I storm off in the direction of my house, shaken by the ignorance of women who are old enough to know better than to jump to conclusions. Inside, I shut the front door behind me, my head spinning.

  “Mom!” Mory is running down the stairs, panicked. “Mrs. Fisher is dead!”

  “I know.” I grab her and hug her tightly, then pull away to look at her. “But… who told you?”

  “Hutch,” she says, holding up her phone. “He said that she was killed!”

  “We don’t know that for sure yet.” I try to calm her down. “Let’s just wait for the police to do their job before we start adding to the rumors.”

  Mory lowers her voice. “Hutch says his mom thinks Justin killed her. And that he killed his wife years ago, too.”

  I sigh. “Sweetie, there’s no truth to that. Trust me, Justin is a great guy. I wouldn’t let him into our lives if I thought for a second that any of that was true.”

  “I know,” Mory says without conviction. “Can I go over to Hutch’s house?”

  I can see she’s seeking comfort and since she doesn’t seem to be getting it from me, I agree to her request and try to busy myself by returning to preparing vegetables as I had been before this whole afternoon went haywire.

  But as I stand at the counter peeling potatoes, I can’t get the image out my head of Bernice lying dead in her kitchen for the past two weeks, while we’ve all just been living our lives as normal.

  That woman was spiteful and mean, but that doesn’t take away from how horrible it is for her death to have gone undetected for so long. That nobody cared enough for her to notice her absence and check in on her. I wonder who the police will be looking at, as a suspect in her death? I cast my mind back to the meeting two weeks ago, the last night she was seen. She ruffled a lot of feathers that night, mine included. But one face pops into my head now. Benton. Might he have had motive to kill Bernice? There’s a lot I don’t trust about that man, but could he really be capable of murder? I already suspect that he knows more about the girls in the photos than he let on to me, so if my instincts are right, and he did something to those girls, I suppose it’s plausible that he could have killed Bernice, too.

  But unfortunately, Benton is not the one who people will point the finger at for Bernice’s death. Justin will be.

  Bernice was vocal at the meeting about her belief that Justin was guilty of killing his wife, and even pointed him out as being responsible for leaving the photos of the girls hidden in my house—claiming to have seen him coming and going over the years. But… that can’t be true. Justin didn’t recognize those photos when I showed him them. And he told me that his wife, Elle, had taken her own life after a short but devastating battle with postpartum depression.

  I haven’t broached the subject with him since he first told me because it’s obviously a very painful part of his life that he’d rather not speak about. But I do remember wondering, right after the meeting, why it seemed that everyone—and not just crazy old Bernice—had been wary of Justin. The looks, the whispers. I might have asked him more about it had I not been so distracted over the last two weeks. The news of my children’s impending new sibling, the house renovations, and Mory’s upcoming seventeenth birthday have all been keeping my mind busy. I’ve not even had time to dwell on the photos of the girls. It seems like that chapter closed for me the night I left the meeting, my questions unanswered.

  But now that the neighborhood gossip train has taken off yet again, this time accusing Justin of murdering Bernice, I’m starting to wonder if it’s possible there’s some piece of information about the death of Justin’s wife that I’m missing. I mean, as sad as it is, hundreds of people take their own lives every single day. And unless there’s great evidence to the contrary, their loved ones don’t just get accused of having been the one to kill them.

  My mind suddenly in overdrive, I slide my phone out of my pocket before I can stop myself. I pull up Google and type Elle Thomas Lonerock into the search bar. If there was anything more to her death than what Justin told me, surely there must be something about it online.

  I take a deep breath and press the search button, then watch in horror as headline after headline pops up on my screen.

  28

  MORY

  Hutch and I sit next to each other at his kitchen island, my head resting against his shoulder.

  “I can’t believe Bernice is dead,” I mutter. “It’s so crazy. I mean, who do you think would want to kill her?”

  Hutch shrugs. “Everyone?”

  I lift my head and narrow my eyes at him. “That’s not funny, Hutch!”

  “It wasn’t meant to be. And I’m not trying to be mean, but everyone hated that woman. I don’t think anyone will care that she’s gone.”

  This strikes me as just about the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. But I met Bernice a couple of times, and Hutch’s statement tracks. And even though I know my mom would never admit it, I bet she’s just a little relieved to never have to deal with Bernice’s complaints about her again.

  It’s the first time Hutch and I have been alone at his house. His dad is at work and his mom has gone out for the afternoon with Leo, so he invited me to come over and keep him company.

  “So, do you think it’ll be weird for you, getting a new baby sister?” Hutch asks me.

  I think about this. It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact my dad is starting a whole new family without me and Cameron. I mean, of course we’re part of that family but Dad and Caitlyn will be spending all their time with the baby, and only summers and Christmas with us. Up until now, from the second me and Cameron arrive at his house to the second we leave, it’s all about us. But I don’t think that will be possible anymore once the baby arrives. Caitlyn will be busy looking after the baby, and my dad probably won’t have as much energy as usual. I guess there wasn’t much chance it was going to stay the same forever.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “It’s kind of cool. But I’ll be seventeen when the baby is born, and once she’s my age I’ll be like, really old.”

