Keeping Secrets in Seattle - By Brooke Moss Page 0,83

nodded and leaned closer to the window, the hair on the back of my neck standing upright. I recognized Guthrie’s balding head as he stood laughing at something his wife had said, her long braids swaying as she gestured to their houseguest, whose blond hair remained gelled and unmoving in the breeze. Through the distance and closed windows I could scarcely hear the sound of their voices, but one person’s laughter stood out amongst the others.

Watch where you’re going, Muffin Top. The cafeteria is that way.

I’d heard that same maniacal laugh so many times during my teenage years, it haunted my dreams. His face came into focus through the wavy restored glass of my mother’s Victorian-era windows, and every last drop of blood in my body ran ice cold.

I threw open the back door and charged halfway across the yard in the pouring rain before even giving a thought to what I would say when I walked into the Parkers’ yard. I could hear my mom calling my name behind me, but it was muffled like I was underwater. The only sound that came through loud and clear was my heartbeat.

Cameron Hakes was standing on the Parkers’ back deck.

Chapter Twenty-One

July 2, 2004

When Gabe dumped me, I missed the Parkers as much as I missed Gabe’s love. My mom is always worrying about how I look when we go out to dinner. Are people staring at my midnight-black hair and nose ring? Do her clients see the tattoo I’d gotten when I came into her office unannounced? The Parkers never cared what I looked like. Nora tells me I am beautiful even though I look like an emo nightmare on the outside…

Guthrie’s, Nora’s, and Cameron’s conversation stopped as I approached. Cameron’s hooded eyes darted from my face to Gabe’s parents’. Clearly Nora and Guthrie knew nothing, as they just watched me with bemused expressions plastered on their faces, as if to say, That Violet! What a hoot!

“Well, hi, Violet, I didn’t know you were coming to see your mom today.” Nora’s smile was wide.

I didn’t answer her. Barely even heard her. Instead, I thundered up the steps to their porch, rain streaming down my face and back like tiny rivers, soaking my shirt.

As soon as my feet hit the top step, I screeched to a halt and gaped at Cameron. The ice in my veins, mixed with the pouring Seattle rain, chilled me right down into my bones. I started to shiver so violently I nearly toppled over. Cameron’s mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. Despite the southern California tan he was sporting, his face paled.

“Violet, you remember Gabe’s old friend, Cameron. Don’t you?” Guthrie said.

I wanted to say something scathing. To tell the Parkers that they were drinking coffee on their back porch with a sick, twisted rapist who deserved to be castrated, or at the very least, beaten into the deck floor, UFC style. But all of my words dried up like a puddle in the sun.

Suddenly I was at a loss. I was like a scared little girl standing in front of a huge, grotesque monster. Another shiver racked my body, but it had less to do with the rain and more to do with my worst fears being revealed with nothing between us but a barbecue and an Adirondack chair.

Nora furrowed her brow. “Cam, you remember Violet Murphy.”

The paleness on Cameron’s cheeks dissipated, and his mouth pulled back into a knowing grin. He knew that he had the upper hand. I could practically smell his sense of victory. Nobody knew. I hadn’t told. The joke was on me. “Muffin Top. Long time, no see.”

Guthrie’s head turned in his direction. “Muffin top?”

Nora glared at Cameron.

My mind whirled, though my eyes remained locked on Cameron’s. Where the hell was Gabe, and why hadn’t he canceled this visit? Oh, Lord, he wasn’t coming here to kill Cameron, then bury him in the backyard, was he?

Cameron fidgeted under my heavy gaze. His hands went into, and came out of, his pockets two or three times, and he rocked back on his heels while smiling charmingly at the Parkers. My eyes didn’t move from his face, and I hoped that my stare burned like acid on his tanned temple.

“Violet, are you all right?” Nora asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

My voice came out ragged and quiet. “Just a monster.”

Her head jerked back the tiniest bit. “A mon—”

“Is everything okay?” Guthrie put his coffee mug down on the wooden table