“My sweet boy!” I try to hug him, but he can’t sit still. His tail wags so fast his whole bottom wiggles. “Let’s go inside and get a treat!”
Becky follows and unhooks Oscar’s leash from his collar. He immediately darts to the kitchen and living room, where he stops, looks all around, and runs up the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Connor shouts after him.
We listen to the sound of his paws padding down the hall and into each room.
“He’s looking for your mom,” Becky explains somberly.
His toenails click all around the hardwood floor in her bedroom.
Connor moves to the bottom of the stairs and looks up. “We could try and smuggle him into the hospital.”
“Great idea, genius. Then we’d end up in jail too.”
Oscar trots down the stairs and tries the basement next, ignoring us as he passes. Connor follows. Only then do I notice that Becky has wandered into the family room. She inspects the piles of books on the floor and my mom’s empty desk, where her laptop used to be.
“How are you holding up?” Becky asks.
“Not great,” I reply. “All I want is for Mom to come home.”
“That’s what I want too.” She turns to me, and we embrace.
I’m not sure how long Becky holds me, or how many tears spill from my eyes, but when I step back, Oscar is at my feet, staring up at me. He looks worried, so I scratch behind his ears and drop to one knee.
“Everything’ll be okay,” I tell him. He starts to pant, maybe because he knows I’m lying. I have no idea if things will get better, and frankly, I’ve spent a lot of time imagining the worst. “I promised you a treat, didn’t I?”
He bounces on his back legs, so I rise and get the bag of freeze-dried liver treats from the pantry.
“Sit, Oscar! Good boy.” I set the treat on the floor, and he gobbles it up in a millisecond.
When I turn back around to face Becky, I see Dad standing at the far end of the kitchen island, staring at her.
“Hey,” he coolly says.
She averts her gaze, and I’m not sure if she’s angry with him for what happened to Mom or if she’s feeling guilty about what she told the police.
“Thanks for bringing Oscar back,” Dad says.
“You’re welcome.” After an awkward silence, she meets his gaze. “I should probably get going.”
My stomach pulls tight with dismay as I watch her head for the door. Dad steps aside and lets her pass, and I have no doubt that he blames her for the search warrant. He must know that she talked to them.
Becky hurries to pull on her overcoat while Dad remains in the kitchen without seeing her out. I’m not sure what to say. All I know is that this feels wrong. Becky has been good to us. She’s been an honorary aunt, while Dad has been absent for everything that has ever mattered in my life.
I can’t let Becky leave like this, so I follow her to the door. “Thanks for looking after Oscar.”
“It was no problem, sweetheart.” She pulls me fast into her arms again and whispers in my ear. “Don’t blame him. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
She steps back, and again, I don’t know what to say. I don’t want her to feel bad about what happened. The truth is the truth. I understand that she didn’t want to lie to the police. I wouldn’t want to do that either. I’m only sixteen, but I’ve watched enough true crime documentaries to know that the truth always comes out in the end.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nate
I wake at dawn, before the kids stir, and stand with a cup of hot coffee at the window in my den. Snow has fallen. The pinkish glow of sunrise casts an ethereal light on the street. Ice crystals sparkle like gemstones, and I wish Sienna were here to see it. She’s always appreciated the color variations and patterns of the natural world. From it, she drew inspiration for her decor.
I, in turn, drew inspiration fromher. Without knowing Sienna, I never would have made it as a chef. I owe her everything, which is why I’m steeped in regret over the choices I’ve made. Whenever I think of her last words to me, I feel myself eroding into a pit of disgrace.
