Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(69)

When were the vents sealed? Mom or Dad could have done that while she was at school. She’d been so distraught after her friend disappeared, she’d never noticed. Even if she had, she probably wouldn’t have thought much about it.

It sickened her to think she might have been able to help. If only I had thought to look. I might have been able to save you.

A doorbell sounded.

Sawyer didn’t make a sound. She hardly breathed.

The sounds of her mom’s footfalls as she walked to the front entry were directly above her head, which meant Sawyer had to be close enough to the front door that somebody might hear her if she could make enough noise.

Think, Sawyer. Think.

The door opened.

She heard voices.

She knew that voice. It used to be much deeper. It was Melanie.

“Melanie,” she cried out in a pathetic squeak of a voice. This might be her only chance to let someone know she was here. She reached for Rebecca, grabbed the thickest bone, the femur, and used it to bang against the ceiling.

The chattering above stopped.

“Sawyer, is that you?”

Melanie was calling her name! She knew something wasn’t right, and she’d come looking for her.

Sawyer banged against the ceiling again. Three times.

“Where are you?” Melanie shouted.

“Basement,” Sawyer yelled as loud as possible, but her cry for help was drowned out by a crash and then a heavy thump as something collided with the ground.

Sawyer knocked on the ceiling.

Nothing.

No. No. No.

Next, she heard a swishing sound and the occasional creak of the floor as something was being dragged away.

Melanie.

Had Mom killed her?

There was a thickness in her throat as guilt and regret for befriending Melanie and getting her into this mess seeped into her bones. If Melanie were okay, she would be calling her name, but all was quiet.

The bone was still clutched within her grasp as she let her head fall to the ground. Without food or water, she had no idea how much longer she would last.





CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Harper opened her eyes and straightened in the passenger seat. Her neck ached from the position she’d slept in for the past few hours. It was dark outside. She shivered as they drove past the WELCOME TO RIVER ROCK sign, well lit by a streetlight. “What if Joyce and Dennis aren’t home?” Harper asked.

Aria didn’t answer her. She had insisted on driving. For the first two hours of their ride, she had grilled Harper about her make-believe book. Harper’s lie was so far-fetched she’d given up answering Aria’s questions and simply fallen asleep, leaving Aria alone to stew in her frustrations.

Harper looked at her sister. “Don’t be mad at me.”

“You promised we would never lie to one another. What’s going to happen if I tell Nate that you were always out while he was away and that you didn’t come home last night?”

“Please don’t.”

Silence.

“Can we focus on Sawyer for now?” Harper asked.

“Sure,” Aria said. “And to answer your question, if Mom and Dad aren’t home, I’m going to break into the house and have a look around.”

“How do you intend to do that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure that out when I get there.”

“Did you try ringing Sawyer’s cell again?”

“Yep. Dozens of times. This isn’t good. She never should have gone to Gramma’s funeral.”

“It’s my fault,” Harper said.

“Everything that happens to us isn’t your fault just because you’re the oldest.”

Harper had never wanted her sisters to know the truth, but she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. “There are things you and Sawyer don’t know about me. In fact, I’ve made an appointment with a therapist.”

“Jesus. It’s about time. Sawyer and I have always known that you didn’t escape River Rock unscathed. We figured Uncle Theo must have gotten to you too. You can’t hold that shit in, Harper. It eats away at you and makes you crazy.”

“It wasn’t Uncle Theo,” Harper said.

“Who, then?”

There was a long pause before she finally said it. “Dennis.” Naming her father as her sexual abuser, saying it out loud, didn’t change anything. Her body wanted to shut down. But she was stronger than that. She’d let that man take control of her body for too long. She wouldn’t collapse now. Not ever. She wouldn’t give him the power.

“Dad? What are you saying?”

“I’m telling you that he used to come into my room at night,” Harper said. She swallowed. She’d never told anyone what had happened before. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t. It was as if the abuse was trapped, stuck deep down inside her. Her husband knew something had happened, and he knew she’d been traumatized, but even he didn’t know it was her father who had abused her.

Strangely, killing a man had freed something inside her. She wasn’t proud of it, but there it was. She wasn’t sure any therapist could get it all out of her, let alone help her in any meaningful way. But killing a man had freed her, and she knew it was time to at least try to rid herself of the bile before she burst.