Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(68)

Struggling to find her voice, Harper said, “I’m sorry.”

Aria huffed and disappeared back inside her place. She left the door open. Harper peeked inside, saw her sister toss something into a suitcase lying on the couch.

“Going somewhere?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

Harper waited, and when Aria didn’t expand on what she was up to, Harper asked, “Where are you going?”

“Why should I tell you? You and Sawyer can’t even answer your phones. I don’t know why I bother caring about either of you. It’s stupid. I’m going to get an ulcer from worrying before I hit thirty-five.”

Harper’s stomach turned. “Sawyer’s not answering her phone?”

“Ahh,” Aria said with a wag of her finger. “It’s not fun worrying about someone you care about, is it?”

Harper exhaled. “I said I was sorry, and I meant it.”

Aria looked at Harper. Her shoulders dropped. “I’m glad you’re okay. But Sawyer promised me she would check in every day. I haven’t talked to her since Sunday morning before I saw you at the deli. It’s been forty-eight hours, and when I call, I’m taken directly to her voice mail. I’m going to River Rock.”

“Did you call Joyce or Dennis?”

“Yes. I called the house phone too. No answer.” Aria shoved a few more items into her suitcase before she zipped it up and rolled it closer to the door. She shouldered her purse and said, “The cat is hiding under my bed. He’ll be fine until I get back. I left plenty of food and water for the bird and the cat. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yeah, I will. I’m the dependable sister.”

Harper thought about Sawyer. Her little sister was in trouble. She’d warned Sawyer not to return to River Rock, but she’d been too stubborn to listen.

The thought of seeing Joyce and Dennis sent chills up Harper’s spine. But in her mind, she had no choice but to go with Aria. And this time, she wouldn’t leave without Sawyer.

“I’m going with you,” Harper said. “Give me five minutes to change my clothes and brush my teeth.”

“You might as well take a shower too. You smell. But I’m not waiting long. I’m done waiting.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Sawyer woke to the sound of wood scraping against wood above her head. Mom or Dad was at it again. Moving furniture while their youngest daughter was held captive in the crawl space below the floors?

It had taken her a while, possibly hours, to make her way to the vents, only to find that they had been sealed off with cement. She’d had to crawl with her belly pressed into dirt. It was a tight squeeze and had required a lot of digging and moving moldy clods of dirt to get there. Once she was back where she started, she’d pounded on the door and screamed at the top of her lungs, begging for Mom to let her out.

It was no use.

At some point she’d fallen asleep from exhaustion. Her throat was still raw from yelling.

Sawyer still had enough wits about her to know she’d been inside the crawl space for at least twenty-four hours. She reached out and touched the door. Her knuckles were red and sore from knocking on the door and walls. She needed to find a loose board or a piece of pipe, anything hard enough to bang against the ceiling of the crawl space. Maybe then her dad would hear the noise and come to the basement to investigate. She was hungry and thirsty.

Instead of following the straight line she’d made getting to the vent, she veered to her right, trying not to think about the critters who’d made this their home as she dug her fingers into the clumps of dirt and cement.

As she moved along, inch by inch, making sure to stay close to the outside wall, she wondered if Mom would give in and let her out. Even as the thought came to mind, she knew it was wishful thinking on her part. Mom had protected Dad all these years. There was no way she would free Sawyer and give her a chance to go to the police.

The tips of Sawyer’s fingers brushed against something hard. She began digging around the object before she found another one. It felt like two long, thin wooden or plastic poles.

Blindly, she continued to feel around, moving clumps of dirt until her fingers touched something round.

She was on her stomach, hardly enough room to lift her chin more than a few inches off the ground, but she took her time, digging with her fingers until the object came loose. There were two holes. It took another second or two for her to realize it was a skull.

She dropped it and pushed her hands against the ground, trying to get away. Her head hit a wood beam. Shit! Get ahold of yourself!

She held still for a moment, breathing, trying to collect herself. Her mom’s words came to mind: I killed for you.

What was going on?

Had Mom killed Peggy Myers and Avery James? If so, their bodies had been found. But then who did these bones—

Sawyer’s stomach turned. Rebecca—her best friend. The bones were small. Sawyer had graduated with degrees in criminal justice and biology. She knew enough about the human skeleton to know that these belonged to someone close to the size Rebecca was when she’d disappeared.

All this time, she’d been buried under the house?

Her skin tingled. Sawyer had never come here after her friend disappeared. Why would she? Her head fell forward in defeat. Images of Rebecca trapped down here. Had Rebecca been alive when she was locked inside?