  “I guess,” Hutch says. “Hey, speaking of you turning seventeen… I was wondering if you wanted to go out on your birthday. I can borrow my dad’s car and we could catch dinner somewhere, maybe see a movie?”

  “Your mom made you wait to ask me out, didn’t she?”

  “Yup.”

  I think it’s sweet that Hutch still follows his mom’s rules at eighteen. He’s a really great guy. We’ve been hanging out at his house for so long now that it would feel kind of weird to go on an actual date. But I think it’s important to him that I say yes.

  “I think that would be fun, thanks.” I smile.

  He’s looking at me with that warm gaze that makes me remember how cute he is.

  He’s always been so respectful of the fact I’m only sixteen and he’s eighteen. Most guys wouldn’t care. I mean, I don’t even care—what difference does it make if I’m sixteen years and eleven months old or seventeen? What magically happens between those two times that makes it more appropriate for us to date?

  But Hutch is a guy who follows the rules, and I know he’d never push any boundaries or make me feel uncomfortable in any way. That’s just the kind of guy he is. It’s sweet and endearing, and it only makes me like him even more.

  Hutch suggests he make us some food, and I watch as he rummages through his fridge, pulling out various ingredients to make sandwiches. His messy blond hair falls into his eyes as he focuses on the task and I can’t help but smile at how adorable he looks, even when he’s just making us lunch. As he spreads mayonnaise on the bread, I lean against the counter and stare at a photo stuck to the fridge door.

  “Is that you and your grandmother?” I ask, pointing to the picture.

  Hutch looks up, his eyes softening as he nods. “Yeah, that’s me and Nana at Disneyworld. She passed away when I was a kid.”

  I can hear the sadness in his voice. “It looks like you two were close.”

  “We were.” He keeps his focus on the sandwiches. “Leo’s too small to remember her, but she used to take me everywhere. On vacation, to the theatre, to bingo nights.”

  I laugh at this. “You liked going to bingo nights?”

  “I liked going with Nana,” he says, meaningfully.

  “Sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

  He puts a plate down in front of me and I thank him before taking a bite of the sandwich.

  Hutch nods, his eyes avoiding mine. “She was. You know, nothing’s been the same since she’s been gone. She was like the glue that held my family together.”

  I don’t get what he means by this. Hutch’s family is perfect. Like a TV family, where everyone always looks amazing and their house is stupidly big.

  “It always seems to me like you’ve got the kind of family everyone wishes they had,” I say.

  “Yeah.” Hutch looks down at his hands. “My mom works really hard to make sure of that. She even sets up these family photoshoots once a year with a photographer. Smiling and happy. But that’s not how it really is at home. My parents fight all the time. My dad works so much and my mom blames him for everything that ever goes wrong. She tries to make things seem perfect on the outside, but it’s not.”

  “At least your parents are still together,” I point out.

  “Is that such a great thing?” he asks.

  I have to stop and think about this. “I don’t know. I mean, when my mom and dad split, my dad got a new girlfriend straight away. That was kind of weird. Although, I’m used to her now. But now my mom is suddenly dating again. And there’s all these rumors the guy killed his last wife…”

  “Do you believe it?” Hutch asks, taking a bite of his sandwich.

  “No way.” I shake my head. “He’s a good guy. He’s been helping my mom out with the house, and he’s got a kid the same age as Cameron.”

  “You ever heard of Ted Bundy?” A sly smile touches his lips.

  “Yeah, but didn’t he stalk and kill random women? Not just his wife and an old lady everyone hated.”

  Hutch shrugs. “My point is that even a guy like Justin, who looks like a nice family kind of guy on the outside, could secretly be a psycho murderer.”

  I’m suddenly turned off my sandwich. “I don’t think Justin is like that. Plus, my mom said his wife wasn’t killed, she was depressed and ended her own life.”

  “Well, nobody really knows, do they?” he says.

  His tone catches my attention. “What do you mean?”

  Hutch pushes his plate aside and leans in closer to me, his voice low. “What I mean is, how could anybody know what really happened to her, if they never found her body?”

  29

  RUBY

  Lonerock Woman Missing.

  Search Launched For Missing Lonerock Woman.

  Lonerock Woman Missing For Seven Years Declared Dead.

  I scroll down through the search results that span back over eight years. Article after article, each one a fragment of a story that slowly begins to form a clearer picture as I read through them, leaving me with an ice-cold pit of dread deep in my chest.

  I pull up three tabs on my screen, each one a local news article from years past, and work my way from oldest to newest.

  The first is from eight years ago.

  Authorities have launched a search for Elle Thomas, a wife and mother from the Lonerock community who was last heard from on the evening of July 17th, when she was on her way to meet her husband, Justin Thomas, for dinner. Justin became worried when Elle never arrived and reported her missing to the authorities when efforts to reach her by phone went unanswered. Elle’s car was later found abandoned on Springdale Road near a river. Friends and family of Mrs. Thomas are urging anyone with information on her whereabouts to come forward and help bring her home safely.

