“Suzannah, was Tommy working from home the day Hazel went missing?” I asked.
She looked confused. “What. Why?”
“Answer the question.”
She glanced from my parents to me. “Yes. I think so. He pretty much always works from home,” Suzannah sputtered, trying to figure out where I was going with this.
It felt like my chest had cleaved in two, cracking my ribs open to expose my frigid heart.
“Were you with him?” I pressed her.
Suzannah still looked confused but was becoming more scared by the second. She spoke slowly. “No, the kids were with my mom that day so I could run a bunch of errands. Why?”
I felt another wave of pain rush over me. Pullman had told me that Hazel had been spotted on the west side of town—which was where Tommy and Suzannah lived. Had Hazel confronted him there with what she’d figured out?
My mother was in front of me now, shoving my father to the side.
“Rose, baby. What is going on?” It was clear she understood that something had happened.
My voice turned shrill. “I think … I think Tommy killed Alex,” I said, barely getting the words out through my sobs. “And I think Hazel confronted him about it.”
Suzannah jumped backward, like I had hit her. “No.”
My father shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
I could barely breathe. I could hardly form the words.
“Sam Hopely told Hazel that she saw Will out there with Alex that night,” I managed, struggling to catch my breath as my parents made eye contact. “She never told the police because she said she felt guilty, like maybe if she’d done something she could’ve stopped what happened.” I swallowed. “But she also told Hazel, and then me, that Will was wearing a bright orange T-shirt.”
I picked up the photo of Hazel and Tommy and handed it to my father. “I found this face down on Hazel’s bookshelf.”
My father said nothing, staring down at the framed photo.
“Oh, come on,” Suzannah said, frantic. “It’s a T-shirt, Rose! That doesn’t mean anything!”
“Keith …” My mother trailed off, reaching for the frame. My father handed it over without a fight.
“I think that’s why she was on the west side of town,” I said, more tears falling as my parents processed what I was saying.
“No!”Suzannah shook her head. “No, no, no. I … This isn’t possible, Rose.”
“But the shirt,” I said, my whole body shaking. “They looked so alike back then. Hazel must’ve thought—”
“You don’t know what Hazel thought!” Suzannah seethed. “And there has to be a better explanation for all of this besides the color of a T-shirt!”
She was pacing, her face growing more and more angry. “For someone who’s spent her entire life defending Will, you sure feel pretty comfortable accusing your other brother of the same thing!” The insult stuck and she kept going. “I’m sure Will had an orange shirt too. Or they shared that one. My god, this is hardly a slam dunk.”
Maybe. It would be so easy to believe that. I too had thought of his University of Florida merch. But one of them had to have done this. And if Hazel’s and Alex’s cases were connected, the way I knew they had to be, then it had to be Tommy.
“I’m calling him,” I said, scrambling for my phone in my pockets and realizing I left it on my own bed. My mother was still clutching the frame. My father was frozen beside her.
Suzannah let out another cry of frustration. “This is ridiculous, Rose!”
“Then he can tell me that!” I said. I had flat-out asked Will this question a thousand times, in a thousand iterations.Did you hurt Alex? Did you kill her?Every time, I had believed him.
I had never asked Tommy. Never had any reason to before now. But I needed to confront him now. To hear his voice when he answered my question.
My father’s phone was sticking out of the pocket of his sweatpants. I reached for it, thankful he didn’t believe in passcodes. I scrolled to his recent calls. Tommy was the second to last. I pressed the button, holding the phone to my ear.
