Page 33 of Little Buried Secrets

She wasn’t thinking about my daughter, Fallon.

“There’s no need to apologize,” I said.

She grabbed a tissue from a box on the coffee table and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other as she blotted her eyes. “Do you know what happened to Margot? Do you know how she died?”

“I don’t, not yet. I’m good friends with Silas, the county coroner. He’ll get in touch with me once he’s had the chance to do a thorough examination. As soon as I know something, you will too. You have my word.”

“How long will it take? Any idea?”

“Silas is tireless on cases like this one. He’ll work into the night if it means getting us the answers we need sooner.”

As more tears began to fall, Rae reached for a few more tissues. “I just want to be by her side, you know? Even if she’s no longer here, with us, she needs her mother.”

I squeezed my hands together, swallowing back tears of my own.

Now was not the time for me to fall apart.

Rae needed me—she needed me to be strong.

“Who else knows about Margot?” she asked.

“As far as I’m aware, we’ve managed to keep it quiet so far. Chief Foley doesn’t want it to be talked about until he’s able to inform the community. I assume that will take place tomorrow.”

“Are you asking me not to speak of it until then?”

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, and I won’t,” I said. “I’m just passing along his wishes. And they have merit.”

The front door opened, and Bronte sprinted toward her mother. Sebastian trailed behind, his hands shoved in his pockets, eyes darting around, focusing on anything other than the two of us.

“They found Margot’s shoe, Mom!” Bronte said. “Can you believe it?”

It wasn’t until Bronte had blurted it out that she noticed me sitting there.

She wagged a finger at me.

“You. What are you doing here? I thought you were out with the others, searching for my sister.” Bronte turned toward Sebastian. “That is what you said, isn’t it?”

“You should sit down, honey,” Rae said.

“I don’t want to sit down. I want to know what the detective is doing here.”

Rae looked past her daughter and said, “Now is not a good time, Sebastian. You should go home.”

Sebastian looked at Rae and then at me.

“You’re here because you found her,” he said. “You found her, didn’t you?”

I held my gaze on Sebastian but said nothing.

A wide-eyed Bronte said, “Is he right, Mom? Have they found her?”

“Bronte, I think it would be best if you—”

“Don’t do this, Mom!” Bronte said. “Don’t drag it out! Just tell me the truth.”

It was clear Sebastian wasn’t leaving without an answer, and Bronte wasn’t about to let up, either, until she heard the truth.

Grant dashed down the stairs, his eyes laser-focused on Bronte, and he said, “Don’t you ever speak to your mother like that.”

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