The playground loomed ahead. The swings hung motionless in the still air. I clicked off my flashlight as we approached, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. The oak stood at the far edge, its branches spread wide. The streetlamp glow was enough light to pick out the trunk, the hollow a darker shadow against the gnarled bark.
I reached into my jacket pocket, feeling the weight of the double-bagged rock. Even through the plastic, it seemed to pulse with accusation.
This was temporary. Just until I understood what it meant, what it proved. Just until I could be certain that turning it over wouldn't destroy Mia.
Leah deserved justice. I fully intended to get it for her.
The hollow gaped dark and deep, exactly as I remembered. I wedged the bag inside, pushing it back as far as my arm could reach, then covered the opening with a clump of dried leaves.
This wouldn't hold forever. The next storm might dislodge it. Some kid exploring might find it. But it bought me time. Time to think, to understand, to figure out who had really killed Leah Cho.
Apollo and I walked home through the sleeping streets. In the east, the sky became a pale smear as darker shapes began to separate into familiar objects: the trees, the blocky houses, the ghostly lake beyond.
The Everett house sat dark as I passed. The For Sale sign was gone. A white pickup truck sat in the driveway. Contractors, probably. Someone had finally bought it. A family starting fresh.Perhaps they'd never know what happened here, what drove the last family out in the middle of the night.
Blackthorn Shores was good at that, erasing the inconvenient, replanting over the rot.
I glanced at my phone. The memorial was scheduled for 5 p.m. tonight.
The memorial would draw them all into one place. I didn't have leverage yet, but I had the object they thought would bury us. And while the mothers had warned me to stay away from their daughters, at the service, they would be distracted.
That was my chance, possibly my best and only chance, to finally get answers.
I would look each girl in the eye and watch for the flinch, the tell.
Starting with Zara Hayward.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Blackthorn Shores Clubhouse gleamed in the late afternoon sun. I paused at the entrance, gripping Mia's hand. I had already dropped off the brownies at the clubhouse kitchen earlier in the morning.
Now, my pulse quickened. Marcus's funeral flashed across my mind. The grief and heartbreak. The devastation.
I squeezed Mia's fingers. "You ready?"
She nodded, her jaw set, her father's stubbornness in her chin.
Inside the clubhouse, wildflowers erupted from every surface: wild pink roses bursting from vases, white trillium woven into wreaths, sprays of columbine, purple coneflower, and wild lupine scattered across white linen. Leah's favorites.
The moment we stepped inside, the conversation snagged. Heads tipped our way. The room shifted toward us like a tide, then pretended not to. I swallowed the urge to flee.
Beside me, Mia went rigid. I straightened my knee-length black dress, shifted my oversized purse on my shoulder, and lifted my chin. "We can do this. We're Kincaids."
We moved to the memorial table. Framed photos traced Leah's life. Stuffed animals formed a half-moon around notes and cards.
Nearby, Jerome Hayward stood with Daniel Cho. Their headswere close, their voices low. Jerome's hand touched Daniel's shoulder briefly, then fell away. Daniel's face was slack with grief, his orthopedic surgeon's hands hanging useless at his sides.
They stood apart from the rest of the mourners, Jerome remaining at Daniel's side to offer support and comfort. They were good men. Marcus would have liked them.
Mia touched one of the photos. "None of these people cared about her. They couldn't be bothered when she was alive, but now they loved her?"
I squeezed her shoulder. "She was loved. You loved her."
Mia nodded like she didn't believe me.
"You remember the plan?" I'd recruited Mia to help me get Zara alone. In a few minutes, she would text Zara and ask her to meet in the clubhouse kitchen. I would be there instead.
Mia nodded. She stayed at the table, small and alone among flowers and apologies.
