“Well, they probably belong to the last owners. But like I told you on the phone the other day, I can’t give you their information. Sorry.”

  “Stan and Anita Desmond, Arlington Mills.” I sit back, crossing my arms. “Nice couple.”

  Benton’s mouth falls open. “You⁠—”

  “Found them? Yeah. Beautiful house. Lovely neighborhood. And they’ve never seen these photos before, because as noted in the serial codes on the backs, they were all taken within the last seven years. And, as you know, the Desmonds moved away from Lonerock sixteen years ago.”

  Benton brings his hands together, wordlessly. I can see his mind working. He knows I’ve caught him out on at least one lie, and it may well cause the others to crumble.

  “Yes, well, the Desmonds and I have been working closely for some time to⁠—”

  “Benton, you told me the house was only empty for a few years!”

  Benton nods. “Well, it was.”

  I scoff in disbelief before tapping my imaginary broken watch, trying to fix it.

  “Okay, so we disagree on how many a few is,” Benton concedes with a smirk. “But it was on the market for less than a year when you bought it.”

  “Because after Stan and Anita told you they wanted to sell, you strung them along, lying to them for another ten years!”

  Benton’s smile falters for a split second before his mask slips back into place. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Miss Blake. I assure you, I have never lied to any of my clients.”

  I think my last nerve must be located in my forehead, because it’s now ticking.

  “Don’t bother lying. I know you manipulated that sweet couple to keep their house from selling. And since you have a reputation in this town for a fast turnover, I can only imagine it had something to do with you wanting that house empty. And why exactly was that, Benton?” I seethe, looking pointedly at the photos.

  Benton sighs and leans forward, resting his arms on the desk. “Ruby, I’ll level with you. That house had a lot of issues that needed seeing to, a lot of red tape, a lot of road blocks, most of which were out of my hands. Could I have pushed to speed the process up? Probably. But I always try to get the best price possible for my clients. And in the end, it was an outdated house and the Desmonds benefited from waiting until the rest of the street caught up with the modern world before selling.”

  He seems to have an answer for everything.

  “The photos. They were put there while you had the keys. How do you explain that?” I tap them again now.

  Benton sighs and picks them up again. “Well, I guess it’s possible that one of the contractors or cleaners who came in over that time left them there. They’re just photos though. Are they important in some way?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I think it’s very strange that the house was left empty for years, and yet these photos ended up hidden there.”

  “That is weird. But you know, I’ve found stranger things in old houses, believe you me.” He grins suggestively. “If walls could talk, huh?”

  I don’t buy this act for a second. Because the walls in my house are talking. And they’re screaming Benton Shepherd’s name.

  23

  RUBY

  It’s three days into the new year and for me, Christmas came and went in a blur of sanding, staining and painting Cameron’s bedroom, all the while firmly pressing down the empty feelings that come from spending the holidays alone.

  Justin turned up at my door on Christmas Eve with a bottle of wine and a new light fixture for Cameron’s room, telling me that his rule is to never leave my house before fixing something up or helping out in some way first. He’d stayed for a few hours before we eventually untangled ourselves and he left to return to Xavier and his parents, who he had staying with him over the holidays.

  Every phone call I’ve had with Mory or Cameron recently has been so short that I’m starting to feel as though I’m forgetting their voices. There’s always something more exciting to see and do than talk with their mom on the phone. At least Mory seems to be feeling a little better about being away from Hutch. I’m sure when she returns, it’ll be him that she’s most excited to see, not me. But I’m long used to playing second fiddle in my kids’ life, and as long as my babies are home with me, I’ll be happy.

  With so much spare time on my hands recently and a keen determination not to spend it on self-reflection out of fear of getting to better know myself (Justin and I really do make a great couple), I’ve been spending an uncharacteristic amount of time online. Namely, looking for answers about who those girls are. I started by cross referencing the names ‘Jessie,’ ‘Sandra’ and ‘Erica’ with ‘Lonerock’ and when that came up with nothing promising, I expanded my search to a wider area. Then, finding myself no closer to identifying them—and following an instinct which has been slowly gnawing away at me—I eventually started searching for missing persons who share their first names. But without last names or any other details about these women, I’ve yet to find any matches online.

  I realize I’ve become obsessive about this, and when Justin suggested that I should drop it for my own wellbeing I half-heartedly promised that I’d try. But within twelve hours I was back online again, searching.

  I’ve considered bringing it to the cops, but what would I say? Hi, here are some photos of three really happy girls. How soon can you set up an investigation room?

  But I don’t even see their smiles anymore. In fact, when I place my finger over the lower half of their faces, all I see is terror in their eyes.

  I’m starting to realize I may never know who these girls are or how their photos ended up in my home. All that my conversation with Benton Shepherd did was confirm to me that he’s about as trustworthy as a small child with a permanent marker. The man lies like the rest of us breathe. And if I’m right about my suspicions and he is lying about those photos, there’s only one reason: to protect himself.

  But then the question remains, why would he have left those photos in the house if he was going to sell it to me? If he wanted to keep them hidden, surely he would have taken them out before giving me the keys? Benton may be many things, but stupid isn’t one of them.

