What We'll Burn Last, page 20
Now Leyna moved to the other side of the counter, locking her eyes on Meredith’s, arms crossed as she awaited answers. She seemed to be feeling much better now. Meredith shouldn’t have given her that yogurt.
“I only meant that Grace was in a foul mood the night she ran away.”
It was more than Meredith had ever offered Leyna, but her daughter appeared dissatisfied. “Why do you assume she left on her own?”
“Like I said, she was in a bad mood that day.” She motioned to Leyna’s scar. “As you know. She’d been talking about leaving for months, and I always assumed that’s why she left.”
Meredith declined to mention all that had happened with Adam after she’d thwacked him with the mallet.
Grace’s question that night came back to her but in Adam’s voice: Why’d you do that?
Meredith almost told Leyna what she’d realized when her daughter started suspecting Adam in Grace’s death: If Adam killed her, it might have been in self-defense.
Meredith was girding herself for whatever question came next when Leyna said, “I don’t believe she ran away, though maybe she intended to.”
Leyna let her statement settle, a challenge—she was offering her own memories, but they came at a cost. One Meredith couldn’t afford to pay, for Leyna’s sake. And for Grace’s memory.
But perhaps she could give enough that it felt at least a little like the closure her daughter had been seeking for far too long.
“Tell me,” Meredith said.
Leyna nodded once, confirmation of their unspoken contract—a secret for a secret.
“I saw Grace leave that night. She’d changed from the blue blouse to a black one. There’d been… a fight, and there was blood on her sleeve.”
Meredith struggled to keep her expression masked, even as her thoughts churned. Was it possible Leyna knew about Meredith hitting Adam with the mallet? There had been so much blood—head wounds were like that—and some of it had indeed landed on Grace. Meredith hadn’t realized Grace had changed her shirt, but of course she had. She must’ve been a real mess by the end of the night.
But she quickly realized that wasn’t the blood Leyna referenced. She’d meant the fight between her daughters that had left Leyna with a wound on her arm. Meredith didn’t know all of what had happened—Leyna had always been stubborn with her secrets—but she knew enough to understand the fight had been Grace’s fault. It was always Grace’s fault.
Leyna stared at her before she finally said, “That’s the problem with the anonymous tip about Grace being seen at that campground after she went missing—the caller said she was still wearing her blue shirt. She wasn’t.”
A cold dread seeped into Meredith’s bones. So from the beginning, Leyna had known the tip was fake.
Did she also suspect Meredith had been the one who called it in?
Meredith composed her expression but didn’t trust herself to speak. Leyna’s gaze was sharp, her smart green eyes assessing. But she would never see the guilt there. Meredith was a master of deceit.
“I think she might’ve meant to run away but something happened,” Leyna said. “Someone stopped her. And even if she did leave on her own, I don’t think—” She paused for a quick breath. “I don’t think she would’ve been in good shape.”
Meredith fought a tic at her right eye. Why can’t she ever let things go? “Why would you think that?”
“She wouldn’t have left for good without taking some things with her.”
“What would she have taken?” Meredith said dismissively. “Not her phone, because that could be tracked. She didn’t have credit cards. So cash, her ID. Or, even better, a fake ID. A photo or two. All of that could fit in her pockets.”
Leyna’s expression didn’t waver. “She would’ve taken her camera, at least.”
Meredith had nothing to say to that, because Leyna was right.
“She was heading into the forest, not toward the road,” Leyna said. “She didn’t have access to a car, and how far is it to town? She couldn’t have gone on foot. She wouldn’t have.”
Another truth. Grace loved to run, to dance, to move. But in spurts. She bored easily, and a long walk into town or even to the main highway wouldn’t have appealed to her.
Leyna continued. “Besides, she was alone. Wasn’t your theory that she and Adam left together?”
“It wasn’t just my theory. They’d talked about going to Chicago, and remember that woman, Charlotte something, who owned the house before the Millers? She saw them walking toward the road holding hands.”
