The Truth Lies Here by Lindsey Klingele

Author:Lindsey Klingele
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-07-23T16:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

OVER THE NEXT few hours, the agents ended up removing every book, file, and scrap of paper from my dad’s office, packing them up into plastic tubs and loading them up in their sleek black car. They took some papers from his bedroom, too, and all of the spare notes that had collected over the years in the junk drawer of the kitchen. They snapped photos of every inch of the house, opening every drawer and cupboard. They even searched my room, not that there was anything to find except for bags of old homework and bottles of dried-up nail polish.

The agents had only taken seven boxes total, but now that they were gone the house felt emptier. Like it was missing something vital.

I was still sitting on the couch, wondering what to do next. My laptop was open and stretched across my thighs, but I was struggling to concentrate. My eyes skipped over my folder full of notes for my Northwestern article. Instead, I clicked to open a new folder and paused before naming it, finally settling on one simple word—DAD.

I spent the next few hours typing up everything I knew about Dad and the bodies in the woods. It was early evening when my phone rang, Micah’s name flashing across the screen. I paused briefly before picking up, unsure what to expect.

“Hey, Micah.”

“Penny, some FBI agents just left my house,” Micah said, with no preamble. He sounded agitated, even a little panicked, which was at least better than the zombielike trance he’d been in the night before.

“Yeah, they came here, too,” I said. “What did they want from you?”

“They asked me some questions about last night, but . . . mostly they wanted to know about you. And your dad.”

My heart stuttered.

“I told them I didn’t know anything about your dad, but they kept asking questions. They really freaked out my mom. I haven’t seen her this bad in a while.”

“Are you okay? I can come over.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I had time to think about them.

There was a pause on the phone, and I wondered if I was overstepping. Micah had just lost two friends, and now federal agents had upset his mom—because of Micah’s tenuous connection to me—and, therefore, my dad. What if I was the last person he wanted to see?

But to my surprise, Micah breathed out a relieved-sounding sigh. “Yeah,” he said. “That would be great.”

It took roughly twenty-five minutes to pedal over to Micah’s house. He lived off a country road, about a mile from Millers’ barn. The small ranch house looked like it was fighting a battle with the Michigan elements and slowly losing. The front yard was meticulously mowed, but the porch steps were broken in a few places. The windows were spotless, but the roof was sagging after one too many winters with heavy snow. It was getting dark as I walked toward the front door, and only one room in the house appeared to be lit.

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