  None of this adds up.

  I find myself yet again pondering on this never-ending circle of unanswered questions as I take my trash outside. I step onto the driveway and feel the crisp January air against my skin. A lot of people in the neighborhood have already taken down their Christmas decorations, which I’m grateful for since every twinkling light is another reminder of a holiday I no longer get to celebrate with my kids.

  As I haul the black sack into the trash cart I spot Bernice—my sociably challenged neighbor—making her way down her driveway toward me, and I can already sense trouble brewing. She comes to a stop, a scowl on her wrinkled face as she stares my way. I can feel her eyes boring into me and I’m reminded again that this will be my life here, forever, until the old cow finally drops dead one day.

  “Good morning, Bernice,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral.

  She ignores my greeting, her face twisting into a frown. “I want you to know that I’m going to be bringing a list with me next week, to the meeting. I’ll be raising my concerns there.”

  “What meeting?” I put a hand on one hip.

  “The Residents’ Biannual Safety Forum,” she snaps, then shoves a piece of paper my way. “This is a copy of my list.”

  I scan the words and feel my anger rise. “For God’s sake, Bernice, you can’t be serious.”

  She scoffs. “As a heart attack, lady.”

  I take a deep breath, trying to keep my frustration in check, and glare at her retreating back as she shuffles away, muttering curses under her breath.

  I look down at the piece of paper in my hand. There are fifteen infractions listed, all in relation to my household. From kids playing too loudly in the garden to men showing up in the late hours of night and even dates and times listed. The whole thing is ridiculous.

  I shake my head. Living next door to Bernice has been a nightmare. I’m so tired of constantly tiptoeing around her. I guess I don’t have much choice but to try to find out when and where this meeting will be, so I can go along to defend myself when she pulls out this stupid list.

  I hear a car horn beep twice behind me and look back to see Felicity and Quinten pulling up, their car window rolling down.

  “Ruby!” Felicity leans over her husband to call out.

  “Hi,” I say, making my way to them.

  “We just wanted to stop and say Happy New Year!” Felicity coos. “How are you doing, all alone over here?”

  “Great, thanks.” I swallow down a less kind response.

  A woman like Felicity, with her handsome husband and two perfect sons, probably can’t comprehend why such phrasing might cause upset, but I can’t hold it against her that her life worked out perfectly and mine didn’t.

  Quinten leans an arm on the side of his window. “So, when are the kids home? Hutch is about to go crazy waiting on Mory to come back.”

  Felicity echoes this. “Oh, Ruby, you should hear the boy talking about her. It’s love, I’m sure!”

  I laugh. “That’s sweet. They’re back on Friday, so I’m sure she’ll call over during the weekend. Cameron will be excited to see Leo, too.”

  “It’s so nice to have new neighbors with kids the same age range as ours,” Felicity says. “Hutch was just a baby when we moved here, and the kids on the street were all older. And now that he’s grown up, it’s all babies and toddlers on the street. All Kendra and Harriet talk about are diapers and playgroups, while I’m here worrying about driving licenses and college applications!”

  I don’t want to ignore Felicity’s ramblings, but it suddenly comes to me that the Parkers might know something about this meeting Bernice was talking about. “Hey, do either of you know anything about the upcoming residents’ meeting?”

  Quinten nods. “Sure, the Biannual Safety Forum. It’s kind of a mix between a neighborhood watch meeting and a friendly get-together. It’s held at Lonerock Community Hall.”

  Felicity leans forward in her seat again. “Aren’t you on the community text chain? There was a message sent out the other day with all the information.”

  “I’m on the text chain, but I didn’t get any message about a meeting,” I say, confused.

  “Strange, Benton usually sends them out to everybody,” Felicity muses. “Well, anyway, it’s at seven o’clock, Monday night. Maybe we’ll see you there.”

  Felicity and Quinten wave goodbye and drive off, leaving me with my mind quickly connecting the dots.

  Benton, who lives close by on Abbey Street, is in charge of the text thread for our community. I know I’m on it because I’ve already gotten several texts about missing pets and weather alerts since I moved here. But for some reason I didn’t get the text about the meeting. It’s almost as though Benton doesn’t want me there after I confronted him about the photos a couple of weeks back. Like he’s afraid I might come along and start asking more questions.

  Well sorry, Benton, but I’m going to be at that meeting. And you can bet your ass I’ll be bringing the photos along with me.

  24

  MORY

  I never thought I’d say it, but it’s actually kind of good to be back home in Lonerock.

  Dad dropped me and Cameron at the airport this morning. I know for a fact that he had his tracker app for my phone running because he texted me about two minutes after we got into Mom’s car, saying he was glad we got home safe and that he missed us already.

  The only thing is, I was kind of expecting Mom to have made more progress on the house, but when we got there and I stepped inside I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying anything that might upset her. The place is no better than when we left. There’s stuff everywhere. It’s like she started a bunch of projects and just gave up halfway through. Most of the walls are still coated in the same gross, peeling wallpaper, and other than a couple of changes in the kitchen, there’s not much sign of any new additions or improvements.

