Page 77 of Such a Quiet Place
Someone who knew where the cameras were and how to avoid them.
A girl who had been to my workplace in the spring for a college interview—that mug staring back at her from across the room: HELLO THERE! Something she’d used to taunt me with instead.
But the timing of the notes—I couldn’t figure out what had set them off. The first one—YOU MADE A MISTAKE—had arrived the evening when we’d been at the clubhouse meeting, all of us signing up for the neighborhood watch. The second—WE KNOW—had arrived the night I’d been on watch myself, boldly placed inside my house.
As the day was drifting to evening with no response, I grabbed that photo and stalked two doors down to Charlotte’s house.
The Brocks’ security camera was pointed at the walkway over the sidewalk. I strode up that way so they would see me coming. I rang the bell and saw a flicker of movement behind the window. Someone looking out. But no one came to the door.
I pounded on the door with the side of my fist until it abruptly flew open, Molly’s long hair swaying into view. “What?” she said, somehow managing to walk the line between whispering and yelling. The same expression she’d given me last week when I’d come looking for her mother before the clubhouse meeting. Full of suspicion and fear.
“Where’s your mom?” I asked. The house behind her was still, the lights dimmed. Like she had been pretending not to be home.
“Not here,” she said, face stoic, starting to close the door once more.
“Wait,” I said, placing my foot in the gap between us, propping the door open. Because I thought I finally understood what had kicked off the arrival of those messages.
It was me.
Me, standing in this doorway, telling Molly that Ruby had not been proven guilty.
And Molly insisting that she was.
I saw her expression again—the distrust and uncertainty. Not of Ruby, so close to her house. But of me knowing something. Of me marching up her porch that day, looking to talk to Charlotte. Me implying that Ruby might’ve been innocent.
And Ruby couldn’t be innocent. If she was, it meant that someone else was guilty.
HELLO THERE! the last message had declared. From someone who had been inside my office. Preston, I’d thought at first. As a member of campus security, he’d have access to the buildings and to my office.
When I marched over here, I was thinking of Whitney. Whitney, who had applied for admission and would’ve had the opportunity to see into my office. Who might’ve noticed that mug with the bold text.
But Whitney had been interviewed by someone down the hall. It was Charlotte and Molly who’d sat with me, waiting.
“I’m actually here to talk to you, Molly.” I took the photo from my back pocket, held it out to her, watched her eyes widen, her throat move. “I’m happy to have this conversation right here, if you’d like.” I stepped back to the edge of the porch, where I knew the camera feed would pick up our conversation.
Molly let the door swing open, stepping back into her house.
Their house appeared perfect inside, like always. The counters cleaned, dishes put away. But I was starting to see the cracks in the facade. The things that had gotten away from them. The door of the cabinet under the sink, off its top hinge. The family photos that hung from the walls, that hadn’t been changed—Bob standing beside Charlotte, the girls barely up to their shoulders. As if theystill existed like this. As if Charlotte never wanted to acknowledge the truth.
I slapped the photo down on the island between us. “Hello there,” I said. “Want to tell me why you keep leaving this for me?”
Molly swallowed, hand to the base of her neck. “Looks to me like you’re doing something illegal,” she said, but her voice was soft, and she looked behind her, like she was afraid. I could tell I’d surprised her, caught her off guard. That she had never expected someone here to be so direct.
“Oh, but I’m not,” I said. “And Margo… What are you doing, Molly? Why are you threatening us? What do you think they’ll say when they find out it’s you?”
“You all act like such good people,” she said, crossing her arms. “But I see you all. I see what you do.”
“This is blackmail,” I said, even though she didn’t say what she wanted in return.
“It’s just what I see,” she said with a shrug. She gave me a sly grin. “Did you know Mr. Wellman once left their baby in the car?”
The room hollowed out; a pit formed at the base of my stomach. “Yes, Molly. I did. And I know you did nothing to help.”
She frowned. “He’s not a good parent. He got distracted by a phone call when he pulled into the driveway, left that kid in the car when he went inside. But Mrs. Wellman, she had a fit. An absolutefit.” She shook her head. “It’s not safe to do things like that.”
Like Tate said, such a small thing could ruin your life.
But Molly wasn’t some innocent bystander. “And you just left him there. You didn’t think to knock on the door? To tell them?”
