grinned, though it was a smile tinged by sorrow.
An unexpected chill breathed across Sarah’s neck. Except for his temporary misadventures in English class—in which she tutored him—Nick was always brilliant, astute when it came to people. His initial hunch might have fizzled, and Sarah might just be allowing herself to be drawn into the drama, but she had always trusted his judgment.
Emma touched her arm. “Sis?”
Sarah allowed the warmth of that delicate hand to seep into her skin. “Yes.”
“What’s going on in your head? You look freaked.”
“We need to go back to Sikeston. Today.”
Emma jerked her hand away. “I didn’t come all the way over here just to turn around and go back. I want to help—”
“How? It’s sounding more and more as if someone intentionally killed our loved ones—there’s probably someone in Jolly Mill we can’t trust.”
“Don’t you want to see Edward again?”
“Of course I do.” Part of her, however, felt desperate enough to want to take Emma right now and skip town before things could get out of hand completely, or before Emma impulsively stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.
“We need to spend some time with him, Sarah, not just say hi and bye. He was one of Dad’s best friends. Nick said Gerard is keeping watch from his place above town, where he has a clear view of all movement here in the valley, and besides, if we don’t go see Carmen while we’re this close she’ll never forgive us. You want that on your conscience?”
What Sarah wanted was for her daughter to be safe. Yes, she wanted justice, but what were a rebellious teenager and a kindergarten teacher—who had, admittedly, been well taught by her policeman cousin to shoot a target—going to do to help catch killers? Another thing she didn’t want was an emotional revelation that could have unbearable consequences—couldn’t it?
“Well?” Emma demanded. “Do you?”
“We can see Carmen on our way out of town.”
Emma crossed her arms again, her full lower lip jutting out in the tiny pout she often used to try to get her way—though she seldom succeeded, except with Sarah. “I’m staying.”
This was not going well.
* * *
Nick scrubbed at his hair with the towel until both were equally damp and wondered if the friction of his movements might have scorched the terry cloth. He had blades to sharpen, lawns to mow and clients to placate, but right now all he wanted to do was pull on his clothes, go downstairs and wait for Sarah—she might even be here already. Was that the door chime he’d heard a few minutes ago while the shower was pounding his head, or was he imagining that? She’d sounded pretty wiped out last night, so she might have slept in this morning.
He flicked the towel over the bar, trying to breathe through the steamy air and thinking about last night’s events. Emma was a good kid, as much as he could tell from a couple of hours of talk before they all retired. Immature, but what sixteen-year-old wasn’t? She was a worker, that much he knew. He’d put her to work helping him load the pickup and trailer with his lawn-care equipment before Dad got home last night, and she’d volunteered to help him mow and trim today. Of course, he’d turned her down.
He was reaching for his T-shirt when a voice trailed from the other end of the hallway. He jerked, bumped his elbow on the towel rack and gritted back a growl.
The voice was Sarah’s. He couldn’t keep a smile from his face. She was here.
Then Emma’s voice fell plaintively on his ears, not quite clear enough to make out the words. The voices grew softer but more intense, which meant they were probably arguing and didn’t want anyone to hear. Which made him want to hear.
He took two seconds to comb his still-damp hair and cracked open the door. Time to calm the waters.
“...don’t listen to me. You never listen! I told you, Nick said I could stay. We can both stay. Edward said so, too.”
“And you thought you could accept the invitation for both of us without consulting me?”
“Come on, Sarah, they’re family friends, practically family.”
“You’ve been communicating with him online. Do you know how dangerous that could have been? What if it hadn’t been Nick?”
“But it was.”
“You didn’t know that for sure. What would stop someone from contacting you online and posing as Nick to lure you down here? How did you know you weren’t walking into a deadly trap?”
“But Nick said he wanted to talk to me...to us.”
“He had no idea you were coming here. What you did was beyond dangerous.”
The silence that followed her statement was telling. Nick waited for some exclamation of outrage from Emma, maybe a good, out-and-out catfight, but that wasn’t Sarah’s way except when it came to her twin, and judging by Emma’s behavior last night, she might be impulsive but not aggressive.
“That car parked outside isn’t yours,” Sarah said at last. “The title reverted to me upon Mom’s death, and I’m the one who calls the shots in our household now, whether we like it or not. That car goes back to Sikeston today, and you’re driving it.”
More silence.
Nick could almost close his eyes and picture the twins, Shelby and Sarah Russell, arguing in the school hallway, or on their front porch or just about anywhere. Typically it was Shelby who instigated the fight in an effort to force Sarah to do something she didn’t want to do, such as join the cheerleading squad or go on a youth camping trip or sign up for summer sports. Sarah knew how to dig in and not be moved.
“I can’t believe you would force me back home before I even have a chance to meet folks Mom and Dad used to know. How could you?”
It was time for Nick to make an appearance and stop eavesdropping. As the two continued to argue, he stepped down the hallway barefoot. He saw them before they knew he was there, saw Sarah’s shiny, dark brown hair feathered around her face, those gray-green eyes that he used to look for in the school hallways. His friend. And when he wasn’t being an idiot about her twin sister for those brief couple of weeks, he’d occasionally admitted to himself, even that long ago, that Sarah was the one with a special quality that put him at peace.
His breathing stopped for a second or two. Sarah’s looks had changed dramatically, of course. Gone was the Goth look she’d worn to distinguish herself from her more popular sister. He still remembered the light of intelligence that had set off Sarah’s gaze from Shelby’s. Same coloring, different person looking out on the world, and that made all the difference.
“Sweetie, I’m not trying to be mean,” Sarah said.
“If we go home we might never come back. I want to meet these people and get to know them.” Emma marched across the living room to the sliding glass door that overlooked the backyard. Her warm brown eyes, that dark hair, the way she moved... Her appearance filled him with such curiosity. No
