The Girl Who Stopped Swimming - By Joshilyn Jackson Page 0,96

a thousand times yes.

At last Chuck made his angry way to a guest room. Molly heard him rattling around in the attached bathroom, and then he got quiet. Bunny had already passed out in the master bedroom, the click and stumble of her bedtime routine covered by his.

Molly Dufresne clock-watched. The house had been silent for a good hour before it was time to throw back the covers and go creeping down the staircase. She knew the third stair creaked, and she bypassed it. She knew the alarm code, and she punched it in. She paused by the back door, her heart beating fast and light. She wasn’t afraid of getting caught. The bottle of wine Barb had opened to have with dinner rested empty in the bottom of the trash. Molly could have stomped across Barb’s body singing the Gloria and then dived out her bedroom window without waking her mother. Though Chuck was a heavy sleeper, Molly half wished he would wake up and catch her. Maybe he would stop sniping about lawyers and look at his daughter for a change.

Then Molly was outside, closing the back door gently behind her. She waited on the lawn for a light to go on, for her father’s voice to call her back, but her house stayed dark and silent. She’d done it, this bold thing that was more like something Shelby would do. It had been Shelby’s idea, sure, but Molly was the one who was out alone in the good, dark night, and she found herself picking up speed as she left her yard.

She wasn’t afraid. She was behind Victorianna’s wrought-iron gates, as comfortable inside them as she was in her own skin. She spread her thin arms like airplane wings and ran, in silent, joyful rebellion, through the dark yards, liking the feel of the slick grass under her feet. The streets were lined with old-fashioned lampposts, and now that she was out, she didn’t want to be seen or stopped.

She ran toward Shelby’s, ready for all manner of nonsense. Shelby always made the best plans. Maybe, when they were finished, Shelby’s mom would catch them. She could imagine Laurel calling her house, the shrill of the telephone waking her parents up. Laurel would say, “Barb, do you have any idea where your kid is?”

Her mother would be shamed, and serve her right. Molly could be anywhere. She was practically flying, up to no good, and thrilled about it. Served them all right.

David touched Laurel’s shoulder, and she jumped. He said, “They need a street address for Sissi Clemmens. Either of you know it?”

Thalia said, “I’m not sure she has one.”

“Her trailer is at the dead end of Harold Street,” Laurel said. “It’s the right-hand lot, a double-wide with a blue awning and about seven big pinwheels and some wind socks lined up in front of it.”

David sat back, repeating that dubious address to the dispatcher.

Thalia merged onto U.S. 29, a double-lane freeway that would take them to the state line.

“I can’t figure out what Molly and Shel were doing,” Laurel said. “Everything else makes sense. I can see Shelby sneaking out and going to get Molly, but this is backward. Why did Molly come to our yard?”

“Oh,” Thalia said. “Maybe I know.”

“Did Shelby say something?” Laurel said, rounding on her as best she could with the seat belt holding her.

“No. That boy next door, Missy’s kid? Apparently, he likes a late-night swim. He prefers to swim . . . freely, if you follow me,” Thalia said. “I saw him from the window the other night, while you were still out in the gazebo. He was very much worth seeing, in a The David kind of way.”

“God, Thalia, Jeffrey Coe is a kid,” Laurel said.

“I’m not saying I want to paper-train that puppy. But he’s what? Seventeen? And beautiful? And naked? If I were Molly, I’d pay good cash money to peek at that, all sneaky-like. Hell, I did exactly the same thing at that age.”

Laurel was nodding. “That makes sense. I’d told Shelby no sleepovers while Bet was in town.”

It explained why Shelby had lied, too. At first she hadn’t wanted Laurel to know only that she and Molly had plans to peek over the fence at Jeffrey Coe. Later, when Laurel came to Shelby while she and Bet were watching the movie, she must have been tearing herself to guilty bits inside. Moreno’s endless needling would have made her connect dots and ask herself, over and