“Yes?”
“You’re about to break and enter.”
She shrugged. “Technically just enter.”
“That’s not better.”
“Come on. Maybe there’s a clue, a picture, a clue in a picture. I don’t know. I’ve seen enough crime dramas for this to be a logical step.”
With a deeply concerning amount of confidence, she slipped inside.
I hesitated for exactly three seconds, sighed, and muttered, “You’re actually insane. This is highly illegal.”
But I followed her anyway. I was starting to realize something stupid and heart-wrenchingly obvious.
I would follow her anywhere.
She grinned over her shoulder. “Live a little.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Ellie
“Ellie, this is a bad idea,”Sawyer said, trailing behind me.
The house felt suspended in time—clean but almost forgotten. I couldn't tell if someone still lived here or not. Maybe I was crazy for crossing this threshold uninvited, but recklessness had taken hold of me.
Following cryptic journal entries and breaking into someone's home should have felt insane. It probablywasinsane, but I wanted answers.
The front door had been unlocked, after all. That had to mean something. Was it an invitation? Or at least justifiable if anyone asked questions.
That was what I kept telling myself.
The living room was normal enough—decent furniture, just a little dated. In the kitchen, I found what I was looking for. There it was, sitting on the windowsill above the sink: a picture of Sawyer’s house and the willow tree. I glanced at Sawyer, who sighed and walked toward me.
“Shit,” I muttered. “It’s her. Where is she, though?”
His brow furrowed. “No idea.”
A car pulled up, tires crunching over gravel.
My heart stopped. “Oh my gosh.”
“Fuck,” Sawyer said.
“What do we do? We can’t just talk to her when we’re inside her home!”
“I don’t know! This was your idea!”
“Let’s run out the back,” I hissed, pointing to the door like it was some brilliant plan I’d invented.
Sawyer didn’t argue. He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. We were halfway there when a voice snapped from behind us.
“What the hell!”
We bolted.
I stumbled down the back steps, adrenaline thrumming so loud, I could barely hear myself think. The backyard was muddy and uneven. I was absolutely not built for speed. Sawyer, of course, was annoyingly fast. His long legs cleared the yard in seconds.
