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remember pills. Little pink pills that Mom and Dad and
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the therapist said were for anxiety. Pills I stopped taking
when I met Danny because you re not supposed to mix
those with vodka.
I turned to him.  I don t remember a lot. I drank a lot
that night. But I loved my sister, Grant, and I would never
try to kill her.
Grant nodded slowly.  I know you wouldn t. And
that s what you said in your statement.
 Oh yeah? What else did I say, since you seem to know
me better than I do, Grant. My voice was sharp and the
words were bitter on my tongue, and I didn t know why. I
didn t know why I was panicking over the fact that Grant
had seen the inside of my real file. The inside of the real me.
Grant scrunched his nose and the Big Dipper folded in
on itself.  I do know you better than you know yourself.
He took a tentative step toward me.  I always have.
When I didn t answer, he kept going without even
stopping to clear his throat.  I thought it was strange too,
how you never got charged, even with all that evidence pil-
ing up. It turns out they never found the paring knife in
the field, next to Ella. Your mom found it in your jeans
pocket the next day. She turned it into your dad, and
the department sent it in for a DNA scan. It was Ella s
blood on the tip. Grant started to pick at a hangnail, but
thought better of it and kept going:  But your Dad testi-
fied for you, said that Ella had cut her finger with it earlier
in the day cutting an orange.
 Did she? I asked, my cheeks growing hot. It was a
strange thing, hearing about myself from someone else.
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Grant shook his head.  I don t know. But that wasn t
the only thing that saved you. He took a deep breath.
 Ella saved you, too. She told the police that she didn t
even remember you being there, next to her in the field
until the very end when she heard you singing.
I closed my eyes, and for a second I saw Ella, her face
in stitches and her eyelids purple, her hair in matted ring-
lets around her head in the hospital bed.  Maybe she didn t
remember anything after leaving the party. She didn t
remember a lot after the surgery, I know that.
 Maybe, Grant said, pushing in the chair.
Panicked swelled in me again and I inched toward
him.  Maybe? You don t believe me do you? You know, for
someone who knows so much about everything, you could
have told me. Grant stepped back, watching me like I was
a wolf, snarling and snapping.  You already made up your
mind about me a long time ago, didn t you? You thought
I was crazy this whole time, and you didn t even have the
guts to make me stop.
 I swear, I 
 So what do you believe, Grant? I took another step
toward him. I was close enough to him now that I could
bump his chin with the tip of my nose.  You read my file
while I m in New York, and they all say I m a murderer.
I m crazy. But then I come back here, and you help me
try to find Ella. I clenched my hands to keep them from
shaking.  You ve been helping me try to find the wolves,
even though you didn t tell me what was in my own file.
Even though you don t know if they exist. What is that?
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Grant rubbed the skin on the bridge of his nose and
shook his head. I held my breath, and everything in the
moldy little office waited with me. I swore even the clock
stopped ticking. Whatever Grant said right now, in this
stretched-out second, mattered more than anything he d
said in the past week. The past seventeen years, really.
He let out of a puff of air.  I don t know.
My heart deflated and sunk into my stomach. I
couldn t look at him, so I stared at the watery brown stain
on the carpet instead.  How do you not know? I whis-
pered.
Claire, listen, He lifted the tip of my chin.  What I
mean is I don t know what really happened out there that
night. But I only needed to read a few pages of your file
to know that I believed you. I ve never thought you were
guilty. Not for a second. Whatever else that file says, it
doesn t even matter.
 What about the wolves? I whispered.
Grant sighed.  I don t know. I m not saying they don t
exist, but there are some things I can t explain.
I pulled my chin away from his fingers. Like Grant,
some things with the wolves I couldn t explain. But that
didn t mean they still didn t exist. It was just so hard to
grab hold of the truth through the secrets and lies. If I
could just find the truth the whole truth about one
thing, maybe I could figure out the rest by deduction.  We
have to find my file. The real one.
 Claire, I m not even sure 
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 I have to look, I said, more forcefully this time.
 Please. I need to know everything.
Grant hooked his hand into mine.  Come on, I ve
got the keys to the old file cabinets. And without another
word, he led me down the hallway and into a small alcove
outfitted with three steel cabinets and a shoddy-looking
desk. I winced when I saw the nameplate: Mike Graham.
He shoved a key into the center cabinet, the tallest
one, and pulled the top drawer free.
I held my breath as his fingers darted over the files, one
after another, until he reached the end of the row.  Weird,
he sad finally, scrunching his nose.
 What is it?
 Your file s not here, either. He glanced up at me.
 Look. Even if some of these files are empty now, at least
the names are still on the labels. But there s nothing in here
with Graham on it.
The sunk settled over my brain like a layer of dust.
 But why wouldn t it be there, with all the other old files?
Grant just shook his head, and reached down to pull
open another drawer, even though it was labeled  LAST
NAMES H-M.
I poked around the makeshift office, but all I found
was a stack of blank manila folders and a string a empty
coffee mugs in desperate need of a wash.
Finally, I came to Seth s office door. I twisted the knob,
but the locked clicked in place.
I chewed my lip, thinking. There was no logical reason
why my file would in Seth s office.
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Was there?
His bulging eyes and puffy belly popped into my
mind. You look just like your father when he s trying to lie,
all twitchy.
Seth s reaction to my presence at the station seemed
extreme, especially since Dad didn t pose much of a threat
to his position as chief anymore. Was it possible he d been
reading my file, too?
 I think we should check in here, I said, tapping a
knuckle against the door.
Grant s face clouded over.  I don t think it d be in
there, right? What would Seth need with your old paper-
work?
I shrugged.  I don t know. But it s the only place we
haven t looked. I glanced back at Grant. He was fiddling
with his keys, running his finger over the teeth of a par- [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]