Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(39)

“You were never here. How would you know what we were doing?”

“I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“What don’t you like exactly? That I’m being straightforward, or that I’m speaking the truth when I remind you that you and Dad weren’t always there when we needed you? That you left a sexual predator to look after us.”

The upper half of her mom’s body sagged. “It’s been years since you left, and yet that’s all you focus on.”

“If I’m hurting inside, shouldn’t you—my mother—be hurting too? I’ve had a chance to watch Harper with Lennon and Ella, your grandchildren. She’s an amazing mom, always there for them.”

“I suppose she spoils them,” Mom said with a shake of the head. “Parents give their children everything these days. Harper’s children will never understand that life can be difficult and that you don’t always get what you want.”

Wow. Better to be neglected and abused than lathered with love. Sawyer wondered why she bothered. Her mother had never listened to her. Mom wore blinders. She’d always been married to her views. She was always right, unable or unwilling to bend. “Why didn’t you believe me when I told you what Uncle Theo had done?”

“I never said I didn’t believe you.”

The truth had never felt so heavy, like a brick settling inside Sawyer’s stomach, weighing her down. “So why would you allow him into this house?”

“He’s your father’s brother. He’s family. He’s done his time.”

Chills ran through Sawyer’s body. Harper had been right—Mom had known.

More than anything, Sawyer felt the urge to pack up and leave River Rock for good. Never look back. But she had a job to do, and her mom wasn’t the only stubborn one standing in the room. Sawyer wasn’t going to leave River Rock and mess with her career because of a woman who never gave two shits. She used her shoulder to give the door a push to get it to open. She scooped up the cleaning supplies, turned toward her mom, and said, “You never once told me you loved me.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s the truth.” Sawyer stepped outside, didn’t bother shutting the door before walking toward the cottage.

Sawyer dropped everything once she got to the cottage door. Her hands shook as she slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. Breathe.

She used to constantly make up stories in her head, telling herself her mom was human, and like most parents, she’d simply made mistakes. But that wasn’t true. Mom had known what Uncle Theo had done, and she’d done nothing about it. She’d never reached out to offer emotional support, never held Sawyer in her arms or offered a kind or sympathetic word. Their relationship had always been fraught with tension.

Suddenly she understood why Harper had cut Mom out of her life. It had been the only way to preserve her sanity and save herself.

Sawyer’s anger at Harper for leaving her behind had blinded her to her parents’ faults. Determined to punish Harper, she’d thrown her parents in Harper’s face, making them out to be good, decent people, which was far from the truth.

Standing beneath the doorframe, Sawyer’s shoulders fell as she looked inside the cottage. The place was a wreck. She was a wreck.

The windows were dirty, and there were cobwebs in every corner of the room. The wastebasket was filled to the brim with used tissues and trash. Had Gramma been living in this filth?

There were no blankets on the bed. Just as Dad had said, the mattress was stained. Sawyer was no Harper when it came to cleanliness, but this was simply more abuse at the hands of her parents.

The floors creaked beneath the weight of her feet when she stepped inside. Holding her breath, she crossed the room and opened the window to get some air flowing through. A spider dropped onto the windowsill. She gasped. Its body was thick and round, and it crawled down the wall and skittered under the bed before she could try to capture it and put it outside.

Hands on hips, she looked around the room. Where to start? She didn’t have a lot of time. She needed to get the place cleaned up and take a ride to town. She had a lot to get done in a minimal amount of time. Her phone buzzed. It was Aria. Damn. She’d forgotten to tell her she wasn’t coming home. She picked up the call, said hello.

“Where are you?” Aria asked.

“I’m inside Gramma’s cottage.” She glanced at the bed and imagined Gramma Sally propped against pillows, warm beneath her quilt, telling one story or another in hopes of making Sawyer smile. She wondered where all Gramma’s knickknacks and books had been taken.

“You’re still in River Rock?” Aria asked.

“I meant to call earlier. I didn’t want to say anything the other night, but I’m going to do a write-up about River Rock and the unsolved murders.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because somebody needs to dig a little deeper. Somebody needs to remember those girls.”

“Well, that shouldn’t take long, right?”

Silence.

“What’s going on?” Aria asked.

There was no way to soften the truth, so she blurted it all out, quick and to the point. “There’s been another murder—a young girl—and my boss wants me to stay to cover the story.”