“Charlotte lied,” Leyna said. “I know what I saw.”
“Perhaps she decided to go it alone. She and Adam were fighting. It could’ve been because she wanted him to leave with her, and he didn’t want to go.”
Leyna’s eyes became lasers. “Like I said, she would’ve taken—”
Her expression faltered, and her breaths came quicker. Whatever had occurred to her, she kept it to herself. But a moment later, Meredith got there too. The three Polaroids from Rocky’s place. Creased. Smudged.
Voice shaky, Leyna said, “If she’d taken photos with her, she would’ve had to fold them so they fit in her pockets.”
And yet, all these years later, the photos had found their way back into this house.
Leyna looked away. Unfortunate, since that brought her gaze to the hidden canvas at the end of the room. Her thick brows shot together and she canted her head. Meredith sensed her intention before she took a step. She slipped between her daughter and the easel.
“Why’re you painting in the kitchen?”
Meredith never painted in the kitchen.
“I’m not,” she said. “I just wanted to see it in this light.”
“The lighting’s too warm in here.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Or so you’ve always told me.”
Not for the first time, Meredith wished her daughter were more obtuse. “For painting, that’s true, but it’s perfect for viewing this particular work,” she said, hoping the authority with which she spoke would kill her daughter’s curiosity.
It didn’t. “What’re you painting?”
“It’s for a client.” That should do it, she thought. Leyna avoided extended conversations about Meredith’s work. Her profession wasn’t illegal—not exactly—but the grayer areas of life had always made her younger daughter uncomfortable. That was Leyna—driven to do the right thing, as if it were ever as clear as that.
“Let me see.” There was an unexpected challenge in Leyna’s voice.
“It’s not finished.”
“That’s fine.”
“Not my best work either.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true. Let me offer you a second opinion.”
Leyna had once said a cow sculpted of butter was the most amazing work of art she’d ever seen. “We should think about evacuating before the roads are blocked,” Meredith said.
“Deflect and confuse.”
“What?”
“What’re you hiding?”
Meredith opened a closet and quickly stowed the painting. She hardened the planes of her face.
“Leave it.”
Irritation flashed in her daughter’s eyes, but when she spoke, her voice was weary. “Do you think Grace is dead?”
Meredith wanted to reassure her as she had so many times before, but she knew any attempt would ring false. For the past sixteen years, she’d been protecting her elder daughter, but if Leyna was right—if Grace had walked into the forest alone that night—maybe Meredith was wrong about everything else too.
CHAPTER 34
LEYNA
Saturday, 1:18 p.m.
Someone pounded at the door. There was an urgency behind it—or was it anger?—and she pictured the visitor outside wielding a side fist like a hammer. Leyna’s first thought was Dominic, her second the fire. She hesitated, anxious about an update on either of those topics.
Her mom yanked open the door, stance wide, as if ready for a fight. On the porch, Rocky met her mother’s scowl with an even deeper one before his eyes found Leyna’s.
Yeah, definitely anger there.
“You broke my window,” he said. Clearly, their visitor wasn’t looking for confirmation.
“I did.” She offered no apology, plucked a photo from the counter. It was the one of Rocky with Grace and their mom.
He crossed to her, and she waited for him to snatch the photo from her hands. Instead, his arms remained pinned to his sides as he squinted at the Polaroid. “Yeah. So?”
Rocky took a step into her personal space, his body radiating heat, and she was reminded of the foot or so he had on her. In height and width.
“What were you doing in my house?” It wasn’t quite a growl, but the threat was clear.
Leyna tilted her chin to better see his face but kept her feet planted. She wouldn’t be the one to retreat. She raised the photo to keep it in his line of sight. “Finding this.” She gestured toward the counter. “And those.”
This set him back a step. Eyes narrowing, he spent several seconds assessing her. Then he went to the counter and stood over the photos. He didn’t touch these either. After a moment, he turned back to Leyna. “What are these?”
