Anne Brown - Promise Bound

“And,” I said, continuing my rehearsal for the Gabby Show, “Jack’s always had a flair for self-pity. He probably imagines you’re all thinking ‘good riddance.’ ” I dug in my purse for my best red lipstick and traced my upper lip with a perfect V. The trick to lying, I’d learned, was to keep the story simple, and to avoid retelling it as much as possible. Get asked about any details, plead forgetfulness because that’s where you tripped up.

I exhaled and got out of the car. When I came through the door to Big Mo’s, Gabby was already at the hostess station waiting for me. Her face told me she was surprised I actually showed up. She gave me a halfhearted hug, the one-armed kind where your bodies don’t touch. When she pulled back, she looked past my shoulder like she really didn’t want to have this conversation either.

There are some people who you can go without seeing for a year, and then as soon as you reconnect, it’s like you picked up where you left off. No beats missed. Gabby was not going to be one of those people.

“We’ve got a table at the back,” she said, turning.

We? I could feel my feet following, but my brain was scrambling for the door. I rounded the soft-drink dispenser and I was like, Oh, no no no no . This is not happening. I could lie about Jack to Gabby all day, every day, and twice on Sundays, but to her parents?

“Thanks for joining us, Lily. It’s nice to see you again,” said Mr. Pettit. Mrs. Pettit, whom I’d met only once, smiled weakly at me. She looked much older than her husband. Dark purple circles hung heavily under her eyes. She was a thin woman, thinner than I remembered, and her salt-and-pepper hair fell unevenly across her shoulders.

Gabby slid over to the far side of the booth and waited for me to sit, though for a second I couldn’t remember how.

I counted out three heartbeats, then sat down gingerly as if the vinyl booth had been stuffed with shards of glass. I wouldn’t offer anything. If they wanted to talk about Jack, they’d have to pull it out of me with needle-nose pliers.

“We already ordered,” Mr. Pettit said. “I hope you’re okay with pepperoni.”

My lips tightened against my teeth in a smile that probably looked more like a grimace, and I dug around in my purse for my phone. There was already one text from Calder:

Gabby got you in a headlock yet? Need any help?

Hell’s bells. For a second I thought about texting back: Ambushed! It couldn’t hurt to even up the numbers some, but Mr. Pettit was already talking.

“How’s the house holding up?” Mr. Pettit ran a handyman business, and he’d brought our house back to livable condition after we first arrived a year ago.

“Good, good. No leaks yet,” I said.

Mr. Pettit chuckled, and Mrs. Pettit stared at the table where her plate would go. I looked at Gabby to see if her expression would explain why I’d been brought into this family get-together, but her face was as blank as her mother’s.

“I had lunch with your dad a couple months ago,” Mr. Pettit said, stabbing at his ice water with a straw.

“Oh yeah?” I said. Mr. Pettit’s small talk was starting to feel like slow-drip water torture. Maybe if I took control of the conversation … “He’s really loving teaching at the college, and Mom’s doing great up here, so it turned out not to be such a horrible move after all. At first I thought—”

“Your dad tells me you put off college this year. How’s that going for you?”

Okay. So much for small talk. I hadn’t rehearsed my answers to questions that focused on me. Best to play it off. I shrugged and picked up my water. Hopefully no one noticed the ice trembling in the glass. “I decided to wait a year. No biggie.”

“ ‘No biggie,’ ” said Mrs. Pettit. I think it might have been the first time I’d ever heard her voice. Unlike Gabby’s usual self-assured tone and Mr. Pettit’s steady inflection, Mrs. Pettit’s voice was small and weak. “Excuse me,” she said, and she got up quickly and headed for the ladies’ room.

“Um,” I said. “Did I say something wrong?”

“It’s not your fault,” said Mr. Pettit.

“That’s what Jack always used to say when Mom got on him about putting off school,” Gabby said. “ ‘No biggie.’ That’s what he’d say.”

“Oh,” I said with a tight throat. “Lots of people wait a year.”

“Are you working, then?” Mr. Pettit asked.

“No, I’m—”

“That’s why I asked Gabby to invite you out,” Mr. Pettit said.

Gabby looked up from the table and stared me hard in the eyes. For a second, I wondered if confessing the truth about Jack would be a good thing for them. Maybe they should know that their son had been behind the murders last summer and that, in the end, Pavati—the object of his obsession—had to destroy him. But no. I wouldn’t poison their memories of their son, and I wouldn’t add to their guilt. They’d only blame themselves for not having listened to Jack when he talked about mermaids.

Besides, beyond any of this, I was personally invested in our family secret. Mermaids would remain the lake’s best-kept secret. I’d lie like the best of them. My family’s safety depended on it.

“My mom’s taking antidepressants now,” Gabby said.

“Gabby,” Mr. Pettit scolded.

“Lily should know how Jack’s disappearance is affecting us.”

Here we go . “You lost me,” I said. “I thought we were talking about my education.”

“We’re afraid for you,” Mr. Pettit said.

I raised my eyebrows. Afraid? For me? Their concern was unexpected. I pulled my straw from its paper sheath.

“We don’t want you to go missing, too,” Gabby said. “Do you have any idea how freaked out I was when you didn’t take my calls?”

“Oh! Well, that’s really very sweet, but I–” I twisted the paper wrapping around and around my finger like a ring, but I twisted it too tight and the paper snapped. “I’m fine. I’m sorry for not calling you back sooner.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes people just need someone to listen,” Gabby said, her voice tapering off on the last word.

“You’re right. I should have picked up.”

“It’s just a little odd, don’t you think?” Mr. Pettit said, leaning across the table toward me. “First Jack. Now you. Two kids, with everything going for them, good students, good kids with a plan for their futures, then all of a sudden they just … stop. No ambition, no plan, content just to stick close to the lake. What do your parents think about all this?”

I shrugged.

“We’ve got our theories on what happened to Jack, Lily, but we’re hoping you can shed some light on the situation.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by theories, Mr. Pettit.”

“Oh, come on, Lily,” Gabby said. “Sometimes you can be pretty dense. My dad’s been trolling the shoreline every day since the ice melted.”

I waited. Dense was the best defense I had.

“My wife is hoping Jack’s joined up with some brainwashing cult, which I know sounds ridiculous, but she watches a lot of TV, and it’s a much better option than the conclusion I’ve drawn.”

I waited.

Mr. Pettit folded his hands in front of him as if in prayer. “It’s pretty obvious. Jack’s dead. The same person got him who killed that other kid, and then Brady and Chief Eaton. I don’t see any way around that.” He looked up at me then, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

“I doubt that,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Gabby studying me closely, but Mr. Pettit’s expression brightened just a little.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said. “Lily, I was really hoping you’d have something, some little insight that would tell me I was wrong.”