The Girl Who Stopped Swimming - By Joshilyn Jackson Page 0,45

said Laurel, and yoga breaths or not, she could feel herself heating. She wasn’t angry, exactly. More like exasperated. “You don’t believe in ghosts, or God, or marriage or country or that puppies are really that damn happy. You don’t believe in anything.”

“That’s not true,” Thalia said automatically. “Come back down here. I want to see you.”

Laurel got up and joined her sister on the mat. They sat cross-legged on opposite ends, facing each other. Thalia stared hard at Laurel, as if trying to see past her tired eyes, all the way into her brain.

“I’ll tell you what I believe. I believe you mean it,” Thalia said. “I believe seeing ghosts is your way of telling yourself something is bad wrong. I believe you’re smart. If you feel it this strongly, then I believe it’s true. That’s a pretty long list.”

“That’s really only one thing,” Laurel said. “You’re saying you believe in me, and that’s the only thing that matters right now, Thalia. Please come home with me.”

Thalia didn’t answer for a solid minute. Then she said, “I remember Molly. Even at eleven, she looked to me like she was going to grow into a beauty.”

“She did,” Laurel said.

“Lay it out for me, Bug,” Thalia said. “Like Aunt Moff lays the cards.”

“Hearts for love, diamonds for money,” Laurel said.

“Don’t leave out the ace of spades. Not this time,” Thalia said.

So Laurel started at the beginning, trying to think of the events as cards she was turning up, and it was better that way. It came out clearer than when she’d tried to explain to David in the basement. Thalia listened, not speaking at all until Laurel had wound down to the end: David calling Mother to the house, and the lie she’d let stand to get to Thalia.

The first thing Thalia said was, “Typical David, but at least this time you see it.”

“You’re missing the point,” Laurel said.

“Am I? Fine. You have a ghost, Shelby’s empty bed, and you think you saw a creepy, dateless man’s hair. It’s not much, Bug. I don’t suppose the creepy-hair guy wears pink Izod shirts and rooms with some genial tanning-booth godlet that he introduces as ‘Sean, my life partner’?”

“No,” Laurel said.

“If he’s gay, I’ll probably be able to tell right off. All these years with Gary, I’ve developed a nose for it. You need to get me in a room with him.”

“We can do that,” Laurel said, ready to agree to anything. It sounded like Thalia’s scales were tipping in her favor.

“Stan Webelow,” Thalia said. “Are you sure this isn’t you—you know—projecting?”

She’d said Stan’s name. Not Marty’s. But now Laurel was certain that it was Marty’s memory in the room with them. They sat quietly, both thinking of Marty Gray, and of all the bad things that can happen to young girls who are shy and good and obedient. The secret keepers. The easily led.

“I don’t know,” Laurel said honestly. “It’s possible, but I can’t gamble. Not when it’s Shelby.”

“If he’s not in love with God, nor man, nor woman, it has to be going somewhere,” Thalia said. She quirked up one eyebrow. “Does he keep goats?”

“Thalia!”

Thalia stretched her arms up over her head. “Bug, this could all be in your head. You think he dragged Molly through the neighborhood all the way to your pool and then banged her in the head with a brick and drowned her? The forensics would have shown that.”

Laurel shrugged. “What if he was just . . . there? Maybe Molly was going to tell. Say she has plans to meet up with Shelby and she’s going to spill their secret. She’s threatened Stan? Or she’s just left his house? Somehow he knows. So he comes to stop her. The pool light’s the only one on in the backyard, so Molly waits for Shelby there. She’s sitting on the diving board. He sees her, she sees him. She’s startled. She jumps up, misses her footing, falls, and hits her head. And he does nothing. He watches. He’s the shadow I see slipping away, thinking his secret has taken care of itself.”

Thalia was nodding. “Okay, that works. Criminally negligent homicide.” Laurel raised her brows, and Thalia went on. “What? I watch CSI. Your scenario is possible, but it’s not the most likely one I can think of. We’re predisposed to look for perverts in the bushes, you and I. On the other hand, the world is full of predators. If you even slightly suspect you had something toothy