Harrison’s house is so quiet that the slam of a car door outside strikes like lightning—even over the rainfall.
This isn’t some bustling suburban street with constant passing cars or chattering neighbors serving as background noise. The house sits at the terminus of a private dead-end road that few have reason to come to.
It’s been nearly twenty minutes since I left Rory parked outside. Twenty minutes he’s been sitting there alone, rain drumming his car, watching for trouble. And not a single text from him. That suddenly feels suspicious. Why hasn’t he checked in? Is he still out there? Did something happen?
I’m sure as hell not going to sit here and find out,I think, jumping out of the desk chair.
The leather squelches beneath me, and I spin it carefully back into place as though erasing evidence of me being here. My musclesvibrate with adrenaline as I step into motion, creeping down the hall.
I can picture it: the front door yawning open mid-sprint, Harrison stepping inside, his keys jingling, catching me gliding past the threshold.
Heart jackhammering, I skim past the front door, darting for the living room, eyes locked on the entryway windows, praying not to see the shape of a figure on the porch. Through the glass, the yard seems vacant, but everything quivers under the relentless rain. It’s hard to tell what’s real.
When I make it back to the window, I finally take my eyes off the front door and look in front of me. It almost happens in slow motion, my eyes flicking ahead to the window, spotting a person’s face, framed perfectly in the glass.
I stop so abruptly it feels like I’ve slammed into an invisible wall—as though standing still will camouflage me. The figure stands motionless on the other side, the rain streaming down their hood, blurring their features.
“What are you doing in there?” the person whispers.
A breath leaves me in a single ragged gust. It’s Rory.
I nearly topple with relief, but continue silently stepping toward the window, closing the distance between us.
I jam my feet into my boots without a word, knowing I have no defense. I grab my bundled raincoat from the floor and pass it through the window, swinging my leg over and out.
Only once I’m outside, boots on wet earth, raincoat snug, the window latched behind me, do I speak. My voice is a frantic whisper as I scan the road.
“Is he home?” I ask, earsplitting rain pattering against everything around us.
“No,” he whispers. “But you were taking a while and I got worried.”
I grab his arm, leading us quickly up the slick front path. We slide back into his car, doors thudding shut in unison, and I drag the seat belt across my chest with shaking hands.
As Rory starts the engine, I can’t stop replaying what I found. What more might’ve been hidden on that computer—emails, search histories. How close I might’ve been to proof, if I’d had even five more minutes.
Still, what Ididsee confirms what I feared: Harrison Klein has been watching me. He knew Mom. And he could have killed Madison. Maybe. He, at least, was one of the last people to see her alive.
I’m stumped on how I’ll tie any of this together.
I face Rory. “The window was already open, and I wanted to look around. I know I shouldn’t have.”
He gives me a long look, buckling his seat belt and turning on the ignition. “For all you know, he has cameras hidden in the house. Or a wife downstairs in bed.”
“How’d you know he has a downstairs?” I ask, sharper than intended.
He blinks at me. “You can see it from our houses. I’m just assuming.”
I shake my head. “I know it was stupid. But I was in and out. It was no big deal, really.”
It’s a lie, bitter on my tongue. The things I found aren’t something I can hand over lightly. And knowing that Emmett and Harrison are close, I can’t risk this getting back to him through Rory. There’s still a sore, pulsing part of me that wonders if I can trust him fully.
Of course I can,I tell myself.
Rory spins the car into a U-turn and makes the winding trek back to North Lake Blair.
“Well… did you at least find anything in there?”
I pause a moment, deciding what exactly I’m willing to share.