  To add to that, there’s a weariness in my mom’s eyes that I can’t ignore.

  “I thought you were going to make the house look good?” Cameron blurts out.

  I shove him hard in the back. “Shut up, Cam! She is. It just takes time.”

  Mom gives me a stern look for pushing my brother, then her eyes soften. “It’s okay, Mory. And yes, Cameron, I know it doesn’t look very good yet but go upstairs and look at your bedroom.”

  Cameron’s eyes light up and he practically falls over himself in his haste to get up the stairs. Ten seconds later we hear a shout of “Woah, cool!” coming from his room and Mom laughs.

  “Before you ask, I haven’t gotten around to your room, yet, sorry,” she says.

  “That’s fine,” I say.

  There are bags under Mom’s eyes and I’m starting to wonder if there’s something wrong, other than having spent Christmas alone.

  “So, tell me everything!” Her enthusiasm seems forced. “What did you guys get up to over the holidays?”

  I tell her about the raffle I entered at the Christmas fair and how I won a huge stuffed reindeer and about Cameron’s new obsession with Mario Cart, and the caroling trip that Caitlyn dragged us all along on (which actually turned out to be kind of fun), and a few other funny things that happened while we were there. I intentionally leave out one very important detail of our time there, because Mom really doesn’t look like she needs to hear about it right this minute.

  “If it’s okay, Mom, I’m going to go see Hutch,” I say, one foot practically out the door already.

  “Wow, you lasted all of ten minutes here, I’m impressed.” She laughs before holding out her arm, gesturing for me to leave.

  Twenty minutes later, I walk down the path leading away from the road, and the sound of vehicles fades away, replaced by the gentle rushing of the waterfall. The air is crisp and cold, and I pull my coat tighter around me as I emerge from the trees into a clearing. My breath catches at the beautiful sight before me. Water cascades down the rocks, glistening in the sunlight. The surrounding area is covered in a thin layer of frost and a light mist hangs in the air, making the whole place look like it’s right out of a fairy tale.

  He’s already waiting for me and I run up to him full force, a grin on my face. He catches me and spins me around. I bury my face into his blond hair and when I finally let go and he places me down, I can feel the waterfall spray on my face, the cold water droplets tingling on my skin.

  “I missed you,” he says, kissing both of my hands in turn.

  “Not as much as I missed you.” I laugh.

  We sit down together and catch each other up on everything that’s happened in the three weeks we’ve been apart. The smell of damp earth and fresh water fills the air while we sit, watching each other’s eyes light up as we joke and laugh and have fun just being with each other. I could spend all day here with him. But unfortunately, it soon comes to an end when we both have to leave to go home to our families.

  Back home, Mom is putting a huge pot of mac and cheese out on the table, which she knows is both mine and Cameron’s favorite.

  When I sit down and begin piling my plate up, she leans closer to me. “How’d it go with Hutch?”

  I suppress a grin. “Fine, Mom. We just talked for a while.”

  “Good.” She smiles. “You know I have it on good authority that you can expect to be asked out on an official date next month.”

  “Next month?” I ask, confused.

  “When you turn seventeen.” Mom nods.

  “Oh,” I say, understanding now.

  I guess Hutch must have shared with his folks that he’s interested in me as more than just a friend. I doubt that was a shocker, with the amount of time we spend together. But the idea of Hutch and I going out to dinner or a movie alone together seems kind of weird now.

  “Mom, guess what?” Cameron says, mouth full of cheesy pasta.

  “What?”

  I kick Cameron under the table and give him shut up eyes.

  “Ow! Mom! Mory kicked me!” he wails.

  “You were talking with your mouth full.” I glare at him. “And I think you should shut up.”

  Mom stares from me to Cameron and back. “What’s going on?”

  “She doesn’t want me to tell you about Dad and Caitlyn,” he says.

  “God, Cameron, you are such a brat!” I kick him again.

  “Mory! Stop it. What are you guys talking about?” Mom demands.

  I put my head down and scoop another forkful of food into my mouth. I guess she’s going to find out sooner or later anyway, I just didn’t want anything stressing her out even more right now.

  “They’re having a baby,” Cameron says. “We’re gonna have a little sister.”

  In the three seconds following Cameron’s words, I see Mom’s eyes glaze over and her face form an expression I don’t recognize. Then just as fast, she jumps up from her seat, a painfully big smile on her face.

  “Congratulations, guys!” She hugs Cameron tightly and then me. “A new sibling. That’s just wonderful news. I’m so happy for you both!”

  But I don’t think she is, really.

  I search her eyes as she sits back down. Despite the grin pinned firmly on her face as she listens to Cameron talk on and on about what he’s going to do with a baby sister, all I see is pain in her eyes. It’s like the photos of the women she showed me before. Her face is split into two parts. On the bottom, her lips turn upwards, happy. But on the top, it looks as though she’s being tortured.

  25

  RUBY

  I pull into the parking lot of Lonerock Community Hall, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as I search for a spot among the throng of cars already here. The sun has set and in the orange glow of the parking lot lights I can see people milling about, their voices carrying through the air. I finally find a spot and turn off the engine, then sit back, rigid in my seat.