You never know who is watching.
[End sting: the same low pulse, then the metallic sigh of a door shutting. Fade to silence.]
END OF TRANSCRIPT
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Shae
Harper’s voice cracks like dry kindling, but she doesn’t stop talking. She’s curled up at the end of my linen couch, blanket pulled over her knees like a trembling ingénue in a therapy session. My mother studied my mind for years under the guise of devoted therapist, but apparently not enough to notice I had one. And I was taking notes.
The wineglass trembles in Harper’s hand. Candlelight throws soft shadows across her face, making her look younger, more fragile—like a woman still clinging to innocence even after she sold it.
By the second glass of wine, she finally confesses the thing she’s only ever told James.
A crime. A sibling. A cover-up.
“My sister did something a long time ago,” she whispers. “Something that could’ve ruined her life. I made a bad decision that I’ve regretted every day since.”
“Life is decisions,” I say, soft and steady. “No good or bad ones—just consequences. I would never judge you. You know that, right?” I pat her knee with my palm, sympathy by muscle memory.
Her eyes flick to mine, searching for judgment. Pity. Redemption.
She finds only a smile.
“I’ve never said it out loud to anyone,” she whispers, and I swear the words leave her like a release. “Not even to myself. Not really.”
“Oh, honey.” My voice goes warm, slow. I swirl my wine lazily, glass catching the light. “Secrets always feel heavier when we carry them alone.”
“When I was nineteen,” she starts, “my sister—Renee—was dating this guy. Total loser. I didn’t like him. Nobody did. One night she calls me crying, says he hit her. I drive over, ready to drag her out, but when I get there…” She swallows. “…he’s on the floor. Not moving. Not breathing.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Go on.”
“She was hysterical. Said he fell, hit his head. But I could tell she was lying.” Harper stares into her glass. “I didn’t ask questions. I just helped her load him into the trunk.”
I smile, small and private. “How sisterly.”
Her throat works. “We drove out past the old quarry. Dumped him in. Never saw him again.”
“And no one came asking?” I keep my tone casual, like we’re discussing weather.
She shakes her head. “No one cared enough to. He didn’t have family. He just… disappeared.”
“And James?” I prompt.
She hesitates. “James was there. He followed us in his car. Helped me keep my story straight when the cops asked where I’d been that night. He’s the only one who knows.”
“Until now.”
Her eyes snap to mine. “You can’t?—”
“Relax.” I lean back. “I’m not the cops. And even if I were, your secret is boring compared to mine.”
A shaky laugh escapes her, but the terror stays, floating under it like sediment.
I take my first sip. “You know what I love about people, Harper? They think predators look like monsters.” I tilt my head. “But not always. Sometimes they look like friends.”
She blinks, confused.
