Chapter 7
Noah
This is insane,” Emma said. “Right? Like, we’re crazy for doing this?”
I peered through the tree line toward her backyard. “Yes.”
Her neighborhood was small, just four houses, each on its own five-acre lot that abutted the town’s conservation area. We’d ridden into the forest on my dirt bike as far as the trails would take us, then turned off them to drive half a mile farther, before the scrub and rocks became untraversable. We’d hoofed it another quarter mile to the ridgeline behind our backs, where we’d waited as the sun set and darkness descended.
Emma had done surprisingly well, considering everything she’d been through and the fact that we’d been awake most of last night, making each other come so much that we’d woken up dehydrated. It made me think she was right, and that Beau must have been doing something to make her sick. The wordpoisonslipped through my mind, almost too ugly to consider, but if he’d done everything else we suspected, then why not that as well?
Because my mind couldn’t bear it, that’s why. Couldn’t understand how someone who was supposed to love and protect Emma had so badly abused and neglected her instead. I hoped we found something on him tonight. If not proof of insurance fraud, then something else, some sort of evidence we could use against him to show everyone that a monster lurked behind his Waspish facade.
Emma grabbed my arm and pulled me down behind an evergreen tree. “He’s leaving for work. That son of a bitch is actually going to work the night after burying me.”
I glanced through the pine needles to watch Beau’s Mercedes finish backing out of the driveway before he turned and headed up the road.
“I’m so sorry, Emma,” I said. She made a low, angry sound like a wildcat and started to stalk forward, but I grabbed her arm to stop her. “We should wait to make sure no one else is inside.”
She glanced at me and nodded, settling back down.
Only a single light was left on in the house, but we stayed where we were, watching for movement, waiting with bated breath as the night grew darker and the wind whistled through the branches overhead.
“It looks clear,” I said.
Emma released a shaky breath. “We’re really doing this.”
I turned to grip her shoulders. “We don’t have to. We can always call the state police instead, tell them everything, and hope the Broadturns’ influence doesn’t reach that far.”
She drew a deep breath and shook her head. “No. I don’t trust anyone but you at this point.”
An odd mix of feelings rushed through me to hear the words, pride that she trusted me already, sadness that no one else made the cut.
“Then let’s do this,” I told her. “Remember the plan?”
She nodded.
We were going to sneak to the back door, use the spare key inside the stone frog, disable the alarm, and then head straight to Beau’s office, touching as little as possible along the way. I wore a hat and gloves to try to mitigate the risk of leaving evidence behind, and I was hoping our dark outfits would help us blend into the night.
Emma was dressed in clothes my dad had picked up for her in town, a size too big, but it was better than wearing mine. Dad dropped them off earlier and told me he’d fixed her grave so it looked exactly as it had after her burial. If he was worried about why I’d asked for all-black clothes, he didn’t say, but the knowing look in his eyes as he made me promise to be careful told me he had his suspicions.
“You ready?” I asked Emma.
“I’m ready.”
Together, we moved as close as we could to the back door while staying within the tree line, where we paused again, scanning the surrounding area. It was even warmer tonight than last, the sky above us low and angry, like a storm was brewing. Sweat formed on my back. My heart beat a staccato rhythm against my rib cage. We saw no one, heard nothing, so I dashed toward the back door, Emma right behind me.
The frog wasn’t where she remembered. We experienced a brief moment of panic before I found it tucked beneath a nearby shrub and handed it over. Emma managed to get the door open, rushing straight inside to the alarm panel and quickly disabling it. I shut the door behind us and turned to meet her eyes. Despite the fact that she looked slightly terrified, she was grinning.
“I’ve never broken into a house before,” she whispered.
“The novelty wears off after your fourth or fifth.”
She shook her head at me, starting to catch on to my deadpan brand of humor, and I swept down and quickly kissed her, unable to help myself. She melted into me immediately, her hands roaming over my back, but I broke the kiss before we got carried away.
My gaze swept past her toward our surroundings. The basement was finished. To a high standard, judging by the hardwood flooring, plush couches, and full bar along the far wall. Everything was done in soft neutrals, creams and tans, with warm touches of raw wood and brass. No wonder they were in debt; this renovation alone must have set them back a pretty penny.
“Beau’s office is on the third floor,” Emma whispered.
