The Last House Guest(34)

Right now the surface of her desk was completely bare. Nothing here appeared out of place.

The last room I thought to check was Grant’s office—now Parker’s. It was the only upstairs room that faced the front of the house, other than the laundry room and a bathroom. There were blinds covering the window here, to fight the glare off the computer screen, which was now on the surface of the desk, red light glowing.

I could see Parker subtly taking over, everything just a little different than I’d remembered. A junior asshole, Sadie had called him. The desk was the same, situated on top of a red ornamental rug, but the surface layout was different. A yellow notepad to the side of the laptop, a single pen, a sloppily written list, half the items crossed out. Grant used to keep everything inside the drawers when he was out, a meticulous dedication to clearing the desk, both figuratively and literally, every time he left.

Parker’s leather satchel was tucked under the desk. I peered inside but saw only a few paper files he must’ve been working on. The laptop screen was black, but it was clear that Parker had left in a rush, maybe losing track of time. I carefully slid open the side drawers, but they were mostly empty, except for the items that must’ve been left from last summer: a stack of fresh notepads and a container of pens.

The bottom-right drawer was locked, but it seemed to be the type that held files—not a place I’d expect a box of Sadie’s things to be hidden. Still, I opened the top drawer to check for a key and found one tucked away in a pile of flash drives, all bearing the logo for Loman Properties, which they used to hand out as giveaways in lieu of key chains. Something more likely to be used and appreciated.

But this key was too large for a desk lock. Too small for a house key.

I sat in his chair, surveying the room. The closet was situated beside the window, tucked into the corner. I’d never looked closely before, never had cause to spend time in this room—but that doorknob was the only one in the house that didn’t have the same smooth antique look. There was a keyhole in the metal doorplate, just below the knob. The only place in this house afforded privacy, it seemed.

The key fit perfectly, the latch disengaging.

Opening the door now, I expected to see the box of Sadie’s things. Secrets worth keeping. Details worth hiding. But the shelves were stacked with bound-up file folders, each labeled in blocky print—a file for each of the rental properties, contracts and blueprints inside; another marked Charity Receipts, where the letters downstairs would inevitably be filed; another marked Medical. Nothing belonging to Sadie. Just the normal documents for safekeeping, kept out of sight. Nothing secret about them.

Chances were, the box of Sadie’s things was still in the trunk of Parker’s car. I’d surprised him there, and he’d left it all out of sight, safely locked behind the garage door.

I’d just stacked the files back together when I heard the sound of tires on gravel. I spun abruptly and caught the glare of sun off metal through the slats of blinds. I stepped closer. There was a dark car driving down the lane toward the garage, with a second car right behind, but it stopped before reaching the garage. Someone stepped out of the driver’s side. Brown hair falling past her shoulders, beige lightweight sweater. Red glasses. Erica.

Dammit. She raised her hand to her eyes, turning toward the house, and I jumped aside, hoping she didn’t see my shadow up here. She was supposed to text me first, so I’d have fair warning.

I locked the closet door and dropped the key into the top desk drawer, moving the flash drives around, hoping it looked natural. A quick scan of the room, making sure I’d left everything as I’d found it. Straightening the chair, making sure his bag under the desk was closed. Then I raced downstairs, holding my breath, listening for them. Parker’s voice carried from somewhere out front, one half of a conversation I couldn’t decipher.

If I sneaked out the patio door at the back of the house, I risked being caught trying to let myself out the black iron gate. I opted for the side door, located just off the kitchen, through the mudroom.

I eased the door shut as I stepped outside, then slid the key silently into the lock, making sure to secure the house once more. I heard the rise and fall of Erica’s voice, Parker’s laugh in response. But I was hidden by the garbage can and the lattice fencing. I waited until I heard laughter again, and then I darted the distance to the garage, keeping in the trees, hoping no one noticed.

Ten seconds to slow my breathing, and I stepped out from the other side of the garage, waving my hand over my head. “Hey there. Erica? Thought I heard you guys.”

They both turned to look at me, their faces giving nothing away. Erica smiled first. “Sorry, I was just about to text you.”

“No worries,” I said. “Are you ready? Come on in.”



* * *




ERICA STOOD IN THE middle of the living room, making no effort to hide the fact that she was appraising the place.

My heart was still racing, and I opened the fridge to cool my face. “Can I get you something to drink?” I asked.

“No, thanks.” She made a show of checking her watch as I pulled out a drink. “I’ve got to get back to the office soon.”

I took the picture of Sadie from my desk, handing it to her without looking. “Will that work?”

Erica stared at the photo in her hand, eyes unmoving, so close I could see the colors of the picture reflected in her glasses. I hoped it was gutting. “Yes. It’s good.” She slid it into her bag, then leaned over my desk, peering out the window. “It is pretty up here, I’ll give you that,” she said. Like she was picking up from a conversation I’d missed.