  Justin never told me that his wife went missing. In fact, he never told me how his wife even died. He just said she took her own life, and I felt it would be stepping over the line to ask how she did it.

  I read on, but the next article is even more concerning.

  Six months have passed since Elle Thomas, a beloved member of the Lonerock community, went missing. The young wife and mother was last heard from on the evening of July 17th, on her way to meet her husband, Justin Thomas. However, she never made it to her destination and was reported missing the same day. For weeks, officials led a ground and water search spanning several miles around where her vehicle was found, which turned up no clues to her whereabouts. Authorities had been working under the information that Mrs. Thomas was suffering from depression following the birth of her first child and may have been having thoughts of self-harm. But it seems they are now shifting their focus to her husband’s potential involvement in the disappearance, since it was reported that Elle and Justin had been fighting earlier that day.

  Justin was investigated in Elle’s disappearance. They thought he killed her. Why didn’t he tell me this? It explains why everyone in Lonerock seems to hate him. Not only do they think he murdered his wife, they think he disposed of her body, too.

  My heart thudding in my chest, I switch to the third article. It’s startlingly recent—from only months before I moved to Lonerock.

  The small town of Lonerock is in mourning after the decision was made to declare missing local woman, Elle Thomas, legally dead seven years after her mysterious disappearance. Elle’s husband, Justin Thomas, filed for the declaration after the minimum seven years had passed with no new leads on her whereabouts. Authorities investigating her disappearance over the years initially focused on Justin as a potential suspect. However, after an extensive investigation there was no evidence to link him with any involvement. Elle’s car was found abandoned on Springdale Road, near the river, prompting authorities to conclude the new mother may have taken her own life as it had been known she was suffering from postpartum depression since the birth of her first child just months previously.

  It’s a good thing I’m sitting down already, or else I might just crumple to the floor. Who is this man that I let into my house? Into my bed.

  Justin lied to me.

  Well… I guess he didn’t exactly lie, but when he told me that his wife had taken her own life, I presumed she had died from an overdose or some other tragic self-infliction. I didn’t pry any further, because I knew it was a deeply painful subject for him. He never once offered up the information that his wife had gone missing, never to be seen again. And he definitely didn’t share that there was a police investigation into his involvement.

  It seems suspicious to me that a husband would be so quick to conclude his wife had taken her own life, when there’s a possibility she may have been kidnapped or killed by somebody. I guess the police thought that too.

  Everything is suddenly beginning to add up.

  The whole community is scared of him; he seems to have no friends here. And there I was, new to town, just months after his wife was legally declared dead—a newcomer who didn’t know the truth. Fresh pickings. Did he really think I wouldn’t find out that he was once a suspect in his wife’s disappearance?

  Then a dark thought runs through my mind. If Justin had something to do with Elle vanishing, it really is possible he had something to do with the photos I found.

  Bernice stood up at that meeting and pointed him out as being the one to have come and gone from this house before I moved in. I thought the old bat just had it in for him, but now I’m starting to wonder. Did Justin kill those girls like he did his wife?

  Before I can think my reaction through, I’m grabbing my keys and running out the front door. Bernice’s house is still cordoned off with various official vehicles parked outside, but the crowd has since dispersed and I spot Cameron playing ball alone in our front yard.

  “Get in the car,” I shout, sitting in and buckling my belt.

  “What? Am I in trouble?” He sits in the passenger seat, still holding the ball.

  “No, sweetie, sorry if it sounded like you were. I just have to go see Justin, and I can’t leave you alone here while Mory is at Hutch’s house.”

  Cameron’s eyes light up. “Cool! I’ve never seen Xavier’s house before. He said he has a full-size basketball stand.”

  I’ve never been to their house, either, now that I think of it. Justin and I have been seeing each other for months, but he always comes to mine. It just makes sense, because of the work he’s been doing here. But now I’m wondering if there’s a reason he’s never invited me over to his place. He kept the truth behind his wife’s death from me, so I’m starting to question everything else he’s ever told me about himself. Which is shockingly little. But I do know his address, since it was on a package of electrical fuses he once brought over after ordering it for me.

  My fingers grip the steering wheel tightly as I navigate the winding roads leading east of Lonerock. I’ve not been out here before and the area is unfamiliar to me. As we get further from town, passing houses becomes less and less frequent, and the trees seem to close in on the road. I make the turn to his house and find myself driving down a long gravel driveway. A small pond to the left glistens in the hazy afternoon sunlight, and tall trees surround a vast area of land.

  “This place is cool,” Cameron remarks. “Is this where Xavier and his dad live?”

  “I… I’m not sure,” I mumble, confused.

  It’s not possible all this could be Justin’s land… is it?

  But a glance at the map on my phone tells me I’m on the right path. And fifteen seconds later as I pull to a stop, I have my suspicions confirmed that there’s a lot I don’t know about the man I’ve been seeing.

  Because that cozy little house that he told me he built with Elle all those years ago—the house that he lay the foundations for and hung the shutters on while Elle painted the bedrooms—is not a house at all.

  30

  RUBY