Page 22 of The Last House Guest
“Change your name,” I said.
Her name carried weight. But she didn’t throw it around. She didn’t have to.
It occurred to me that as long as I was with her, I might be afforded that same protection.
HER NAME STILL CARRIEDthat weight, with her phone on the detective’s desk, that he still wouldn’t touch. Dead or not, there were things you had to be careful with around here. He picked up his office phone but hesitated first.
“I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” Detective Collins finally said before waving me out of the room.
“What? What way?”
He shook his head. “Her note. That’s what it said.”
CHAPTER 10
I’m sorry. I wishit didn’t have to be this way.
I slammed on my brakes in the middle of Harbor Drive just as a woman stepped out into the crosswalk without looking. She stood in front of my car, staring back through the windshield. My hands were shaking on the wheel. There were mere inches separating us.
In the rearview mirror, I could still see the police station perched at the top of the hill. The woman in front of me raised her hand like a barrier between her and my car, mouthedWatch it,before moving on. As if I hadn’t noticed how close I’d come. As if she hadn’t yet processed how closeshehad come.
I saw Sadie then, standing at the edge of the cliffs. The blue dress blowing behind her in the wind, a strap sliding down her shoulder, the mascara running under her eyes, her hands shaking. Saw her turn around and look at me this time, her eyes wide—
Stop.
I HAD TO CALLsomeone.
Not the detective, who had just stared at her phone with such disbelief. Not Parker, who hadn’t told me he’d just retrieved Sadie’s personal items from the police. Not Connor, who had kept things from all of us with his silence—
My phone rang just as I was working it through. Another number not in my contacts. I wondered if it was Detective Collins already, telling me to come back. That they’d discovered something else in her phone, or they needed my help to tell them what something meant. I placed the call on speaker.
“Is this Avery?” It was a girl. A woman. Something in between.
“Yes, who’s speaking?”
“Erica Hopkins. From lunch.”
“Right, hi.”
She cleared her throat. “Justine wanted me to check in. We’ll need the piece for Sadie tomorrow—by afternoon at the latest.”
Yesterday felt like forever ago. “I can email you the piece tonight, but the photo will probably be a physical copy. I don’t have access to a scanner.” I would not contact Grant or Bianca to ask for a high-resolution image of their deceased daughter, though it would have to be one of theirs, something that once graced the walls of the Breakers. In truth, I could think of nothing more fitting.
“We’ve got a meeting at the dedication site with Parker Loman tomorrow around eleven. Right at the entrance of Breaker Beach. Want to meet us there with the photo?”
Somewhere in that house were Sadie Loman’s personal items, just returned to Parker from the police station. Parker had said he’d be working from home today, and I could see the lights from the upstairs office from their drive.
Tomorrow, around eleven, he would be out. The house would be empty.
“Why don’t you stop by after,” I said, edging the car to the other side of the garage. “I’ll meet you at their guesthouse. Just send me a text to let me know when you’re on your way up.”
Inside their house was that journal, given back to Parker. The item they used to determine the presumed last words of Sadie Loman. The thing they rested their case on.
And I needed to see it.
Something had worked its way inside, dark and sinuous. Like I had just set something in motion that I now had no power to stop.
BACK INSIDE THE BEDROOMof the guesthouse, I opened the closet door, pulling out the single box that had never been unpacked—markedKforKeep,in Sadie’s handwriting. The rest I had steadily unpacked with time, the few things of my own worth bringing. But this was the box that held my parents’ things, my grandmother’s things.
