texts since the Fourth, I’m about to give up on ever hearing back from Starr, I’ve already talked to my mom twice in three days, and there’s nothing new to sketch. Would it be weird to text Martina just to see if she wants to hang out?
I’m holding my phone, composing a totally non-desperate-sounding message in my head, when the screen lights up.
Have you seen the windmills yet?
Caden. I press my lips between my teeth.
Only in passing.
Come with me on a little stroll?
It’s eight fifteen. I’ve never seen him leave Windermere this late. Much as I’m sure walking off with Caden into the night is a bad idea, I’m also a little curious and a lot bored. And the illogical part of my brain doesn’t want to believe he’s a bad person, despite the photo evidence.
Your mom won’t mind?
Doreen’s here with her tonight. She’ll be okay.
I don’t ask who Doreen is. A nurse or a friend. Either way, my boredom has already gotten the better of me, as has the voice that says I need to put in some face time with Caden sooner or later, otherwise he’ll definitely know something’s up. I’m going.
Ten minutes later, we’re leaving Linden Lane, walking toward town. The sun is rapidly sinking, the warm summer dark settling in. When we’ve walked a ways down Main Street, he motions for us to turn right, just past the marina. Then we take a left onto a street I haven’t explored before with Paisley.
“This way. We’ll cut through Parrish Park.”
“Parrish Park?”
“I’m surprised Paisley hasn’t taken you there yet. Part of the lake’s roped off for swimming, and there’s a lot more shade than at the beach.” I catch him casting a wayward glance at my arms, which are still noticeably red under the yellow streetlamp light, and starting to peel.
“Little brat,” I laugh. “She’s been holding out on me.”
“The Arling Windmill’s right on the other side of the park. Technically I think it’s on park grounds. If you’re on foot, you can cut straight through.”
As we walk, he gives me the post-fire updates. Mrs. Talbot has been upset all week, the trauma aggravating what Caden refers to as her positive symptoms, which involve scattered thoughts and the occasional hallucination. There doesn’t seem to be anything positive about either of those things, but Caden explains that the psychotic behaviors associated with schizophrenia are classified in this way. Hence, the presence of Doreen—who turns out to be the childhood friend they’d been visiting in the city over the Fourth—for the weekend.
Again, I wonder if Caden could have really set the fire. He would have to have anticipated its impact on his mom’s health, likewise the absence of her horses, who Caden says are being temporarily boarded at a stable fifteen minutes north. I wonder fleetingly if Mrs. Talbot could have set the fire herself during a hallucinatory break from reality, then feel immediately guilty for assuming things about her illness I can’t possibly know.
But if I rule out the Talbots, that doesn’t leave much of a suspect pool.
Caden’s acting remarkably normal around me. He’s not holding anything back in his description of the fire’s aftermath, nor is he asking me leading questions or doing anything to signal he suspects me of snooping or theft. Either he didn’t set the fire, or he’s a very good liar. Either he doesn’t have any idea I found the flash drive, or he’s a very good liar.
Which he must be. Considering he had this whole town—and maybe even Zoe herself—fooled about his devotion.
True, he wasn’t technically cheating if I trust the emails; he cared enough for Zoe to tell the mystery girl they had to wait until he figured things out. That’s respectable, to a point. But if he finally got up the nerve to break up with Zoe over winter break, and things went badly … I cast a sideways glance at Caden. I wonder where the girl from the photos is now. Maybe she’s just collateral damage in this whole mess. Or maybe when Caden wouldn’t step up and end things with Zoe, “Ida” took matters into her own hands. …
Both scenarios make my stomach twist.
“Honestly,” Caden says as we enter the park, both of us willfully ignoring the parrish park closed after sundown sign, “I know this might sound a little strange, but it’s a bit of a relief.”
“What is?” I ask, digging my flashlight out of my bag and shining it on the walkway in front of our feet.