“Obviously, they’re photos. From your cottage.”
“I can see they’re photos, but they’re not mine.” He pointed a meaty finger toward the picture she held. “I’ve never seen any of these.”
“They were in an envelope—”
He interrupted. “Envelope?”
“These were in an envelope taped to the bottom of a dresser drawer.”
“What’re you playing at here?” His face darkened, and she felt abruptly more afraid of him than she had at any time during their walk in the forest. “You’re not going to make me the villain in this story like you tried to do with Adam.”
Her mom surprised her by coming to her side. “She found these in your cottage. You must’ve known they were there, considering your place is only slightly larger than my downstairs bath.”
Leyna shot her a look. “You’ve been to his place?”
“Jesus, Leyna, you act like I just admitted we’re sleeping together.” She rolled her eyes. “I told you I did a commission for him. He invited me in for a beer.”
“You drink beer?”
Rocky stepped back from the island, as if disavowing ownership. “Not mine,” Rocky said again, more emphatically.
“Your cottage,” her mom repeated.
“When’s the last time you checked underneath your dresser drawers?”
“Why would I? There’s nothing there.”
“Five minutes ago, I would’ve said the same.” He turned to Leyna, scowling. “You owe me a window. Hopefully it won’t cost more than a hundred and fifty-two dollars.”
Leyna gathered the three Polaroids, returned them to her pocket, and threw a sideways glance at Rocky, who seemed to be the only one who wasn’t looking for answers about what had happened to Grace.
Maybe because he already knew.
“You got the fourth one?” Leyna asked. “Because it’s still missing.”
“I didn’t even have those.”
Leyna closed the small gap he’d created between them. “She wasn’t going to meet Adam that night,” she said. “She was headed to your place. Did she get there?”
Rocky’s silence was answer enough.
“That’s how you knew she’d changed her shirt.”
Rocky’s eyes narrowed in warning. Drop it. “Someone probably mentioned it.”
“No one else knew.” She turned to her mom. “Did you know?”
“No. I didn’t.”
Leyna locked eyes with Rocky again. “See. Only me and, apparently, you. She wanted a ride, didn’t she?” It was a guess—if Grace had run away, she would’ve needed a lift into town—but Rocky’s deepening scowl confirmed she was right.
“Did you give her one?”
This time, he shook his head and directed his response to her mom. “I told her to go home, and if she still needed a ride in the morning, I would give her one.”
His expression hardened as it had back in the forest when she’d mentioned her mother. Leyna studied his face for any sign that he’d lied, that there was something he was afraid to say. He didn’t look like he was lying or afraid. Still, she suspected he held something back. And the way he stared at her mom made her think her mom knew whatever it was he kept from her. “Why did she want a ride?”
“She didn’t say.”
There. A twitch at his right eye. A lie. Leyna pushed. “She must’ve said something.”
“I told her to go home,” he repeated.
Leyna thought she saw a flash of regret, but he buried it quickly. If he was telling the truth, she understood. For sixteen years, she’d lived with her own guilt after watching Grace walk away.
But again—if he was telling the truth.
“A girl comes to you in distress asking for a ride and says nothing about why she needs it.” Leyna made her sarcasm as thick as she was able. Which was pretty damn thick. She’d learned from the best of them.
Rocky turned to her mom again, as if she were the one Leyna had addressed and they were both awaiting her response. She felt her mother stiffen beside her, but neither she nor Rocky spoke. In the silence, his breathing grew heavier. Her mom’s too.
Rocky looked at Leyna. “We’ll settle up on the window later. I’ll mail you an invoice.”
He started to leave, then paused in the doorway. “I’m sorry for your loss, Leyna, but if you come near my house again, I might have to shoot you.”
CHAPTER 35
OLIVIA
Saturday, 1:20 p.m.
