Kayden smiled slyly, like we’d gotten away with something, and he slipped away to his room.
But I found her in the dark kitchen, pouring a glass of wine with her back to me.
Mom?
Go to bed, Sarah Lynn, she’d said, her voice flat and calm, like a door clicking shut. This is what she does when I disappoint her. She locks me out in the cold.
Now, she crosses the room and sits beside me. She takes my hand.
“I’m proud of you,” she says. “You know that, right? You’ve worked hard for this. You deserve it.”
And the tension in my chest loosens enough for me to breathe.
Once, when I was little, Mom caught me chewing on my nails. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it until she popped my hand with the back of hers, quick, like the strike of a snake. Her ring caught my lip and I tasted blood. Tears stung my eyes.
But then she pulled me close, wrapped her arms around me and held me against her perfume and her warmth. I could feel her heartbeat against my ear, and I felt safe.I just want what’s best for you, she said.
And, still, I know that it’s true.
Because Mom does want what’s best for me. She found a wayto break away from the shitty life she was supposed to have. She forged her own, exactly the way she wanted it to be. And now she wants the same for me—wants it so badly she’ll bend the world until it breaks.
“You’re going to win this,” she says now. “We’ll make sure of it. Do you understand?”
I want to tell her that Olivia is my friend, but she wouldn’t care. After all, Iggy was her friend. “Yes, ma’am,” I say instead.
Her phone rings again and she goes back to her desk, straightening the stack of extra Miss Lone Star Princess invitations as she answers.
“Yes,” she says. “Venue setup will proceed this evening as planned. Yes, of course, I heard.…”
The whitening strips burn on my teeth. I peel them off and toss them into the trash. My tongue runs across the fresh enamel, tingling. I try not to think of Isabelle Whitmore’s teeth still locked into her skull. The missing jaw beneath.
Mom has always been determined. I know what she’s capable of when she wants something badly enough.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHTMELANIE
Waylon is asleep in the back bedroom. Unfolded laundry is heaped across the kitchen table, the TV blares to an empty room, and the boys’ bickering echoes from the playroom like a pair of feral cats. The timer dings, and I rush to pull out the muffins. I made two batches, as I have a couple of stops with patients today. And I move them to a wire rack to cool before heading down the hall to check in on the girls.
I pause outside the door, the sound slipping through before I even touch the knob. A man’s voice. And for a moment, there’s something familiar about it. But maybe it’s just that he’s speaking in that Keith MorrisonDatelinevoice, the one that makes every sentence sound like a eulogy: “… the bones discovered deep in The Hollow raise more questions than they answer…”
I frown, opening the door quickly. “What on earth are you listening to?”
Hannah and Olivia, sitting on the bed, huddled over a phone, jolt up.
“One local teen described the gruesome discovery…” the voice continues.
Olivia scrambles for the pause button. “It’s just a podcast. Everyone at school’s been passing it around.”
My stomach knots. “Turn that off. Right now.”
They both blink at me, startled.
“That man doesn’t know what he’s talking about. None of themdo. It’s not entertainment, it’s people’s lives.” It comes out harsher than I mean it to, but I can’t stand the thought of some stranger making a spectacle out of what happened to Izzy. “He’s making it out like Izzy’s bones are props from a horror movie. She was someone’s daughter.”
The girls look down, chastened.
I draw a breath, lower my voice. “Actually, why don’t you girls come with me? I’m bringing muffins to Mrs. Whitmore. She’s back home now, and it’ll mean something to her to see you girls there.”
Hannah hops right to it. She’s been sweet to me this morning, trying to make up for sneaking out last night and scaring the life out of me.