Free All the Missing Girls by Megan Miranda Page B

again.
    Annaleise had been our alibi.

The Day Before

DAY 13
    E verett’s here,” I said. I stood facing the corner of the bathroom, mumbling into the phone, with the shower running in the background.
    â€œEverett’s where?” Daniel responded.
    Steam filled the room, the mirror coated with a fine layer of fog. “ Here. ” I looked over my shoulder. “In my bedroom. I called him about Dad, and he showed up yesterday to help. He is helping.”
    I could hear Laura in the background—something about paint fumes and pregnancy and open the damn window, which made me love her a little in that moment.
    â€œOkay, good. That’s good.” A pause, and I imagined him walking away from Laura. “What did you tell him?”
    I cracked the door, and the steam escaped into my bedroom, wisps curling up toward the vents. Everett was still sprawled facedown on the bed; I had my money on a hangover. I eased the doorshut, walked across the tiny bathroom, out through the other door to Daniel’s old room.
    â€œI told him the truth, Daniel. That the police were trying to question Dad in the disappearance of a girl ten years ago, regardless of his mental state. He marched down to the police station and Grand Pines, threatening legal action if it happened again.”
    â€œIt’s done? Is that it?”
    â€œHe needs to follow up on Monday. Get some paperwork from the doctor or something. But they’ll back off until then.”
    â€œSo he’s staying through Monday?”
    â€œLooks that way.”
    I heard Laura again: Who’s staying through Monday? And then everything sounded muffled, like Daniel was covering the phone with his hand. He cleared his throat. “Laura wants you to bring him by for dinner tonight.”
    â€œTell her thanks, but—”
    â€œGreat. Six o’clock, Nic.”
----
    I DIDN’T WAKE EVERETT until nearly noon, and only then because his work was stacked in the middle of the dining room table and I knew he had to make up for the time lost yesterday. I nudged him on the shoulder and held the over-the-counter painkillers in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He moaned as he rolled over, his gaze roaming around my room as he tried to orient himself.
    â€œHey there,” I said, crouching beside the bed, trying to hide my smile. I liked Everett in the morning most of all, when he was lazy and malleable, when his thoughts lagged a few seconds behind; he always looked surprised while his mind caught up to what was happening. Before the caffeine hit his bloodstream and he sharpened into focus.
    I liked him even better on the rare mornings he’d wake inmy apartment and sit up and fumble for the alarm on his phone, misjudging the distance to my nightstand, confused by the studio apartment and the painted furniture.
    â€œHey,” he said, then winced. He propped himself up on his elbows and downed the painkillers before flopping back onto the mattress.
    â€œWant to sleep it off some more?”
    He peered at the clock, threw an arm over his eyes. “Ugh, no.”
    He’d been out for nearly twelve hours. Meanwhile, I’d been busy moving all the boxes from the dining room to the newly finished garage. Stacked them against the walls, organized them into piles: For Dad; For Daniel; For me.
    Everything else must go. And everything else was heaped in the middle of the floor in garbage bags: cookbooks and glass figurines, magazines from a year ago and floral curtains that had seen better days, old credit card notices and pens that had run out of ink.
    â€œCoffee’s downstairs,” I said. “When you’re ready.”
----
    I POURED MYSELF A mug and stood in front of the kitchen window with the view over the back porch, straight to the woods. Everett brushed my arm, and I jumped. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he said, reaching around me for the coffeepot. I brought the cup to my