Page 45 of Liar
“And … how do you feel about that?” I ask it in a whisper.
“A lot’s happened in a year,” is all she says.
Savannah stares forward again, then suddenly points. “Alejandro, we’re here.”
“Yes, miss.” Alejandro pulls the car to the curb.
I straighten and stare out the window, confused. “This isn’t the school.”
“We’re taking a detour.” She pushes her door open. “Come on.”
“I don’t think I want to.” My hand hovers over the handle as I stare out, taking stock of the cemetery before me.
Savannah’s found the one spot Raven’s Bluff doesn’t manicure and maintain. A cracked sidewalk gives way to overgrown, patchy grass. Crumbling stone columns sag under the weight of a wrought-iron gate, pitching at such an angle that it can’t close all the way. It doesn’t matter since there’s no need to keep anyone out or in. Neglected, broken tombstones pepper the untended land until it ends abruptly on a cliffside. All that separates the ghosts from the water is a waist-high stone fence, and even that is easily scalable.
“Creepy,” I mutter.
“You don’t have a choice,” Savannah snaps.
I whip around in my seat, assessing her true face again—hate, anger, vengeance. I ask through the side of my mouth, “Alejandro, you wouldn’t mind dropping me off at school while Savannah pays her respects in the cemetery, would you?”
Savannah storms around the back of the SUV, throws open my door, and yanks me out.
“Ack—Jesus! Savannah, let go of me!”
My messenger bag lands beside me with a plop.
As soon as I’m free from the vehicle, Alejandro peels off without so much as an apologetic glance.
“Is he coming back?” I ask the back of the SUV.
“Follow me.” Savannah steps into my vision. “Or do I have to drag you through the gate?”
“I’ll walk.”
She swivels, and I follow her into the old cemetery. It’s early enough that the fog is still lifting, adding to this place's forgotten, haunting vibe. “Why are you so angry? What have I done?”
Two thoughts follow my question. Does she know what happened between Thorne and me last night, and I’ve seen her angry—this is the toddler tantrum version of her rage. There’s no way she could know.
Savannah takes us behind a sarcophagus mausoleum with the name MERRICOURT engraved above the parapet. It’s not as ignored as the other gravesites, just spots of green moss in the corners and growing over the ornamental carvings.
“You brought me to your family plot?”
“This is the only safe place for me to talk. No one comes here.” Savannah spins around, crossing her arms. “What’s your angle, Ember?”
I shift on my feet, uncomfortable with the sudden coastal wind barreling into my face. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve missed a lot in the past year, but not once did I think there would be a girl who so smoothly took my place.”
Savannah’s sunny blond hair is so out of place here, whipping around her face like a solar flare while mine blends into the gray cast to the whole scene.
“Well?” Savannah prods.
“None of this was planned. I’m not positive on the details, but I’m pretty sure Damion told Malcolm that I existed over the summer, and he brought me here as his estranged daughter. I had no idea who he was”—I splay out my hands—“what all this was until I was forced to step into it as a long-lost Weatherby. And no, I’m not in it for the money. If I could go back home today, I would.”
Savannah lowers her brows. “Why can’t you?”
I gnash my teeth, chewing on how much to tell her. Then again, what I’ve been through is nothing compared to what she experienced. I figure I owe her the truth. “I was stolen from Malcolm. My birth mother died having me, and the doctor who helped with the labor sold me to a couple desperate for a baby. My parents. At least, that’s Malcolm’s story. A paternity test proved the most important part of it. Malcolm’s threatening to take my illegal adoption to the police and have my parents arrested for kidnapping if I try to go back to them.”