Page 61 of Confessions of the Dead

Mason groaned and frowned at Evelyn. “I told you she was chickenshit.”

Evelyn ignored him. “We think we figured out where that thing in your sink came from.”

“Ifigured out where the thing in your sink came from,” Robby corrected her.

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She took a step closer. “Climb out and jump. You can come back after. It’s not that far. Your mom will never know you left.”

Matt’s office was on the ground floor, only a few feet up. Riley looked back over her shoulder.

“Do you need to ask Mommy for everything?”

Mason again.

He was right: she was being stupid. Robby was younger thanher, and he was out there. On any normal day, her mom wouldn’t have a problem with her hanging out with friends.

Are they your friends, though?

Not the girl’s voice that time—that one was all Riley herself—and she didn’t know the answer. Not really.

“Thirty minutes, tops,” Evelyn said. “It’s right down the street.”

Riley almost turned around again and caught herself. Evelyn was right; her mom probably wouldn’t even notice she was gone, and text messages were working, so if she did notice, she could just send her a message and she could come right back.Ifshe even noticed she was gone.

Before she could change her mind, Riley shed the quilt, sat on the edge of the windowsill, and dropped to the ground. The sun felt good on her skin, as if she’d just stepped out of a freezer.

“There might be hope for you yet,” Mason told her when she reached them.

Evelyn frowned. “What’s that?”

Riley didn’t know what she was talking about. “What’s what?”

Evelyn grabbed her arm and pointed. “That.”

Written on Riley’s arm in what looked like blue ballpoint was a name:

Mason Ridler

She didn’t remember writing it there.

46

Matt

MATT JUMPED THE CURBparking his cruiser and didn’t much care. His hand slipped off the gearshift three times before he managed to get it in park, and he scraped his knuckles on the steering column when he went to retrieve the keys.

Every inch of his body trembled and wouldn’t stop.

He’d never been shot at before.

Hollows Bend just wasn’t that kind of place.

He had friends in other jurisdictions where gunfire was an everyday part of the job, particularly in some of the more rural portions of New Hampshire where the opioid crisis was running rampant, but not here, not in the Bend.

The Bend was different.

Matt gripped both sides of the wheel and drew in a deep breath through his nose, held it for a moment, then let it out from his mouth.

Get it together, he told himself.You need to get it together.

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