackles. His hair was a shaggy mess, and he appeared to be much thinner than the last time I’d seen him. His face lifted toward the camera and my breath caught. Looking back at me wasn’t the chubby-cheeked, baby-faced kid I’d grown up with. Instead I saw someone with vacant eyes and a hardened expression. In that moment I saw him as the entire television viewing audience must have seen him—guilty.

  I set aside my dinner and stood up. “You okay, sweetie?” Ma asked me.

  I shook my head. “I need some air.”

  She started to say something more, but I shook my head and she fell silent. Moving to the door I tugged it open and stepped out onto the front porch to let the cold night air wash over me. Stubby’s image had rattled me for so many reasons.

  My gaze landed on the mailbox at the bottom of the drive. Ma never got the mail, and I knew I hadn’t retrieved it in several days. I stepped out from the porch and began to walk toward it, and that’s when I saw a car drive past. It was a dark SUV, and as it cruised in front of me, the light from the streetlamp sent a beam across the interior. I came up short. My principal, Mr. Harris, was behind the wheel.

  For the briefest of moments, our eyes met. His registered surprise at the sight of me, and then they turned dark. Angry. Murderous. But he didn’t stop. Shaken, I turned on my heel and ran back inside without bothering to collect the mail.

  TUESDAY I COULD HARDLY CONCENTRATE at school. Nobody bothered or bullied me, but there was an underlying tension all around me in the halls and in class. I was like that guest who stays too long at the party—everybody just wanted me to leave. The atmosphere was made all the worse when it was announced at the end of seventh period that Mr. Harris would no longer be our principal, and for the time being, the vice principal would be taking over as head of the school. All eyes in my ceramics class had turned to look at me, and it was obvious that everyone believed I was responsible for getting Harris fired.

  After school I wanted to be alone—but not holed up in my room hiding from Ma, who was so upset and worried, too, that she’d been hitting the bottle hard again. I decided to head to the park where Stubs and I often hung out. It was over in Jupiter, and there was a half-pipe there. Kids were boarding all over it, and I grinned at the memory of Stubs trying to hang with them when he really was the clumsiest kid ever. I missed him so much; it physically hurt. I sat feeling helpless on a park bench for a long time, all the hope draining out of me like a slow, painful leak.

  When I was good and numb with cold, I pushed myself up from the bench and reached for my bike. “Hey!” someone called.

  The voice that had called out was familiar. I froze for a second before turning to see Aiden make his way toward me with a friendly wave. My heart started hammering. I was acutely aware of the moisture that coated my palms. I didn’t know what to say or do. There was a part of me that wanted to get on my bike and ride away, because the second Aiden figured out who I was, he’d never smile or wave at me again.

  But I couldn’t move. I was rooted to the spot. “I didn’t know you came here,” he said, like we were old friends. I drank in the sight of him as he approached. He wore faded jeans and a letter jacket with a bright white J on it. The color of the jacket matched his eyes. He’d strung his cleats around his neck, and a soccer ball was tucked under his arm. “I saw you sitting over here while I was practicing,” he added, gesturing toward the large field next to the half-pipe, where a group of guys was still playing soccer.

  I felt myself nodding, but speaking was proving to be a little more difficult.

  “Cool bike,” he added.

  I looked down. My knuckles were white against the handlebars. “Thanks,” I said, trying to find my voice. “It’s new.”

  “I saw you in the stands at the Poplar game a couple of weeks ago,” he added, grinning at me. His grin was adorable—broad and welcoming. It lit up his whole face. “You go there, right?”

  I swallowed hard and nodded again. What if he knew someone from Poplar High and asked about me? Oh, God, I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him look at me like all the other kids did.

  Aiden didn’t seem to notice my anxiety. His smile remained fixed and friendly and so beautifully inviting. “You left the game before we had a chance to talk,” he said with a wink.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I said, finally finding my voice. “I…I had to get home. My mom wasn’t feeling good.” Such a lame excuse, but he nodded as though he totally understood. I dropped my chin again and found myself fixating on his feet. He was wearing tan work boots. They looked big, but not out of place on him.

  “I’m Aiden, by the way,” he said into the awkward silence that followed—and I realized he was sticking out his hand, waiting for me to shake it and introduce myself.

  “Hi, Aiden,” I said taking his hand, which was warm and smooth. He closed his fingers around my palm, and I thought I’d never felt such raw energy. Heat practically pulsed between us. I was pretty sure I was lighting up like the Fourth of July. “I’m—”

  “Aiden!” we heard someone shout from across the lot. Aiden turned, and a soft bre
eze lifted a few of his dark curls.

  There was a woman in the parking lot, waving to him—and she didn’t look happy. Aiden made a face and turned back to me. “That’s my mom,” he said, turning his hand, which still held mine, to eye his watch. “I have a dentist appointment and we’re already late.”

  I smiled slyly. “You shouldn’t keep the dentist waiting,” I said. “That’s his job.” I’d never had a dental appointment that’d started on time.

  Aiden seemed to get the joke, because he laughed and swung our hands back and forth flirtatiously. “Maybe we have the same dentist.”

  “Aiden!” his mom yelled again. “Right now, young man!”

  With a sigh, Aiden let go of my hand and began to back away from me. “See you around here again sometime?” he asked. “We practice here on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

  I nodded, but suddenly I realized that I could never go looking for Aiden again. Not at football games, soccer matches, or here at this park. He’d learn soon enough who I was, and that smile he wore when he looked at me would fade to a look of judgment. I knew I could take that look from everyone else—the whole world in fact—but not from him.

  “Aiden, this instant!” his mom shouted while he continued to walk backward away from me. He rolled his eyes, shrugging playfully before he flashed me one last smile and jogged over to her car. As the car backed up, he sent me another little wave. I stood there for a long time. Part of me couldn’t believe it. Aiden had come over to me. He’d smiled at me. He’d talked to me. At that moment a large cloud moved across the sky to hide the sun, and I shivered with cold again and something more…something sad. I knew it was time to let the Aiden fantasy go. But it hurt.