Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(47)

“Oh, God,” Sawyer said. She thought of Caden telling her that his sister thought boys were silly. Her insides flip-flopped. “Please don’t tell me he’s married with kids.”

“Afraid so, on both accounts.”

“How do you know this?”

“I’ve always been observant. Watching them make out in the back room of the bookstore was my first clue.”

Sawyer squeezed her fingers tight around the steering wheel. “I hate this town. I bet you there’s not one person living in River Rock who hasn’t screwed someone over, literally or figuratively.”

“I’m guessing the odds would be in your favor.” Melanie lifted a perfectly shaped brow. “If you want, I can show you where he lives.”

Sawyer perked up. “Yes, please. Get in.”



Jonathan Lane was the math teacher’s name. Like everyone in River Rock, he lived only a few miles from town. Not only did he have the allotted wife and two kids, he lived in one of the newer cookie-cutter homes—a two-story house with blue trim and a white picket fence. Jonathan Lane was over six feet tall and lean. Sawyer knew this because he was mowing the small patch of lawn in front when she parked at the curb and got out of the car.

Melanie asked her a question, but she hadn’t heard what she’d said. Sawyer was on autopilot. All she could think about was the forty-year-old man taking advantage of a sixteen-year-old while his wife looked after his two young children. Thank God Nate was a good husband to Harper. From what Aria had told her, Nate had been the guy driving the truck the night Harper and Aria escaped River Rock. Sawyer should probably be just as angry with Nate as she was with Harper for leaving her there. But she hadn’t known him, and a lot of the details of that night were still sketchy. Maybe Nate hadn’t known at the time that Sawyer existed.

She walked up to Jonathan, as close as she could get without putting herself in danger of being run over by his push mower. The moment he saw her, he released his hold on the bar. The engine belched and died. “Hey there,” he said in a friendly-dad-type voice.

“Jonathan Lane?” she asked.

“That’s me.”

He had little round eyes and a pointy noise. Everything about him said “creep.” “I understand you were Isabella’s math teacher. Is that right?”

He pulled a small towel from his pocket and wiped his brow. “That’s correct.” He looked over his shoulder toward the house. She didn’t have to wonder what he was worried about. It was more than likely he was checking to see if his wife knew they had a visitor.

Sawyer heard a car door open and close. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Melanie walk to the front of the car and lean against the hood, her arms crossed.

“I’m doing a story about Isabella,” Sawyer told him. “I want my readers to get a clear picture of who she was and where she grew up.”

“I see.”

He didn’t see a thing. His eyes were on Melanie. “I also grew up in River Rock.”

He didn’t look the least bit interested, but he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and said, “Listen. Isabella was a bright girl. Good grades. Good student. I was devastated when I heard what happened.” He jumped when the front door clicked open behind him. “I’ve got work to do around the house and papers to grade,” he said, his voice suddenly leaning toward authoritarian. “You’ll have to talk to her friends if you want to know more about her.”

“If you want to talk in private,” Sawyer whispered, “I’d be happy to meet you at the school in, say . . . thirty minutes.”

His face reddened. “I want you off my property.”

“What’s going on?” a woman asked as she approached. She wore jeans and a T-shirt. A thick headband pulled her brown, wavy hair away from her face. A small child, maybe five, peeked her head out the door.

“My name is Sawyer Brooks. Are you Mrs. Lane?”

“I am.” She smiled. “Camilla,” she offered.

Jonathan feigned a smile as he attempted to gain control of the situation. “Ms. Brooks is doing a story about Isabella,” Jonathan explained to his wife.

“I see.”

“Ms. Brooks was just leaving, since I told her it would make more sense if she talked to Isabella’s friends instead of her math teacher.”

“She was a sweet girl,” Camilla said. “Very pretty. My husband did tutor Isabella on the weekends every once in a while. Isn’t that right, honey?”

Jonathan didn’t move a muscle.

“Were you home when that occurred?” Sawyer asked Camilla.

“No,” she said. “They needed quiet, so the weekend tutoring only happened when I took the kids to visit with my parents.”

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Jonathan said.

Sawyer felt a sudden pounding in her ears. Jonathan Lane had had his chance to talk and come clean. He should have taken her offer to talk in private, but he hadn’t. The man had taken advantage of a young girl, and yet he thought he could just send Sawyer on her way and nobody ever needed to know what he’d done. The arrogant look on his face reminded her of every man who had ever used and abused her. “Tell your wife the truth right now, or I’m going to do it for you.”

“I want you to leave,” he said.