“That’s ridiculous,” Liz spat.
Nora raised one shoulder as if she didn’t have the energy to fire back. She looked so weary. There were purple smudges beneath her eyes and her skin was pale and waxy in spite of the warm summer sun. When she was a teenager, late August meant arms the color of toasted almonds, hair bleached so blond it was almost white. Of course Nora had always pretended not to care about her looks, but Liz knew that her daughter often felt awkward, self-conscious. Quinn was the beauty of the family and JJ was the brains—where did Nora fit? It was a question she had spent many years trying, and failing, to answer. The thought made Liz unaccountably sad, because, of course, Nora was the whole package: whip-smart and lovely, bighearted and wise. Why hadn’t Liz ever told her so? Or had she? She couldn’t quite remember, and in some ways that was even worse.
They didn’t say anything more as they waited for Bennet to arrive. It had been almost two hours since Tiffany’s cryptic text messages, and Liz marveled at how the whole world could unravel in such an insignificant amount of time. What now? she thought. But the future was determinedly opaque.
When he came, Bennet pulled a chair up to their circle and sat on the very edge of it so that he could rest his elbows on his knees and lean close. The set of his mouth was serious and he clutched a small black backpack in his hands as if it contained something precious. Liz wanted to shake him, to rip the bag from his hands so she could upend it on the floor and see what was inside. But she crossed her arms over her chest and forced herself to remain still, silent.
“Donovan Richter is dead,” Bennet said without preamble. “There was a car accident about a mile down the road from where we found Everlee Barnes in the ditch.”
Liz stole a glance at Nora. Her daughter’s face was smooth as a statue and just as emotive. This was not the news she was waiting for, and she didn’t so much as flinch when Bennet hung his head for a moment. The entire room seemed to hold in a frightened breath.
“Tiffany is gone,” he told them, looking up. His gaze was a sword, and Liz watched as it pierced right through Nora’s defenses. She crumpled.
“What?” she whispered, her lips trembling.
“No one else was in the car.”
“What?” Nora’s hand snaked out and seized Bennet’s wrist. “What does that mean? Is she okay?”
“We don’t know. If she was in the car, and if she was critically injured, she couldn’t have gotten far.”
“I don’t understand.” Quinn looked between them all, searching for the answer. “Where is she?”
Bennet avoided her gaze as he answered: “It has not yet been determined that a second passenger was in the vehicle at the time of the accident.”
“But—”
“She’s not there,” Bennet said. “Tiffany was not in the car when we found it. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“She’s gone.” The words were so absolute, so final, that Nora should have sounded devastated. But Liz could see that though her daughter looked stunned, her mouth was curving in a faint, improbable smile. “She survived, and she’s gone . . .” Nora trailed off, shooting Bennet a quick, nervous glance.
“Look,” he said carefully. “I don’t know what happened this afternoon. But it looks like there was a rollover on a gravel road with a single fatality. If there was another passenger, we don’t know why she would have run.”
“Do you think . . . ?”
“We have no reason to suspect foul play.”
Nora gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Now if there was a witness, someone who was in the car at the time of the accident, that person is definitely someone we would like to have a chat with.”
“Will you issue a warrant?”
Bennet pushed a hand through his hair as he gave her words consideration. He finally said, “If there was a passenger—and that’s still an if at this point—this is a bit unprecedented. We usually deal with the other end of the spectrum. People want to sue for damages, not flee the scene.”
“So what now?” Liz didn’t even realize she had spoken aloud until they all turned toward her.
“The sheriff’s department is processing the scene, but it looks pretty straightforward. If the investigation determines that the driver lost control and rolled, there are no charges to file.”
“And Tiffany?”
“I don’t know, Nora. You tell me.”
“Are you suggesting that I had something to do with this?”
“I never said that.” Bennet shook his head. “But I do have some questions for you.”
“I have nothing to hide.”
“Okay.” Bennet unzipped the backpack and pulled out an evidence bag. Inside the clear plastic was what appeared to be a scrap of fabric. It was bright and beautiful, a pattern of flowers and splotches of color that looked like great dollops of fresh paint. He held it up in front of Nora. “We found this on the ground near the vehicle.”
Liz recognized it instantly. It was the scarf that Tiffany had been wearing when she showed up at the cabin door and took Everlee. Liz opened her mouth to say as much but then clamped it down so hard her jaw ached. She didn’t dare to sneak a peek at Quinn but was grateful that her daughter chose to hold her tongue, too.
“I’ve never seen that before in my life,” Nora admitted, and Liz had no doubt that she was telling the truth. Nora had never been a very good liar.
“You’re sure.”
Nora nodded, and Bennet stuffed the evidence bag into the pack. He took out another one. “What about this?”
It was a cell phone with a gaudy pink case that was adorned with sequins in the shape of a skull.
“That’s Tiffany’s phone,” Nora said reluctantly.
Bennet nodded. “There’s an unsent text message on it.” He pushed the home button through the plastic bag and then turned the phone so that everyone could see it. “Do you have any idea what this means?”
Liz squinted as she drew close, trying to make sense of the words that glowed on the screen. And then they came into garish, shocking focus.
You should know: JJ is the wrong Jack.
HE FOUND ME. Or, rather, I found him.
When did I realize that this would never be over? That he would chase us and fight for us and never let us go? And not in a good way. Not in the “where you go, I’ll go” way of those sappy romance novels Lorelei used to love.
The will was my insurance policy. Really, I just wanted my aunt to meet her great-niece. No, her granddaughter. Just once. And if we survived this thing, if we made it out the other side safe and sound, yes, I believed that my girl deserved her inheritance. When she came of age, of course. Lord knows I would have been a walking disaster with a fortune at sixteen. Fine. I still would be. But it was a template last will and testament, easy to change. Mr. Estes was happy to help.
I direct that my residuary estate be distributed to my niece, Tiffany Barnes. And below that we added: And great-niece, Everlee Barnes.