With Goose’s help, Olivia found Thea under the bed in the room that had once been Adam’s, noise-canceling headphones over her ears. Olivia lay down on her side on the floor, and Goose wriggled between them.
“We need to go,” Olivia said. “You got your bag?”
Thea, lying on her back, took off the headphones but continued staring at the bottom of the bed.
“We’ll find a hotel,” Olivia said, “and then we can go out for pizza. You must be hungry.”
“We were supposed to have brunch,” Thea said. “We were going to have frittatas and invite Leyna over.”
Frittatas, yes. Leyna, no. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Things just got… complicated. Next weekend.”
Olivia felt a surge of guilt at disappointing her daughter the same way her parents had disappointed her so many times. She vowed to herself that the following Saturday, she would make Thea a brunch with waffles, pancakes, and French toast.
She reached under the bed, but her fingertips fell short of Thea’s. “Tonight, though, there will be pizza,” she said. “Whatever toppings you want.”
Thea stretched out and rested her palm on Goose’s back. The dog squirmed against her hand, self-petting. “Where’s Dominic?”
“He was looking for you,” Olivia said. “We all were.”
“I don’t want to go. They said we didn’t have to yet.”
She considered getting Dominic. He’d always been better at reading Thea. When Thea’s closest friend had moved away, he’d drawn monkeys in dry-erase marker on a glass pie plate and added water to make them dance. When she’d gotten a C minus on a science project, he’d recited the names of famous scientists who did poorly in school and made her laugh when he added cartoon characters to the list: No, really, Rick Sanchez and Professor Farnsworth both failed fifth-grade science.
Dominic listened and responded with whatever it was Thea needed, whether that be a thoughtful word, a silly joke, or silence and cake-batter ice cream.
Olivia tried to channel her son—what did Thea want in that moment?
But of course it was obvious. She wanted to stay, and Olivia couldn’t give her that. So she gave her the truth instead.
“It’s voluntary for now, but the fire’s getting closer, and we don’t want to wait too long. You remember what happened the last time. It’s not safe to stay.”
Thea remained on her back but turned her head toward Olivia. “Can I go with Dominic?”
“Dominic’s coming with us.” No matter what he’d said, Olivia wasn’t leaving without her son in the back seat of the Audi.
Olivia reached out to brush the hair from Thea’s forehead, but her daughter retreated farther under the bed.
“What about his car?” Thea asked.
“He can leave it.” Olivia felt the last of her patience draining away. She reached to where Thea’s hand rested on Goose’s back and grabbed it tightly so she couldn’t pull away. “We need to go, Thea. Now.”
When she felt Thea strain, Olivia released her hold. Her daughter rolled over so she could scratch Goose’s rump. His hind legs kicked in appreciation. Watching them jerk, Thea grew agitated. “Can I sit in the back seat with Dominic?”
“Of course.” Olivia patted the floor to get the dog’s attention. “Come,” she said to Goose. She glanced at Thea. “Both of you.”
The girl wriggled away and emerged a second later on the other side of the bed. Olivia could tell something was bothering Thea, but she’d explore that later, when they’d made it to the hotel. She wondered if they would have to drive all the way to Reno to find a room. Were any roads closed?
Whatever. They’d figure it out.
In the hall, Olivia slowed as they passed the wall where she had marked the kids’ heights, Adam’s and Dominic’s lines faded, Thea’s bolder.
They walked past the bathroom the brothers had shared, then Dominic’s bedroom, still arranged as it had been when he’d left for college.
In her head, she rewound the years to a time both of her sons had been alive and happy in this house, and her grip tightened on her daughter’s hand.
Then she remembered the woman her husband had screwed in their bedroom, and maybe it wasn’t enough to replace the sheets. Maybe it would be best if the whole neighborhood burned to ash.
But not just yet.
From her spot in the hallway, Olivia watched Richard in the living room. Her husband was still unaware that she knew what he’d done, and she worried she wouldn’t have time to fix his mistake. For their children, she owed him that, at least.
