Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(72)

Aria could see the upper half of her mom above the railing. Her cheekbones were still a prominent feature, but her porcelain skin was now ashen. Dark shadows circled eyes that held no warmth. She’d always appeared tall, almost regal, to Aria, but now she looked shrunken, her shoulders slumped forward.

“You killed Dad,” Aria said, hoping to throw her off her game and get her attention off Harper. “Why?”

“I spent my entire life covering up for his mistakes,” Mom said, closing in on Harper. “I wasn’t going to let him ruin everything because of a momentary lapse in judgment.”

“What are you going to do with his body?”

“None of your concern.”

Mom pulled a leather cord with the key from around her neck and tossed it over the stair rail to the floor. It landed in front of Aria’s feet. The hand with the gun remained steady.

The room was small—nothing more than four cement walls. There wasn’t any place for Harper or Aria to run to.

Aria bent over and picked up the key. Her own gun was tucked away in her waistband, but she couldn’t risk having Mom fire her gun in a panic.

“Open the door and get inside the crawl space,” Mom ordered.

“You don’t think people will wonder what happened to Dad?” Aria asked.

Mom snorted. “The people of River Rock will believe whatever I tell them.” She gestured for Aria to get moving.

“You can’t kill us all,” Aria told her as she inserted the key and purposely failed to open the lock. “Harper’s husband and all our friends know where we are. They’ll call the police and come looking for us. Turn yourself in before it’s too late.”

Mom reached the landing and jabbed Harper with the gun. “Get inside the crawl space with your sister.”

Harper walked toward Aria.

Aria turned the key again. This time the lock came free, and she opened the crawl space door. She poked her head inside and saw Sawyer scooting her way. “She’ll never let us out,” Sawyer said, her voice hoarse.

Aria knew that was true. She’d seen what Mom was capable of. She had killed her own husband, the person who had stood by her side for forty years.

If she and Harper climbed inside, they would all die.

Before Aria straightened again, she reached into her waistband for her gun. Then she pivoted on her feet, weapon aimed at her mom. She really did hope that Mom would listen and do as she said. Nobody should have to kill their own mother, but she would do it if she had to. She’d seen the pain someone like Joyce Brooks could cause. Justice would be served, one way or another. “Put your gun down or I’ll shoot.”

Mom didn’t flinch. “You’ll never pull the—”

Aria pulled the trigger.

The sound was deafening.

Mom’s eyes grew round with surprise. A tiny gasp escaped her before she toppled to the ground. The gun hit the floor and rattled around. Harper grabbed it, kept it pointed at Mom’s chest. Harper’s gaze met Aria’s. “It’s okay,” Harper said. “It’s okay.”

Aria turned toward the tiny opening to help Sawyer out of the crawl space.

They were all alive. Maybe Harper was right. Maybe it was okay. It might be a while before she knew for sure, but right now, she needed to do what she would have done if Uncle Theo hadn’t drugged her all those years ago . . . she needed to help her little sister.

Sawyer could hardly stand, her legs wobbly like a newborn foal. She was caked with dirt. The side of her face was badly bruised. Her hair was tangled and matted. Pale and seemingly in shock, she asked in a raspy voice, “How did you know to come?”

“You didn’t check in like you promised,” Aria said.

Aria couldn’t take her eyes off Sawyer. A row of reddish-purple bruises circled Sawyer’s neck. She remembered the story Sawyer had told her about how the math teacher had attempted to strangle her to death.

“What happened to your voice?”

Sawyer held on to the wall for support while she found her balance. “I’ve been screaming for nearly two days. Where’s Melanie?”

“Your friend is going to be okay,” Aria said.

“I’m right here.” Melanie came halfway down the stairs, stopping when she saw their mother in a heap on the ground. Melanie didn’t look much better than anyone else standing in the cramped basement. “I called for help,” she said.

Sirens sounded.

“Come on,” Aria said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What about her?” Melanie asked, pointing at Mom.

The bullet had struck her front and center, where limp hands still rested and blood seeped through long pale fingers.

Harper felt for a pulse, then said, “Joyce is dead.”





CHAPTER FORTY

Sawyer, Harper, Aria, and Melanie had sat in the salon while Chief Schneider, Aspen, and another police officer Sawyer didn’t recognize made their way methodically through the house, careful not to touch anything as pictures were taken and an official account of what happened was pieced together and recorded.

Melanie and Harper were attended to on-site while Chief Schneider took in both of their accounts, one at a time and in separate rooms, before they were taken to the hospital. After that, he’d talked to Aria and then Sawyer while his men gathered evidence and took pictures.