True Places(73)

Of course. Snapchat. Photos evaporating in a virtual cloud.

She returned to the home screen, clicked on the message icon.

Whit sat beside her. “Suzanne.”

“Wait. There’s another folder.” She pressed it open. “Oh my God, Whit. Look.”

She showed him the photo of Iris in the lilac dress, sitting on Sam’s lap. “That’s in the limo, Whit.” He winced. Suzanne swiped to the next photo. Iris and Sam again. Iris holding a cup, Sam’s hand on Iris’s breast. The expression on Iris’s face betrayed confusion and fear through an awkward smile.

“Is that Kendall’s house?” Whit said.

“I think it’s the party.” Suzanne’s throat closed. She clicked back to the home screen and opened the message folder. IRIS. KENDALL. SAM. ROBBY. She touched the first thread. “These messages. These are to Iris.”

“How? Her phone doesn’t work.”

“Not the one we gave her.” Suzanne tapped the phone symbol beside Iris’s name and put the phone to her ear. Whit stared at her, concern etched on his face. She turned away. Brynn. Iris. The limo. The party.

Three rings. Four. Five.

“Hello?”

“Iris.” Her throat clogged with tears. “Iris, it’s Suzanne.”

“I know.” Her voice was faint.

“Where are you?”

“Under a tree.”

Whit touched her arm. Suzanne nodded at him. “Iris, can I come get you?”

“No.”

“Please, Iris. We want you safe.” The skin across her palms tightened. She rubbed her free hand on her thigh and tried to think of what else to say. “We want you home.”

“It’s not my home. I don’t want to be there.”

“I know.”

Iris’s voice was stretched thin, close to breaking. “I don’t belong there.”

Suzanne winced and pressed her fist into the hot, painful ball below her rib cage. “I know you don’t. I understand.” As she said it, Suzanne realized it was truer than she’d previously known. She understood because she felt it, too. “Let me bring you back and we’ll figure it out.” She reached inside herself for the conviction she knew Iris needed. “Iris, I promise. We’ll find a way to make you happy again.”

A long pause. “Okay.”

Suzanne smiled. “Okay. Thank you.” She gave Whit a thumbs-up. “So where should I pick you up?”

“I’ll walk.”

“It’s dark.”

“I don’t care.”

“See you soon.” Suzanne closed the call and put down the phone.

Whit got up before she could say anything. “I’ll turn on the porch lights.”

Suzanne leaned back against the cushions, disgust with herself for failing Iris mixing with relief that the girl was safe. Dread pricked below her skin. She rubbed her temples and stared at the phone on the table.

Who the hell was Robby?





CHAPTER 32

Whit managed a couple of hours of sleep after Iris came home but awoke at nine, bleary and lethargic. He texted his tennis partner to cancel their scheduled match and holed up in the living room with the Sunday paper. When Brynn finally crawled downstairs around eleven, she took the route to the kitchen through the dining room, avoiding him. Fine. Whit was in no mood to lecture her on the rules she had broken and the lousy judgment she had exercised. He had left water and two Advil on her nightstand before he had gone to bed, and that was all he could offer, at least for now. Suzanne seemed to be taking the same approach. Since he hadn’t seen her downstairs all morning, Iris, he assumed, was asleep in her room. She had come home with twigs in her hair but, unlike Brynn, hadn’t shown any signs of intoxication.

Whit was drifting off on the couch when the front door opened.

“Reid?”

His son ambled in, pale and serious, his hair wet from showering. “Hey.”

“Did you come straight from Alex’s?”

“Yeah, why?”

He checked his watch. “It’s noon.”

“So?” Even for Reid, his tone was hostile.

“So were you guys out last night? Because you didn’t text us.”

His son looked straight through him and headed for the kitchen.

“Reid!” Whit tossed the paper onto the coffee table. He listened for an answer, or at least a conversation between Reid and Brynn, but all he heard were cabinets opening and closing and someone rummaging through the refrigerator. Frustration mushroomed in his chest. Since Iris had moved in, his home had become utterly chaotic, and it was unacceptable. Suzanne had given up on keeping things running smoothly, and Brynn was acting out, no doubt in response to the disruption and having to vie for her mother’s attention. This wasn’t the way to raise teenagers.

Suzanne was coming downstairs. Once they’d had a chance to talk with Brynn and set her straight, he’d take the time to sit down with Suzanne and address the real problem head-on—Iris. Headstrong girls like Brynn would always push the envelope and risk getting into trouble. That’s how they discovered their strength and gained confidence. Naturally, he didn’t want her to get hurt, and she’d been patently stupid last night, but he would not break her spirit. Brynn had always needed a lot of attention, and having to compete with Iris for it was not bringing out the best in her.