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“Do you still get to see them much with everything going on?” Theo asks, the question sounding more like concern than anything else.

“Often enough,” she says, picking a bit of goat hair off her leggings. “Our properties connect in the back. Kat and I used to do garden parties together. But that stopped after the—” she waves vaguely, “—last round of this.”

I nod my understanding. That’s one way to describe the murder of your father.

Her eyes flick to mine. “It was a tragedy. And tragedies are awkward things. They make people stop calling. Stop coming by. Everyone’s afraid of making eye contact after a family member dies or something. It’s the fear that one moment of connection will push them into emotions they’re already drowning in.”

Even the goats seem to pause, their little hooves barely audible in the grass.

Then, as if she’s physically shoved the mood out the door, Nora claps her hands. “But enough of that! I refuse to let death win on a Thursday.”

She fans herself with one hand. “God, it’s warm out here,” she says, laughing lightly. “Why did I wear a jacket?”

Before I can respond, she unzips it and shrugs it off, and that’s when I see it.

A braided leather cord sits snug against her throat, the ends knotted neatly at the back of her neck. My stomach drops so fast I nearly sway with it. It’s identical to the one Theo found in Katherine’s drawer.

Beside me, I sense Theo catch it too.

I try to keep my voice steady. “That’s a pretty piece,” I nod toward the lariat. “Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, this?” Nora touches it absentmindedly, her fingers tracing the braid. “My dad gave them to all of us ages ago—me, Mom, Katherine. The grandkids too. Said they reminded him of the horses he used to train. They’re made from old reins, I think. A little weird, right?” She laughs, oblivious to the way my pulse hammers harder with every word. “But he said they were a symbol. Something about loyalty, family, and the ties that keep us intertwined with one another regardless of where we were in life. He was sentimental like that.”

Theo wraps his arm around my back, his fingers curving around my side as he pulls me in. It probably reads as a casual gesture to anyone watching, but between us it’s heavy with implication. I can practically feel the unspoken words between us: each member of this entire fucking family has the same goddamn cord.

Nora hums softly, still fiddling with the necklace. “Funny, isn’t it? We’ve all got one somewhere. I never see anyone else wear theirs, though. Mom’s is probably buried in one of her jewelry boxes.”

I set my expression carefully, throat dry. “It’s lovely,” I manage.

Nora laughs softly. “It’s not my style, that’s for sure, but it makes me feel close to him. My dad, I mean. Guess we all hang on to strange things after people die.”

She means it. I hear it in the way she speaks. The long-held, persistent grief that doesn’t look for reassurance anymore. My own has shifted shape so many times it doesn’t always recognize itself.

Nora exhales, rubbing her hands down the front of her thighs. “Anyway. Life goes on, right? Whether we’re ready or not.”

Sure fucking does.

Because if there’s one thing—one bright spot in this entire weird, goat-yoga-infused detour—it’s that we now know Baryn’s house is completely empty for the next few days.

And empty houses always come in handy when you’re hunting for secrets.

14

CASE FILE OVERLOAD

LILA

Breaking into someone’s house is that it’s significantly less cool than it looks in the movies. Less Mission: Impossible, more “sweaty palms and praying your flashlight doesn’t die,” plus the added bonus of wondering if you’ll twist your ankle in the dark and have to explain it to an emergency room nurse.

Also, Theo is way too calm about all this. It makes me question if this is truly his first time breaking and entering, after he harassed me about breaking into the lab.

It took us two hours and half a bottle of wine to figure out the best path according to the blueprint we found in the archives, but once we got back to our room and started retracing the lines against the layout of the house, it clicked. Those narrow, barely visible markings snaking beneath the estate like veins were, in fact, tunnels, just as we had originally expected.

They connect the main house to the guest quarters, the greenhouse, the stables, even the old garden shed.

And, to the other houses on the property.

We found that the blueprints noted that some were blocked off, others partially collapsed, but a few were still navigable. Hidden in plain sight.