Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(15)

“I have to go. In fact, I need to go. Gramma was my rock. I need to say goodbye.” Sawyer ran a hand through her hair. “What are you two so afraid of anyway? We’re not little kids any longer. Both of you should come with me so we can sit Mom and Dad down and have a real conversation about everything that happened when we were growing up.” Sawyer didn’t mention that she’d be staying to interview people about the Peggy Myers and Avery James murders. She’d save that for another time when she wasn’t exhausted.

“Did you know that Uncle Theo was released from prison?” Aria asked.

Sawyer fixed her gaze on Aria. Uncle Theo had gotten fifteen years for aggravated assault after raping and robbing a coworker at the cable company where he worked. Her stomach heaved. “How do you know?”

“I keep track of these things.”

“After all Dennis and Joyce put you through, why would you bother trying to talk to them?” Harper asked. “You still don’t get it, do you? They don’t care about any of us. They never did.”

“Please don’t go,” Aria pleaded, her voice soft.

Poor, sweet Aria needed to grow a pair.

Sawyer looked at Harper. “Mom and Dad kept a roof over my head and food in the cabinet. At least they never ran off in the middle of the night, leaving me to fend for myself, never to be seen again.”

Harper stabbed a finger her way. “That is exactly what Joyce and Dennis did. They were your parents, our parents, and yet they abandoned us all.”

“Nothing good ever happens in River Rock,” Aria reminded Sawyer.

Sawyer was at the door, her hand grasped onto the knob. Her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen—a missed call and three texts from Connor. She shut her phone off and shoved it back into her pocket.

As soon as she stepped outside, she inhaled.

Once she returned from River Rock, she would need to find an apartment, anyplace but here. She loved her sisters, but sometimes, like now, they made it difficult for her to breathe.





CHAPTER SEVEN

Six o’clock the next morning, Sawyer woke up. At the end of the couch where her toes peeked out, the cat had made himself comfortable. Last night, she’d dreamed the cat had ruined Harper’s couch, and in retaliation Harper had made a coonskin cap out of him. When the cat lifted his head and saw her looking at him, she said, “Hi, Raccoon.”

Raccoon darted away.

She got up and trudged to the bathroom down the hallway, brushed her teeth, changed out of the gray sweatpants and back into jeans and a T-shirt, then slipped on a pair of sneakers. In the living room, she quietly tore blankets and sheets from the couch, folded them neatly, and put the cushions back the way she’d found them. Hands on hips, she glanced around to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind. She heard soft footfalls closing in on her.

“Leaving already?” Harper asked. “I was hoping you would stay for breakfast. You know, say goodbye to Nate and the kids.”

“I want to get on the road early, before there’s too much traffic. Besides, Mom and Dad might need help with last-minute funeral arrangements.”

Harper made her way into the kitchen and returned with a brown paper bag like the ones she’d made for the kids.

“You made me a lunch?”

“A few snacks and a water bottle to tide you over.” Harper gestured toward the kitchen. “I’m going to make a fresh pot of coffee. If you wait a few minutes, I can send you off with a coffee to go.”

“Sure,” Sawyer said, unable to turn her down. She followed her sister into the kitchen and took a seat on one of three stools framing one side of the granite island. As Harper readied the coffeepot and started the brewing process, she rambled on about the excessive heat Sacramento had been experiencing and the list of chores she needed to get done.

“Gramma died,” Sawyer cut in before her sister could read off another to-do list.

Harper turned her way, clearly perplexed.

“We,” Sawyer said, “all three of us, used to spend whole weekends at Gramma’s when we were small.” Recalling those times made Sawyer feel a lightness in her chest. “We painted rocks, played tag, and made bouquets of wildflowers. Do you remember?”

Harper tightened the sash on her robe. “I remember.”

“Gramma Sally used to talk about you a lot,” Sawyer said.

Harper snorted. “All good things, I’m sure.”

“Yes. All good. She always thought you were the most like her.”

Harper wasn’t having it, and she set about finding a to-go coffee cup for Sawyer. Sawyer noticed the deep frown lines and jerky movements and wondered if the two of them would ever find a way to connect.

Lennon appeared before any more could be said. “Hey, Aunt Sawyer.”

Sawyer inwardly scolded herself for bringing up the past. She could tell by the paleness of Harper’s face, and by the way her hands trembled, that she’d upset her. Her sister was fragile.

“Hey, Lennon,” Sawyer said, giving him her full attention.

Lennon leaned over to give her a hug and then quickly backed off, trying to be funny.

It wasn’t.

“Are you guys fighting again?” Lennon asked.

“What do you mean, again?” Harper asked him. “This is the first time I’ve seen Sawyer in months.”