“But why the Most Wanted list?” she asked again.

“I don’t know, exactly, but I think it has something to do with old grudges against Gabe and me.”

“I know why Everett didn’t like Gabe in high school-”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Gabe stole a lid of marijuana from him.”

Kit shook his head. “Gabe paid him back for that.”

“Because you insisted on it. I know the story. I know that’s how you met Gabe-you kept Everett from beating the hell out of my brother on your first day of school.”

“That was part of it. But Gabe’s biggest offense, as far as Everett is concerned, is that your brother talked you out of dating him.”

She was silent for a time. When he looked over at her, she said, “That’s not true. Among other reasons, I didn’t go out with Everett because I didn’t want to go out with him. I never liked him.”

“I don’t think his incredible ego can accept that explanation.”

“Is that why he bears a grudge against you?”

“Me? Because of you?”

He looked surprised, and she found herself irritated that he did. “Yes, you.”

“No. He hates me because, as you’ve said, from my first day at Sedgewick, I started breaking his stranglehold on the school. Gabe was my biggest ally. Before that, Everett’s word was law.”

“But you wouldn’t accept that.”

“No. Everett didn’t present much of a challenge to me-I thought I’d seen his type before, and I-I had been in worse situations.” He gripped the little tortoise for a moment, then went on. “When I came to Sedgewick, it was at a time in my life when I was unable to tolerate bullies. I thought that was all he was.”

“Well,” she said, “I thought he was a bully, too.”

“He is one, but that’s not all there is to it. He’s…he’s missing something-whatever it is that makes a person think about anything or anyone but himself. He only studies other people so that he can manipulate them.”

“To be honest, Cameron always scared me more.”

“Maybe he should have. He’s disturbed in an entirely different way. But for a long time now, he’s been under Everett’s control. They’re both ruthless.”

“You’re twenty-six, right?”

“Yes. You’re thinking that it’s a long time for someone to bear a grudge, that it was just high school.”

“Well, yes-”

“But you went to Malibu High.” She saw him look toward the cliff that dropped down into the canyon to the east of the house. “At Sedgewick…at Sedgewick, it was different. The students were all male, and almost all of them were kids who couldn’t fit in anywhere else, usually because they couldn’t control their tempers.” He paused. “How can I explain it? If you’re disappointed about something, you feel bad, but ultimately, you accept it. At Sedgewick, most kids didn’t react to setbacks that way. Something upset them, they couldn’t let it go.”

“Are you bearing any grudges from high school?”

“No, I have my own kind of problems. I’m not better off-I just don’t think in the way Everett does.” He turned back to her. “Has he been in touch with you lately?”

She blushed. “Not all that recently.”

“He’s called you, or come by?”

“He called not long after my parents died. I don’t know how he got my number.”

“He has more than enough money to buy what he wants to know. What was the excuse for calling?”

“Condolences. Started to say something about small planes, thought better of it, said my dad was a great pilot. Wanted to know how to reach Gabe.”

“You’re still blushing, so I assume he also said that he always thought the two of you should get together, or something like that.”

“Something like that.” “Meghan,” Everett had coaxed. “Think of it. Our children would have beauty, brains, and wealth. What more could you want for them?”

Kit was watching her closely again. “Did he insult you?”

“No. Listen, Kit, I can understand-barely-that he might have some ridiculous notion in his head that I should have gone out with him in high school. But after all these years? I can’t believe he’s been carrying a torch for me-”

“It’s not impossible,” he said quietly, staring out at the water. “Not by any means.”

“Kit…” she said, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“It’s not impossible,” he said again, a little more firmly, “but in his case, I think it has more to do with anger over a rebuff than a broken heart.”

“Let’s say you’re right. Is he still angry that you wouldn’t kiss his ass in high school?”

“I guess so. He sent Cameron to Colorado to kill my dog.”

“What? Cameron killed Molly?”

“I saw him get in his car and drive away from my place in the mountains. I almost think he waited for me to notice him.”

“My God,” she said, shaken.

“There are other ways they’ve issued challenges to me. The way the victims of their crimes have been found.”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced back at the photo album, then looked at her. “Meghan,” he said, and swallowed hard. “Meghan, from the day I first met you, I’ve hoped…and hoped…and prayed to God that I’d never have to tell you…”

He stared out toward the sea again, clenching his fist around the stone tortoise.

“And all that same while,” she said, “I’ve waited for you to trust me, even a little.”

He turned to her in surprise.

“And if,” she said, “it’s still too soon, then take the photo album. I can keep waiting.”

He pushed away from the rail and shoved his hands into his pockets. “No-no, go ahead. Look at it.” He started to pace.

Seven steps in each direction. She noticed this, and despite the tension between them, she had to hide a smile.

“It isn’t a matter of not trusting you,” he said. “I do trust you.”

“To care about you no matter what?”

He stopped. “I know you would want to. You would try. But it would change everything.”

“Everything changes anyway, Kit.”

He sat down, holding his head in his hands. She took the seat next to him.

After what seemed to her a long while, he picked up the album and turned to a page near the end. He handed the album to her.

33

Malibu, California

Wednesday, May 21, 4:50 P.M.

The page had two photos on it. Meghan’s eyes were drawn first to the one of Kit, smiling softly, looking up from a book. Meghan thought he must have been about ten. He was seated in front of a fireplace-the one in this house.

“My grandmother took that one. I had been living with her for a little while. She gave these photos to Moriarty when she hired him to search for us. The woman in the other photo is my mother.”

Meghan was speechless. It did not seem possible that Serenity Logan, the beautiful girl in the photos at the front of the book, the lively teenager with a spark of mischief in her eye, could have become the dissipated, rail-thin hag in this one. Her dark hair was uncombed and unwashed. Her formerly creamy complexion was mottled, her perfect nose appeared to have been broken and healed crooked. The once alluring eyes had a bloodshot, glassy look. The skin beneath them was darkly shadowed. One side of her mouth was puffy, as if she had been given a fat lip. She didn’t look as if she had smiled much for a long time. She was flipping the photographer the bird.

“That’s the last photo I have of her,” he said dispassionately. “She would sometimes clean up for a month or two, and she’d look better than that. She looked worse before she died.”

“How old is she here?”

“About twenty-nine, I think.”

“Twenty-nine!”

He shrugged. “My grandmother told me she took that picture when my mother came to take me to live with her and Jerome.”

“Jerome?”

“The man she married.” He hurried on. “She had just turned eighteen when she got pregnant with me. I was her second pregnancy, as far as I know. She got rid of the first one. She was sixteen that time. She thought about getting rid of me, but she decided it might be nice to have a kid to keep her company.” He paused. “That’s what she told me, anyway.”