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He steps inside and takes a seat on my hickory trunk, his long legs extended, arms crossed. Although he and Theo aren’t biologically related, the two nevertheless share some traits. Both have the height and physique that makes everything they wear seem perfectly tailored. Both move with athletic grace. And both radiate that laid-back, carefree vibe that comes from being to the manor born. Or, in their case, adopted.
“I noticed you weren’t at the campfire,” Chet says. “I wondered if something was wrong. You know, after what happened at lunch.”
“Which one of them sent you? Your mother or your brother?”
“Neither, actually. I came on my own. I wanted to clear up a few things. About the camera and why my mother invited you back here. Both were my idea.”
I sit up in surprise. Yesterday, I had wondered if Chet even remembered who I was. Clearly, he did.
“I had assumed both were Franny’s idea.”
“Technically, they were. But I’m the one who instigated them.” Chet gives me a grin. It’s a great smile. Another thing he and his brother have in common. “The camera was just a precaution. Theo and my mother had nothing to do with it. I thought it would be a good idea to monitor your cabin. Not that I expect anything bad to happen. But it doesn’t hurt to be prepared in case it does.”
It’s a polite way of saying that he, too, knows about my fragile mental state after my first stay here. At this rate, it’ll be common knowledge among every camper and kitchen worker by the end of the week.
“Please don’t be offended,” Chet says. “I understand why you felt unfairly targeted, and I’m sorry. We all are. And if you want it taken down, I’ll get Ben to do it first thing tomorrow morning.”
I’m tempted to demand that it be dismantled right this instant. But, oddly, I also understand the need for caution. After what happened in the shower this morning—or, more accurately, whatmighthave happened—it’s not a bad idea to monitor the camp.
“It can stay,” I tell him. “For now. And only if you tell me why it was your idea to invite me back here.”
“Because of what you said back then,” Chet says. “About Theo.”
There’s no need for him to elaborate. I know he’s referring to how I told police Theo had something to do with the girls’ disappearance and never took it back. Both are actions I’ve come to regret. The former because of why I blamed him. The latter because it would mean admitting to all that I’m a liar.
Two truths I’m not yet ready to face.
“I can’t change what I did back then,” I say. “All I can do is tell you that I regret it and that I’m sorry.”
Chet raises a hand to stop me. “Getting an apology isn’t why I told my mother she should invite you back here. I did it because your presence says more than any apology ever could.”
So that’s why Franny was so eager to have me return to Camp Nightingale. She had pitched it as a way to show that the camp was a safe, happy place again. In truth, my being here is a silent retraction of what I said about Theo fifteen years ago.
“Because I’m here again, it means I think Theo is innocent,” I say.
“Exactly,” Chet says. “But it’s more than that. It’s an opportunity for closure.”
“That’s why I decided to come.”
“Actually, I was talking about Theo. I thought having you here would be a chance to make amends. That it would do him some good. God knows, he needs it.”
“Why?” It’s the only thing I can think to say. Theo is handsome, wealthy, and successful. What else could he possibly need?
“Theo’s not as put together as he looks,” Chet says. “He had a rough time after what happened here. Not that I can blame him. The police kept questioning him. Vivian’s father said some awful stuff about him, as did the press. And Theo couldn’t take it. Dropped out of school. Went heavy on the drugs and alcohol. Rock bottom came on the Fourth of July. A year after the disappearance. Theo went to a party in Newport, got lit, borrowed someone’s Ferrari, and smashed it into a tree a mile down the road.”
I shudder, recalling the scar on Theo’s cheek.
“It’s a miracle he survived,” Chet continues. “Theo got lucky, I guess. But the thing is, I’m pretty sure he didn’t plan to survive that crash. He’s never come out and admitted he was trying to kill himself, but that’s my theory. For months he had certainly acted like someone with a death wish. Things got better after that. My mother made sure of it. Theo spent six months in rehab, went back to Harvard, finally became a doctor, although two years later than he had planned. Because everything eventually went back to normal, noneof us talk about that time. I guess my mother and Theo think I was too young to remember. But I do. It’s hard to forget watching your only brother go through something like that.”
He stops talking, takes a deep breath, lets out a long, sad sigh.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, even though it’s meaningless. It doesn’t change what happened. It can’t erase the pale line that now runs down Theo’s cheek.
“I don’t know why you accused him,” Chet says. “I don’t need to know. What matters is that you don’t believe it now; otherwise you wouldn’t be here. I don’t want you to feel bad.”
But I feel worse than bad. Truly villainous. I can’t even will myself to look at Chet. Instead, I stare at the floor, mute and guilt-ridden.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Chet says as he stands to leave. “That’s the last thing any of us want. It’s time to let go of the past. That’s why you’re here. It’s why we’re all here. And I hope it’ll do everyone some good.”